A Lady to Remember

by Samantha Grace

  He smiled. “It was a gift from my betrothed.”

  She caught her bottom lip between her pearly white teeth, watching him as if contemplating whether to speak.

  Irritation crawled up his skin. “If you have no trust for me, Adele, any future we have—”

  “Do you still love me?” she blurted.

  His frustration fled; her uncertainty humbled him. During his self-righteous condemnation of her for withholding her thoughts and feelings, he had not been forthcoming with her. He cleared his suddenly thick throat.

  “Loving you is beyond my control.”

  She frowned and gripped the handkerchief in her lap, crumpling it. “But you would choose to walk away from this—from us—if it were possible.”

  He reached for her hand, imploring her to understand how integral she was to his happiness. “I am walking toward you.”

  “In a fugue state,” she grumbled.

  He laughed. “I assure you I am fully awake and alert.” Every damn inch of him was vibrating with awareness of her. “Should I lower to bended knee to declare my devotion or would a kiss serve as proof?”

  Her lips thinned. “Would you taunt me with reminders of your proposal?”

  He had spoken similar words when he had asked for her hand in marriage, and opted to do both—propose on bended knee then kiss her tenderly.

  He leaned toward her so they were eye to eye. “I would remind you, Lady Adele, that you are promised to me, and I to you.”

  Annoyance flickered across her face. “You are the one in need of a reminder. Yesterday you denied any agreement existed.”

  The color was high in her cheeks, her eyes sparked with ire, and she was the most beautiful creature to grace the earth.

  “Yesterday, I was an ass who allowed pride to best him.”

  A reluctant smile caused her lips to twitch. “And today?”

  “Today”—he circled her waist and pulled her close, leaning his forehead against hers—“I am ready to embrace defeat and admit I love you.”

  “How flattering,” she said flatly, but her smile spread. “What is my prize for victory?”

  His heart beat wildly, his body tensing. “Will you have me for your husband?”

  “An acceptable reward,” she murmured, “if you include a kiss.”

  Relief rolled over him, and he granted her request with eagerness. Her mouth fit with his as if they had never been separated. Yet, the sensation was novel and exciting. In the darkness of his cell, he had tried to recall the luxurious plumpness of her lips moving with his, the salty sweetness of her kisses, her subtly floral scent wrapping around him. Imagination was a poor substitute for this woman who had captured him so completely.

  She pressed her body against his, her breasts cushioning his chest. He groaned deep in his throat and cupped her bottom to haul her onto his lap. She answered with an erotic little whimper that tested his control. Distant voices penetrated his hazy bliss, jarring and unwelcome. He reluctantly broke their kiss with a low growl. Adele’s dark lashes fluttered, and her eyebrows dipped in confusion.

  “Rehearsal is finished,” he explained.

  “Oh!” She leapt from his lap as if he were a bed of hot coals.

  He pushed from the couch to capture her elbow before she decided to dash into the corridor in her flushed state. “I will intercept and keep everyone occupied. Perhaps you would like a moment to yourself?”

  She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

  He kissed her forehead and bade her to take as long as she liked before he stepped into the corridor. Lars and Tilde greeted him as they passed, but if they found it odd for him to be loitering in the corridor, they hid their curiosity. Natalia, however, did not.

  “Your secret is safe,” she said with a wink. “Lord Leo is too busy making calf-eyes at Jane and Anastasia to notice his sister has gone missing.”

  “And the others?”

  “Russell and Claudine accompanied Oliver to his office to discuss the winter show, and Benny escorted Rachel to the shops.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Now, don’t you go getting yourself into trouble, sir.”

  He grinned. “I am already in trouble, and it feels fantastic.”

  The lead actress’s dressing room door drifted open, and Adele peeked through the crack. He waved for her to come out. A furious blush invaded her cheeks when she spotted Natalia, but she exited the room to stand beside him.

  “Well, Miss Ivanov,” he said to the actress, taking Adele’s hand, “it appears you will be the first to hear the announcement.”

  Natalia looked back and forth between them, her smile growing. “Have you decided you are betrothed after all?”

  He attempted a stern glower, although he was too pleased with his circumstances to be successful. “Were you eavesdropping again?”

  “I was right!” Natalia released a high-pitched squeal and threw her arms around him and Adele. Adele stiffened beside him, likely in shock of such a display of impropriety, but when Natalia released them, Adele laughed.

  Lars stuck his head into the corridor. “What are you caterwauling about now, woman?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  The actress ignored his grumpiness and beamed in his direction. “Lady Adele and Mr. Fletcher are to be married.”

  “Ach, nee!” Tilde shoved past her husband, speaking rapidly in German and smiling like a loon. Adele accepted her friend’s hug and turned to embrace Lars when he came up to offer congratulations to Marcus.

  The women were still chattering when Russell and Claudine arrived backstage. Natalia blurted the news when they were still at the end of the corridor. Russell met Marcus’s gaze, his brow lifting. Marcus intercepted them. Claudine congratulated him then joined her fellow players and Adele.

  “You think it is sudden,” Marcus said, anticipating his friend’s disapproval.

  Russell shook his head, chuckling. “You have been in love with her nearly a year. If anything, I say it is about time you surrendered to the parson’s noose.”

  “Admit it,” he shot back. “You don’t want to be the only one getting leg-shackled.”

  When Marcus had confided in his friend after Adele’s visit to the theatre, Russell had announced his and Claudine’s intentions to marry. It wouldn’t be an easy road for the couple with Russell’s mother taking a dislike to the actress, but perhaps Mrs. Hawke would come to see what was obvious to everyone: Russell and Claudine were perfectly matched.

  “I am pleased I will no longer be responsible for keeping you out of trouble.” Russell waggled his eyebrows comically. “Allows me more time with my bride.”

  “You were never any good at being my keeper anyway.”

  “I am surprised Lady Adele agreed to your ultimatum,” Russell said. “From what you have told me, she and her brother share a close bond. I should offer her my best wishes.”

  Guilt twisted Marcus’s gut like a rag being wrung dry as his friend went to Adele to show his support. An ultimatum? The term made him sound like a tyrant. His position on Adele’s worthless brother had not been taken to hurt her. Marcus and Harry Sinclair at the same dinner table would be a disaster. Banning her brother from their lives was necessary if his future wife was to be spared further distress. He hadn’t issued an ultimatum.

  Liar, a tenacious voice whispered at the back of his mind. You want her to choose you this time.

  “To the devil with you,” he mumbled to the bloody chap in his head. If anyone was a liar, it was he. Shaking off his guilt, Marcus joined Adele and their new friends for a toast to their happiness.

  Nine

  Adele was the most wretched of sisters. Despite her determination to reach an acceptable agreement with Marcus about her brother before consenting to marriage, she had leapt at the opportunity to become his wife. The strength and security of his embrace, whispered promises to always be at her side... They were her siren songs, feeding an aching hunger that couldn’t be satisfied by anyone else. The lonely girl who had grown up with no family or lo
ve to call her own clung to his assurances.

  She was wretched and weak.

  “Blech!” She made a face at her reflection in the looking glass.

  Masculine laughter startled her. Wide-eyed, she met her brother Leo’s gaze in the mirror. Crinkles had formed around his cobalt blue eyes. “Did your fairy godmother say something you did not like?”

  She swiveled on the tufted stool placed in front of her dressing table.“I beg your pardon?”

  He was early for their excursion, although his eagerness came as no surprise. Her brother seemed to be developing quite a liking for the theatre. More precisely, he enjoyed the pretty actresses. No longer was he content to have Jane and Anastasia hanging on his every word. Two days ago, he had set his sites on Natalia.

  Leo pointed to her looking glass. “You were talking to it. Is that not where fairy-godmothers live?”

  “I believe you are confusing fictional characters. Magic mirrors and fairy-godmothers are completely different.”

  He cocked his head. “How so?”

  “Well, one is a meddlesome seamstress, and the other is a presumptuous instigator who likes to spy on ladies when they are primping, much like my youngest brother.”

  “Bah,” Leo said with a wave of his hand and teasing smile. “I’ve never sewn a stitch in my life.”

  He came up behind her and tried to ruffle her hair, but she smacked his hand before he messed up her lady’s maid’s handiwork.

  “Don’t you know it is rude to interrupt a lady in her chambers?”

  “Your door was ajar.” He plopped onto her favorite chair. “Since I was here, I thought you might want to leave early for the theatre.”

  Adele peered at him with raised eyebrows. “It would be in your best interest to avoid Natalia before she sinks her claws into you. She is searching for a benefactor, and you would spend your entire allowance to keep her. Besides, you are too young for her.”

  Leo tossed his head back, laughing. “You only warn me off because you are jealous of her friendship with your fiancé.”

  “Natalia is the least of my concerns,” she mumbled. Initially, the beautiful actress had troubled her, but Natalia was respectful and kind to Adele. It helped that Marcus only had eyes for Adele when they met at the theatre.

  Leo inspected the palm of his glove, attempting to appear nonchalant. “Have you told Harry about your betrothal?”

  “Not yet.”

  She had intended to speak with him at dinner last night, but he had complained of stomach cramps again and retired to bed early.

  “It has been a week,” Leo said. “You will tell our brother before the wedding, I hope.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “There is plenty of time left. We have not yet applied for a marriage license. Marcus wishes to discuss arrangements with his father tomorrow evening, although he would not reveal the specifics. I will tell Harry when the time is right.”

  “And when might that be?”

  “When the time is right.” Leo really was a pest sometimes, but she would never regret having him in her life. “The Queen’s trial is taking a toll on Harry, and I do not wish to add to his burden.”

  “I wish I could say the same for Mother. She has been hassling me all week to fetch Dr. Furlong to examine Harry.”

  “He would only turn him away. It is best not to waste your time.” Adele had been encouraging Harry to call for a doctor since he fell ill, but he was as stubborn as a goat.

  “I told Mother he would refuse,” Leo said, “but she insisted. She is with Harry and Dr. Furlong now. Perhaps if she harasses our brother long enough, he will comply just to get rid of her.”

  “Your mother is here?” Adele bolted from the stool. Leo was free to wander the house at will, but neither she nor Harry wanted Millicent nosing about.

  “Where are they?” She was already headed for the door.

  “The formal drawing room.” He stood to follow her. “Does this mean you don’t want to leave early for the theatre?”

  “Gads, Leo. You are too single-minded sometimes.”

  Below stairs, she caught Cassia, the maid she had reassigned to the kitchens, and a chambermaid listening outside the drawing room door.

  Adele clapped her hands and they jumped. “If the duke knew you were spying on him, he would turn you out without a reference.”

  “Would serve them right,” Leo said as he caught up. “Run along, both of you, before I do it on his behalf.”

  The chambermaid dipped into a curtsey. “Yes, milord.” She dashed for the back of the house where the servants’ staircase was located.

  Cassia threaded her fingers together, her gaze downcast, and held her ground.

  “Did Mrs. Taylor give you leave to shirk your kitchen duties?” Adele asked.

  She shook her head; it sank lower. The girl looked like a pup being scolded for ruining a pair of slippers.

  “Might I suggest you return to the kitchen before she recommends sanctions?”

  Cassia’s chin inched even closer toward her chest. “Lady Adele, if I may...”

  Adele refrained from sighing. She held compassion for the girl. Unrequited love was a painful circumstance, but Cassia had to know her infatuation with Harry was futile. It would be cruel to allow her to hope otherwise.

  “Speak up,” Adele said.

  “Is His Grace ill? I heard a doctor has come to tend him.”

  “You are not to lend an ear to gossip nor repeat it, Cassia. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, milady. Forgive my impertinence.” The maid curtsied before scurrying away.

  When Adele and Leo slipped into the drawing room a moment later, Dr. Furlong was bent over, listening to Harry’s chest with a long funnel-shaped tube that vaguely resembled an ear trumpet. Leo strolled toward the sofa, seating himself out of the way.

  The doctor grabbed his lower back as he straightened, clicked his tongue, and tucked the tube into a large bag sitting on a side table. “Peculiar, indeed.”

  Adele’s stepmother waited beside Harry’s chair with her hand resting on the hand-carved chair rail. Presumably, her presence was required to oversee the exam. Adele tamped down the irritation welling in her chest and took a deep breath to bridle her emotions. Millicent wouldn’t be content until she was running Corbyn Place again, but she had managed to convince Harry to submit to an examination. She earned Adele’s gratitude, however grudgingly Adele gave it.

  Dr. Furlong stood there silently scratching his ear, disturbing the tuft of grey hair protruding from the canal.

  Millicent cleared her throat. “Dr. Furlong, what is it you have found?”

  He hummed to himself while gawking at Harry and clawing at his ear. Adele was beginning to worry he might have vermin given the vigor of his scratching, but he had no hair on his head to speak of. Her brother threw her a hassled look she took to mean, ‘I told you this would be pointless.’

  “Dr. Furlong?” Millicent clapped her hands, snapping the doctor from his trance. “You listened to the duke’s chest and said something was peculiar?”

  “Yes, the entire situation is puzzling.” Dr. Furlong addressed Harry. “Your Grace, you said you become unsteady when climbing the stairs?”

  “I feel lightheaded sometimes, like I could collapse.”

  Adele frowned. Harry hadn’t mentioned feeling faint. What else was he keeping from her?

  “Has this occurred at other times?” Dr. Furlong asked.

  Her brother’s lips compressed together, as if he was finished answering the doctor’s questions. “A few days ago,” he said tightly, “when I walked a distance, but it was only once.”

  He had been taking the carriage whenever he went out lately. Adele hadn’t given it much thought, although it should have been obvious something was amiss since he usually walked to his club.

  The doctor began tugging at his blasted ear again. “I detected nothing unusual with your chest, Your Grace. The heart beats strongly, and I hear no wheezing breaths. My exam reveals nothing out
of the ordinary, so I am inclined to declare you fit.”

  Nothing out of the ordinary? “He has stomach pains,” Adele interjected. The doctor swung around as if she had startled him. “I’ve heard him in his chambers losing his meal.”

  Dr. Furlong chuckled as if she told an anecdote. “I see. I believe we have found the answer. Too much ale and roast beef can interfere with digestion.”

  Adele huffed. “My brother is not a glutton. He barely eats or drinks anything now. He is ill.”

  The doctor’s face puckered. “I suppose you have been trained in medicine, young lady?”

  “No.”

  “I suggest you leave the diagnosing to the experts.”

  Adele bit her tongue when Harry narrowed his eyes and shook his head. If she were given free rein to speak her mind, she would tell the doctor his training seemed less than stellar, and his expertise was unimpressive.

  “Thank you, Dr. Furlong.” Millicent rounded the chair to take the doctor by his arm and escort him from the room. “We are relieved to hear our worries have been for naught. I will speak with the cook about serving less beef and ale.”

  Adele bristled over her audacity.

  When Millicent returned, she lit into Adele. “You behaved most unbecoming with Dr. Furlong, contradicting him. You should be grateful a man of his renowned reputation agreed to examine your brother.”

  “Surely, you place no faith in that man or his diagnosis.”

  “Dr. Furlong is an Oxford alumni and well-respected. Your brother deserves the best.”

  Adele gritted her teeth. Her stepmother hadn’t given a care for Harry’s well-being until her livelihood depended on him.

  “My brother deserves the very best,” she said, “and Dr. Furlong falls too short by half. I want another doctor to examine him.”

  “Dr. Furlong attends the most important men in London. Calling on another doctor would be insulting.”

  “The doctor’s feelings do not concern me. Harry is ill.”

  “Nothing a small change in the menu cannot remedy.” Millicent sighed, pulling a sympathetic face. “You’ve nothing to worry about, my dear. Let me help carry the burden. We will see Harry nursed back to health.”