by Eva Devon
"Surely not. I'm a duke. You don't wish to make me nervous.” He swirled the brandy around his snifter, bluffing, “I could rescind your allowance."
"You would never do such a thing," she dismissed, waving her bejeweled free hand. "Besides, I have money of my own, as you well know."
She took a long drink of brandy. "Augusta was a very good decision."
"Augusta fell on me, quite literally," he pointed out.
"True, and what a spot of luck that was. But it wasn't just luck. You could have absolutely ruined her. But you decided on her.”
"Do you not know me at all, Aunt? Ruining her was not a choice.”
Her mouth pressed into a tight line, clearly in disagreement before she continued, "I know you very well, dear boy, and that is why I'm finally so happy to see you embracing some sort of happiness." "Happiness?" he scoffed. "I've been happy for years. No man has been as happy as I."
"No," she said. "You've drowned yourself in pleasure. There is a great deal of difference in the two things, and I'm glad to finally see you happy."
Happy? She thought him happy.
That gave him pause.
He cleared his throat. “I don't follow."
"Yes, you do,” she countered, leveling him with a knowing stare.
Damnation. Surely, even Napoleon would quake under that formidable stare.
“I remember when you were a boy,” she said, a memory softening her face. “You were one of the happiest lads I knew. . . Except when you had to be about your father. You were always grinning and making merry and causing others to laugh. My brother was such poison. He ruined almost everyone's life he touched, including mine. Deuce take it, marrying me off to an old lecher? I'm lucky that he died early and left me a sizable widow’s portion."
They’d always been blunt with each other, but there were certain topics they had avoided. His father and her marriage had been two. ”Aunt Honoria, it is remarkable to hear you say such a thing."
“What?” she countered. “The truth? I'm a great believer in the truth, my boy, as you should know."
A silence fell between them until at last he gritted, "I hate speaking of him."
"Yes, I understand.” She took another deep swallow of the amber liquid. “I think he wished your forgiveness when he died, but I'm glad that you didn't feel that you had to give it to him."
His hand tightened around his snifter so firmly he half expected it to crack. “What he did was reprehensible."
"I agree. He stole your happiness from you then, but he's not here to do it again."
Adam leaned back against his carved wood back chair. "I don't follow.”
"Yes, you do," she countered with no patience. "Please allow yourself to be happy, dear boy. I see you spending so many hours away from Augusta when, really, I think you wish to spend as much time as possible with her. Why don't you allow yourself to?"
Adam ground his teeth together. "You know why.”
Honoria’s brows drew together, perplexed. “Yes, but do you think that she would like it? Do you think Anna would wish you to be unhappy?"
He could not breathe. He could not move. Her name had not been spoken aloud in years. “Anna is not to be mentioned."
His aunt sighed. "I thought you might insist upon that, but if you keep that line up, you will be a most miserable soul," she said. "You will not be able to continue as you are, dear boy. Such things always come to a head. Pain buried so deeply as yours will rupture."
Curling his hands into fists on his desk, he dug his nails into his palms, determined to remain in control. “You make it sound like a wound.”
"It is," she replied bluntly. "And if you're not careful, it will open again and you will perish from it."
"I'm not going to die from a memory,” he drawled, half eyeing the door, wondering how the devil he could get her through it.
“No,” she sat a little straighter, if such a thing were possible. “But your future could."
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re being terribly dramatic."
"I am not," she insisted, smoothing her hands over her silk skirts. "I'm telling the truth once again. Lady Augusta, your wife, is a wonderful treasure of a girl who only needs to be allowed a little bit more out of her shell to become fully her own and be the perfect match for you. She's doing it herself day-by-day after finally getting out from under the foot of her father. You on the other hand. . . You are retracting into your shell, despite the fact you clearly care for the gel."
Somehow, he managed to move his lips into a dry smile. “You make me sound like a crustacean."
"That's exactly what you are," she announced as she pursed her lips in irritation and apparent dismay. “You have a hard shell on the outside, my dear, and I'm worried for you."
"I'm a man of the world, Aunt Honoria,” he said softly. “I know how to handle myself."
"I didn't say you weren't a man of the world.” She arched a dark brow. “I understand that very well. But I am worried about the way you protect your heart. Walls, my dear, are dangerous things."
"Thank you for your concern, Aunt," he bit out before downing the rest of his brandy in one go. "But in this, you've overstepped."
She nodded, resigned. "If you say so, my dear, if you say so. I shan't press. But I did wish to say it.”
Honoria hesitated before she leaned forward, her gown rustling. “Please embrace this happiness. Allow yourself to move on from the past."
"You make it sound so easy," he growled. "To move on from the past that was taken from me."
Her face softened with her sympathy. “It was taken. Don't take this now from yourself."
Adam tore his gaze from her kind, honest face and turned to the fire. "I understand," he said.
"I don't think you do," she whispered back before she shrugged. "But we shall see. Enjoy what you have, my darling boy, enjoy it well." And with that she swallowed the rest of her brandy, stood, and placed her glass on the silver tray beside the fire.
She gave him one last look. A kind, loving look. A look that made his insides ache, and she strode from his study.
Happiness.
What the devil was that?
It was true that he enjoyed spending time with Augusta, and she had awakened a part of him that he had long thought dead, but that was all.
That was all he could allow.
Anything else would be such a total betrayal of Anna and their child, and the vow he kept. No, the only thing that kept her memory alive was his promise and he was not going to fail.
He was not going to fail on that.
So, he looked back to his speech, took it in his hand, and crumpled it.
He would have to be far more careful now with how he allowed Augusta into his life. For he could not allow her into his heart.
Chapter 26
Augusta pored over the accounts and ledgers of the estates of the Duke of Blacktower again and again.
They were a marvel to her.
There were so many things to take into consideration.
There were the servants, the house, the roof, the upkeep of the outbuildings, the daily purchase and preparation of food, the taking away of food not consumed.
There were the gardens, the gardeners, the lands, the tenants, the livestock. . . All of it was a vast network of working parts that, if one went out of sync, the entire thing could falter.
It had taken her days to get all of it sorted but now she had, and she was absolutely ablaze with excitement. She had so many ideas about the improvement of it.
The gentleman who had been overseeing the estates had done a very good job, but it was clear that his ideas were rather antiquated, and that he was not particularly good at sums. He was good enough, but she had a distinct feeling that she would be able to find several places where sums had been miscalculated.
As a matter of fact, she felt that she had located several thousand pounds, and she could not wait to show it to Blacktower so that he might be able to make use of that money and imp
rove the lives of his tenants.
And she had an idea to do so, for one of the things that she had noticed was that the young girls of the farms so often went straight into either housework or marriage.
Augusta had a different idea. Surely, the girls too could go to a school like the boys? For so many of the boys, even though they were farmers and went to work in the fields or in trades almost immediately, were at least allowed to learn to read.
It would be a wonderful thing if the girls could have the same opportunity too, and she couldn't wait to suggest the idea of schools upon his estates for young girls.
And she was going to be their patron! That way she could ensure the quality of it and convince the fathers of the benefits of girls with a basic education. She knew it would be no easy thing. But a bit of hard work had never stopped her before. It wouldn’t now in such a vital cause.
Excited by her discovery and determined to put her plans to use, she gathered up her materials and a few of the account ledgers. She hurried out of the cozy room that she had claimed as her own. She could not quite grow accustomed to one of the larger studies that were open to her.
Some of the rooms were larger than the entire downstairs of her childhood home!
No, the small parlor off of the library was perfect for her tastes. She bustled to her husband's large study. She knocked perfunctorily on the door, then entered, chin lifted, shoulders squared.
Her husband sat at his massive desk staring forward, a brandy snifter cradled in his hand. He seemed absolutely lost in the encroaching night.
He sat alone, silent.
The red glow illuminated his beautiful features and only the sound of the crackling flames filled the space.
She hesitated then, her enthusiasm dying a bit.
There was a melancholy air to him that she'd never seen before. "Adam?" she asked.
“Speak," he barked.
His bluntness stopped her, but she was not prepared to retreat. Perhaps her news would hearten him. “I would like to discuss something with you, but if you prefer I can—”
He shook his head slightly, blinking, and then he lifted his head towards her. "What do you require?”
She smiled at him, stunned by this dark side to him. “I don't require anything at this moment, but I have something that I'd like to discuss with you."
She'd never seen him so gruff, so. . . Dismayed.
In all the time that she'd known him, he'd always had a jolly, playful attitude about him. Now, he looked as if he was some sort of gargoyle perching on a castle wall, prepared to devour whoever came near him.
"Tell me,” he said. "It's obviously important to you, and I don't wish you to feel as if you must wait for my help."
"I can wait until you're feeling more yourself,” she ventured.
"There's nothing wrong with me," he cut in, swinging a hard stare to her. "Go ahead."
She sucked in a breath. His usually warm eyes were two hard stones. “Something has certainly upset you."
“Augusta,” he said tightly, a muscle tightening in his jaw. “I don't wish to speak of it."
"If you don't wish to speak of it, I shan’t try to make you,” she assured. Her heart hummed with nerves as she dared to suggest, “But I can listen, you know."
"I'm sure that you're very capable of listening and I'm sure that you would offer me very good advice.” He eyed his brandy snifter but did not drink. “However, I don't wish for either of those things at present."
"You wish to be alone,” she stated and yet she could not bring herself to turn and leave him. There was something so wounded about him that she longed to cross to him and comfort him. Yet, it was clear he did not wish that. And she did not quite know how to close the breach between them.
"I do wish to be alone," he sighed, but then his brow furrowed. “And yet I'm afraid to be alone too."
She took a step forward. “I can—”
"No, Augusta,” he cut in harshly before he drew in a long breath. “Not tonight.”
He wiped a hand over his face, as if the world had made him oh so very weary. “Forgive me, perhaps some other time, I'll confide in you. But not today. I haven't the capability of it."
She believed him. Something had overtaken him that was so powerful and so raw that she wished she could take him in her arms and assure him that whatever it was would not hold him in its grip for long.
The grief, the agony, whatever it was, it filled up his eyes and it seemed to weigh his proud shoulders down.
He leaned forward and gave a nod of his hand. “What have you come to tell me?”
She clutched her ledgers, suddenly feely off foot. “I have made some discoveries about the estate in your accounts."
"Someone cheating me, eh?" He quirked a brow, clearly tired. It was a comment so unlike any that he had ever made she almost gasped.
"No, not at all,” she rushed. "As a matter of fact, I think I found money in your accounts."
"Found?" he echoed. "Ah, the gilded duke has even more gold."
"You truly are upset,” she blurted.
"What is there not to be upset about in this life, Augusta?” he bit out. “It's a cruel, cruel life."
She blinked. Where was the jovial rake? The pleasure-loving man who’d been forced to marry a spinster? “You never seemed to think so before."
He laughed then, a deep, dark laugh. "Augusta, I am good at many things and two of those are making other people happy and appearing so myself."
She studied him and, in that moment, she knew that all the assumptions she’d made, everything she believed to be true about him, was false. Utterly false. He was no idle rake. No pleasure-bound fool. He was a man who was doing everything he could to hide the darkness in his heart. “I think that might be the truest thing you've ever told me."
"Please don't press this further.” The tired note in his voice filled the study. “But I am happy to hear more about these founds funds. It is apparent you have a plan.”
She smiled at that. How could she not? “I do have a plan,” she agreed. “I should like to open several schools."
“Schools?” His brows rose. “Here in town?"
She licked her lips. “No, on your estates."
He shook his dark head. “Augusta, I pride myself on the schools on my estates.”
"And you should,” she confirmed. "But they are all for boys."
He stared at her for a long while before realization dawned upon his handsome face.
“Ah," he breathed. "How remiss of me."
And he did not sound gruff about it at all. It was a genuine realization and then interest sparked in his gaze. "And you wish to remedy this?"
"I think it'd be very good for the girls upon your lands and society as a whole."
“I think it is wonderful idea, but many of their fathers will object,” he warned.
“Yes," she ventured, having already considered this. She swallowed then rushed, “But perhaps if you and I were to endorse such an idea, many of them would come around. I could go and visit the families and encourage them to send their daughters to this school. Or you could come with me."
"You wish me to go and visit all of my tenants and tell them to send their daughters to school?" he queried.
She hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek, unable to tell if he found her proposition favorable.
Then some unknowable emotion crossed his features and he said softly, "Yes, Augusta, of course I'll do it. I think it's a noble idea. Girls deserve as much help as they can to get on in this world. God knows that men make their lives hard enough."
She swallowed, trying to understand the bitter sorrow that had overtaken her usually jovial, witty husband.
Suddenly it struck her that one needed to be very careful in wishing for things. For she had often wished that he would be serious. Even before she knew him, when she'd read the news sheets, she’d wished it. She’d been outraged that he hadn’t taken his advantages seriously.
But now that she s
pied the darkness in him, a more serious side of him, she wished it to be gone immediately. How she wished to see his happy, jolly self who lifted the spirits of all those around him.
This? This was more than seriousness and it was a side of him she'd never thought existed. More fool she. "I should like to go down to the country, to your estates, this week. Will you take me?"
"You desire me to take you to the country this week?" he demanded, his voice blunt.
There was a hard edge to his words, as if he found the idea appalling.
“I think it'd be a wonderful opportunity for me to get to know your estates and your tenants. If you came, you could introduce me properly."
The idea looked as if it might be as terrible to him as having several teeth extracted without the aid of wine.
“I’ll escort you,” he said with a curt nod. “But I shan't stay long. I'll leave you there and you can get accustomed to the place and create a way in which to put your ideas into practice."
"You're going to leave me there?" she repeated, feeling as if she’d been knocked a hard blow to her stomach.
He stared at her, his gaze unreadable. “You'll do a splendid job and I have much work to do here. I don't really care for the estates."
"I see," she managed to say, stunned by the turn her plan had taken. She’d never meant to separate herself from him with her discovery and idea.
He shrugged as though she meant little to him. "It's nothing against you, Augusta. If you don't like it there, you may come back to London immediately."
She fought the tightening of her throat. "I understand."
“Good,” he said before thunking his snifter down on his desk.
And with that, she slipped from the room, ledgers held tightly to her chest as if they could shield her heart from the strange coldness that had just washed over her.
She headed down the hall, wondering what the devil had happened in just a few hours’ time.
Where had the smiling, kind husband gone, replaced by that gargoyle grief-stricken man? She wondered what secret was in his heart that she did not know.
That most people did not know, she'd wager.
What had caused him to suddenly seethe with such pain?
There were only a few people who might know, and perhaps she should try to find out. She had a very strong feeling that the rest of her future depended on it.
