Page 30 of The Pureblood Daughter
Adelina turns Octavia and squeezes her sides, and in a moment she’s galloping away from him, whatever he is. The sky opens up, and as rain starts to fall, she hears him faintly over the deluge.
“Adelina!”
Moments ago, hearing her name on his lips would’ve sent her into a frenzy, but now she can’t escape fast enough. All she can see are those white canines flashing in the light, so close to her throat, and she can’t even begin to understand.
The rain falls in sheets, obscuring her view as Octavia gallops down the rural path.
“I can’t see!” Adelina calls out to her horse. Her voice cracks, and soon she’s sobbing, tears mixing with the rainwater running into her eyes and dripping off her chin. “Take us home, Octavia.” She wraps her trembling fingers into Octavia’s creamy mane and leans forward over her neck. There’s little to do but cling to her horse and cry as the rain soaks her through.
The rhythmic pounding of Octavia’s hooves on the dirt gives Adelina something to focus on as she tries to forget the viscount’s mouth and the pleasure and terror it brought her. She breathes in and out with each of the mare’s strides, trying to calm the sobbing lest it steal the very breath from her lungs.
From out of the darkness materializes a faint warm light, and then the soft earth gives way to cobbles. Adelina sits up as Octavia slows her pace on the slick road. They pass houses lit up from within, and then they’re approaching the Gray house, moving through the archway into the stable block.
“Miss Gray?” calls a voice from the open doorway. A maid stands there, silhouetted by the candlelight behind her, cigarette smoke curling into the air. The maids aren’t supposed to smoke, but Adelina couldn’t care less.
Octavia stops, and Adelina slips from her back. Stone-cold and trembling fiercely, she stumbles and falls to the cobblestone.
“Miss Gray!” Dropping her cigarette, the maid rushes down the stairs and into the pouring rain. “Help!” she calls out over her shoulder.
A moment later, Simon appears in the doorway. He hurries down the stairs and into the storm and kneels beside Adelina and the maid.
“I’ve got you,” he says, lifting Adelina in his strong arms. She sniffles and curls against him as he carries her into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom, a gaggle of housemaids following closely behind. The butler sets her carefully on her bed, and Rose sweeps into the room a moment later, her presence silencing the whispering maids.
“Heat water for a bath,” Rose instructs one of the maids, and the woman promptly turns and leaves the room. “You, out,” she says to Simon, and he obliges her, though he leaves with worry in his eyes. The other maids linger in the doorway, their eyes wide and curious. Adelina turns over in bed so she can’t see their gazes on her. “Don’t just stand there,” Rose snaps. “Fetch the tub and the oils. Quickly!”
There’s a rustle of fabric, and then the bedroom door clicks closed. Silence follows, serving only to strengthen Adelina’s weeping. She tried to hold back while under observation, but now, alone with Rose, her tears flow fiercely.
The bed shifts slightly, and then Rose’s hand is on her shoulder.
“Come, miss. We must get you out of these wet clothes before you catch your death.” Her voice is delicate, encouraging.
Adelina takes a shuddering breath before sitting up in bed. Her riding habit and cloak are soaked through, and her hair sticks to her damp cheeks. Below her, the bedding is wet with rainwater.
She stands, her legs still trembling, and allows Rose to undress her. Layer by layer, the fabric is peeled away from her wet skin, and when she closes her eyes, Lord Rosetti’s hands are around her waist, hers against his chest. Then he’s leaning in, his teeth ready to devour her.
Gasping, Adelina opens her eyes, and Rose starts.
“Are you all right, miss?” she asks, reaching for the robe draped over Adelina’s dressing screen. She holds it open and helps Adelina slip her hands through the sleeves, then ties it loosely about her waist.
“I’m fine,” Adelina says. “Just cold.”
“We’ll get you in a warm bath, and then you can tell me why the butler had to carry you in from the storm.” Rose raises a brow just as a gentle knock sounds at the door. She goes to open it, and the maids enter with a large tub and buckets of water.
They fill the tub after several trips up and down the stairs, their youthful foreheads gleaming with perspiration, and then Adelina sheds her robe and steps into the water. It’s just warm enough to chase the cold from her bones, and she sighs into the water’s embrace as Rose carefully loosens her plait and begins combing her hair free of its many tangles.
“Well?” Rose asks. Her fingers work skillfully to pull apart the tiny knots, preventing the hair from breaking. “I thought you’d retired for the night. Imagine my surprise when I was roused from my reading to find you soaking wet and weeping in your bed.”
“I fancied an evening ride,” Adelina whispers.
“An evening ride?” Rose shifts the stool from behind the tub so she’s sitting beside it. She reaches for the vial of lavender oil the maids brought in and reaches for Adelina’s arm, then begins gently massaging the oil into her skin. The touch is soothing, and Adelina sighs as she sinks deeper into the basin.
“I didn’t intend to get caught in the storm. Octavia brought me home.”
“A brilliant beast, that one,” Rose mumbles.
Adelina feels Rose’s gaze, but she doesn’t meet her eyes; the lady’s maid would know she’s lying, would see it on her face. She’s never made a habit of lying before now, and it feels both unnatural and exhilarating. For once, she holds a gem of information that no one else in the home is privy to—not her mother, not Rose, and not the maids.
“We need not tell Mama and Papa what transpired,” Adelina says, trying to keep her voice level, casual.
