Page 8 of The Pureblood Daughter
“Whyever do you laugh?”
“You seem to think me interesting, my lord.”
“Fiercely so.” He speaks emphatically, a hand wrapping around one of the iron bars that separates them. His fingers seem to strain at the metal as if longing to pull it away.
As he leans in, Adelina is drawn to do the same. She studies the shadow on his jaw, the flecks of sage and emerald in his eyes, their color so alike the ferns that tickle her bare ankles.
“And what gave you such a preposterous idea?” she asks, her voice having dropped to almost a whisper.
“You diminish yourself.” His hand trails down the wrought iron, nearing where Adelina’s fingertips touch the cool metal. He moves slowly, as if giving her a chance to pull away. But she doesn’t.
His fingers brush hers, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think herself on fire. The heat that blossoms in her stomach is like nothing she’s felt before. It reaches into her chest and wraps around her heart, squeezing it until she feels it might burst.
“Miss Gray?” Rose calls from the garden. “Are you out here?”
Adelina pulls back from the fence, blinking as if awakening from a dream.
“I must see you again,” Lord Rosetti whispers.
“Miss Gray?” Rose’s voice is louder now, drawing closer. “Where are you?”
“Tomorrow,” Adelina says, stepping away from the fence. “Midday. I’ll be promenading at the park.”
Her skirt catches on the rose bush, and as she reaches down to free herself, a thorn pricks her skin. Blood wells on her fingertip, and she hisses as she finally pulls the fabric free. Behind her, the viscount draws an audible breath.
“Clumsy,” Adelina says, glancing up to give Lord Rosetti a genial smile. But he’s gone, and his carriage is already rolling away.
“There you are!” Rose huffs. A wisp of curly hair is stuck to her cheek, and she brushes it away with a cluck of her tongue. “Did you not hear me calling for you, miss?”
“Sorry, Rose.” Adelina tucks her hands behind her. “I must not have heard you through the greenery.”
The lady’s maid glances over Adelina’s shoulder, and one of her eyebrows quirks in the corner. Adelina waits for her to ask what she was doing in the bushes, but Rose spares her.
“Very well. I sought only to ensure you are well. Your cheeks are quite flushed. Perhaps you should sit down.”
“Oh, yes.” Adelina reaches up and presses the back of her hand to her cheek. It’s warm to the touch, but not from the summer heat. “Thank you. You always watch out for me.”
“Of course I do.” Rose smiles warmly, then beckons Adelina from where she stands in a flowerbed. “Come now, before the gardener sees you and has a coronary.”
Adelina allows Rose to lead her back to her canvas and accepts a cup of tea, which she sips as the leaves rustle overhead. Once Rose has returned to the house, Adelina lets her eyes wander toward the fence. The sensation of Lord Rosetti’s fingertips on hers still lingers, and she’s glad not to have an audience when heat once more rushes to her face.
What would it feel like for him to—
Adelina stops the thought before it has a chance to blossom into something more. As she sets her tea on the table and turns back to her canvas, she notices the same shades of green in her painting that sparkled in Lord Rosetti’s eyes.
A promenade in the park will be innocent enough, she thinks,and Papa need never know about it.
Her lips curl ever slightly, and she picks up her brush to resume painting.
Chapter Five
“Mama?” Adelina says from whereshe sits at the pianoforte in the drawing room the following day. Her fingers have been dancing across the keys, filling the room with Beethoven, but now she pauses and turns on the bench to face her mother.
“Yes, dear?” Her mother doesn’t look up from her stitching, so Adelina clears her throat.
“I was hoping we could—”
The door to the drawing room opens, and Simon sweeps in with his polished letter tray. At this, Lady Gray looks up. She gives the butler a warm smile while swiping the letter from the tray. Simon tips his head before walking silently from the room, disappearing as quickly as he arrived.
