Page 30 of His Scarred Duchess
“We’ve been simply dying to speak with you,” Miss Carstairs simpered, batting her eyelashes at Edmund. “You must tell us all about your estate in the north. I hear it’s absolutely breathtaking.”
Adeline felt Edmund stiffen beside her, his jaw clenching visibly. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for him, faced with such blatant fawning. But then she remembered his earlier rudeness and decided he deserved every moment of discomfort.
“Ladies,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a rather inopportune moment. Lady Adeline and I were discussing?—”
“Oh, don’t let us interrupt you,” Miss Carstairs interrupted, her eyes flicking dismissively over Adeline. “I’m sure Lady Adeline won’t mind if we borrow you for a moment. After all, it’s not as though you were engaged in anyimportantconversation.”
The barb, thinly veiled as it was, struck home. Adeline felt a familiar ache in her chest, the pain of rejection and exclusion that she’d thought herself long since inured to.
But to her surprise, Edmund didn’t immediately acquiesce to Miss Carstairs’ request. Instead, his brow furrowed slightly as he looked at Adeline, something unreadable flickering in his gray eyes.
“Actually, Miss Carstairs,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “Lady Adeline and I were discussing the upcoming charity event for the orphanage. Her ideas for fundraising have been most creative.”
Adeline blinked in surprise, warmth blooming in her chest at his unexpected defense even if it was a lie.
Edmund turned to her, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Perhaps we could continue our conversation later, Lady Adeline? I’m particularly interested in your thoughts on involving more of the local community.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Adeline replied, fighting to keep the shock from her voice. “I look forward to it.”
Edmund nodded, then addressed the group of ladies. “Now, what was it you wanted to discuss?”
And just like that, Adeline found herself alone, watching as the Duke was swept away by a tide of pastel-clad admirers. She stood there for a moment, feeling foolish and out of place, before squaring her shoulders and turning away.
She would not let them see how much their casual cruelty affected her. She was Adeline Follett, and she had endured far worse than the snubs of empty-headed Society misses.
As she made her way back to where she’d left her grandmother, she couldn’t help but reflect on the strange encounter with the Duke. He’d been so different from the man she’d met in Lady Windhurst’s garden—cold and distant, where before he’d been intriguing and almost playful.
Had she imagined the connection between them that night? Had it all been a product of moonlight magic, destined to crumble in the harsh light of day?
“Adeline, my dear! There you are.”
Her grandmother’s voice pulled her from her melancholy thoughts. Lady Gillingham was engaged in animated conversation with a group of older ladies, all of whom turned to regard Adeline with varying degrees of curiosity and poorly concealed pity.
“Come, you must join us,” Lady Gillingham said, patting the seat beside her. “Lady Sutton was just telling us the most fascinating story about her late husband’s adventures in India.”
Adeline forced a smile, taking her seat with as much grace as she could muster. As Lady Sutton launched into what promised to be a long and likely embellished tale, Adeline allowed her mind to wander.
She thought of Edmund—no, the Duke, she corrected herself firmly. She had no right to think of him by his Christian name. She thought of the way he’d looked at her in the garden that night, as though she were the most fascinating creature he’d ever encountered.
And then she thought of the cool dismissal in his eyes today, the way he’d so easily abandoned her to the mercy of Miss Carstairs and her ilk.
It was for the best, really. In a few short weeks, she would be gone, exiled to the wilds of Scotland. What did it matter if the Duke of Holbrook found her intriguing or not? What did any of it matter?
And yet, as the afternoon wore on and Adeline found her gaze continually drawn to the tall figure moving about the gardens, she couldn’t quite extinguish the tiny flame of hope that flickered in her chest.
Hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to the Duke than met the eye.
Chapter Thirteen
“Your Grace, we’ve heard such fascinating things about your agricultural innovations!” exclaimed a young debutante, her eyes wide with exaggerated interest.
Edmund suppressed a sigh as he turned to face yet another group of ladies and their eager mamas. He’d lost count of how many such encounters he’d endured over the course of the afternoon, each one chipping away at his already fragile patience.
“Indeed?” he replied, his tone neutral.
Lady Pendleton, a matronly woman with an air of determined curiosity, leaned in closer, undeterred by his obvious discomfort. “Oh, it’s all anyone can talk about! Tell us, Your Grace, is it true that you’ve introduced a revolutionary method of… er… plowing?”
Edmund’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Plowing, Madam?”
