Page 44 of His Scarred Duchess
It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough to kindle a small flame of hope in her heart.
A fortnight had passed since the incident with the maids, and Edmund found himself rising with the sun, as had become his habit. He dressed quickly and quietly, intent on escaping to the stables before the rest of the household—specifically Adeline—stirred.
As he made his way down the grand staircase, he paused, his gaze drawn to the portrait of his parents that hung in the entrance hall. His mother’s kind eyes seemed to reproach him, and he could almost hear her asking,“Edmund, darling, why are you running from your wife?”
He shook his head, banishing the thought. He wasn’t running, he told himself. He was simply… maintaining a necessary distance. It was better this way, safer. He couldn’t risk letting Adeline get too close, couldn’t bear the thought of being hurt again as he had been with Joanna.
The cool morning air was a welcome relief as he strode towards the stables. His mount, a spirited black stallion named Midnight, nickered softly in greeting as he approached his stall.
“At least you’re always glad to see me, old friend,” Edmund murmured, running a hand over the horse’s sleek neck.
Hours later, as he returned from his ride, he was surprised to find the manor in a state of barely contained chaos. Servants rushed about, their faces pinched with worry, and he could hear raised voices coming from the direction of the kitchens.
Frowning, he handed Midnight off to a stable boy and made his way towards the commotion. As he approached the kitchens, he was brought up short by the sight before him.
Adeline stood in the center of the room, her honey-brown hair escaping its pins and her cheeks flushed with exertion. She was covered in flour, her elegant day dress utterly ruined, but her green eyes blazed with determination as she addressed the assembled staff.
“Mrs. Potts, I need you to take inventory of what supplies we have left,” she was saying, her voice calm but authoritative. “Thornley, please send word to our suppliers in the village. We’ll need to restock as quickly as possible.”
“But Your Grace,” Mrs. Potts protested, wringing her hands, “Lord Tarlington is due to arrive for dinner in mere hours! How can we possibly?—”
“We’ll manage,” Adeline said firmly. “Sally, fetch my sewing kit. We’ll need to mend these tablecloths at once. And someone must clean up this mess before our guests arrive.”
Edmund watched, amazed, as the staff sprang into action at her commands.
Gone was the uncertain, hesitant woman he’d grown accustomed to seeing at meals. In her place stood a true duchess, every inch the mistress of Holbrook Manor.
As the initial flurry of activity settled into a more organized hustle, Adeline finally noticed Edmund’s presence. She straightened, a hint of defiance in her posture, as if daring him to criticize her handling of the situation.
“Your Grace,” she said, inclining her head slightly. “I apologize for the disturbance. There was an incident with a delivery cart. Several crates of provisions were destroyed, along with some of our best linens. But I assure you, everything will be in order before the Earl arrives.”
Edmund found himself at a loss for words. He had assumed, in his absence, that Adeline would flounder in her role as Duchess. Instead, she had risen to the challenge magnificently.
“I see,” he managed, finally. “You seem to have the situation well in hand, Duchess. Carry on.”
Was it his imagination, or did a flash of disappointment cross Adeline’s face at his lukewarm response? But before he could contemplate it further, she had turned back to the task at hand, issuing more instructions to the staff.
Edmund retreated to his study but found himself unable to concentrate on his correspondence. His mind kept drifting back to the scene in the kitchen, to the competent, commanding woman Adeline had revealed herself to be.
It was unsettling. He had married her, expecting a decorative, if somewhat flawed, ornament for his arm at social functions. Instead, he was discovering layers of her that he hadn’t anticipated—layers that both intrigued and frightened him.
As the day wore on, Edmund found himself drawn back to the common areas of the house, ostensibly to check on the preparations for the dinner. In reality, he was seeking glimpses of Adeline as she efficiently managed the crisis.
He watched from doorways and around corners as she mended tablecloths with deft fingers, rearranged floral centerpieces to hide imperfections, and soothed the frazzled nerves of the kitchen staff with kind words and reassuring smiles.
By the time the Earl of Tarlington and his wife arrived, the manor was in perfect order. If their guests noticed anything amiss, they gave no sign of it.
Edmund found himself watching Adeline closely as she greeted their guests, noting how she had carefully styled her hair to partially obscure the scars on her cheek. The effort touched him in a way he hadn’t expected, an admiration for her resourcefulness, and a twinge of something like regret that she felt the need to hide.
As they moved to the dining room, Edmund couldn’t help but notice the grace with which his wife carried herself. She had transformed from the flour-covered, harried woman of the afternoon into every inch the elegant Duchess of Holbrook. Hergown, a becoming shade of deep blue, complemented her eyes and skin tone perfectly.
“I must say, Your Grace,” the Countess of Tarlington remarked as they took their seats, “your home is absolutely charming. The floral arrangements are particularly lovely.”
Adeline smiled, though Edmund noticed how she angled her face slightly, keeping her scarred cheek in shadow. “You’re very kind, Lady Tarlington. I’m so pleased you’re enjoying them. I find there’s something so uplifting about fresh flowers, don’t you agree?”
As the first course was served, the conversation flowed easily. Edmund found himself increasingly impressed by Adeline’s ability to engage their guests. She listened attentively, asked thoughtful questions, and offered witty observations that had even the usually taciturn Earl chuckling.
“I hear you’ve been implementing some new farming techniques on your estate,” the Earl said, turning to Edmund. “Crop rotation, was it?”
