Page 70 of His Scarred Duchess
As she made her way to her chambers, her mind whirled with the events of the day. The tender moment at breakfast, the easy companionship during dinner, the flash of something deeper in Edmund’s eyes just now—it all pointed to a shift in their relationship, a growing closeness that both thrilled and terrified her.
Be careful, she silently warned herself as she prepared for bed.Don’t let yourself fall too hard, too fast. Remember, this is still a marriage of convenience.
But as she drifted off to sleep, Adeline couldn’t quite silence the small voice in her heart that whispered,What if it could be more?
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Another letter from Lady Strathmore, Your Grace,” Thornley announced, his tone carefully neutral as he placed the envelope on Edmund’s desk.
Edmund’s jaw clenched as he eyed the elegant script. “Thank you, Thornley. That will be all.”
As soon as the butler had left, Edmund snatched up the letter, his fingers itching to tear it to shreds. Instead, he yanked open the bottom drawer of his desk and tossed it in with the others, a growing collection of unwanted correspondence.
“Won’t give up, will she?” Daniel’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Edmund looked up to see his friend lounging in the doorway, an eyebrow raised in question. “Daniel. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Clearly,” Daniel replied, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the study. His eyes fell on the drawer Edmund had just closed. “I take it that’s not the first letter from our dear Lady Strathmore?”
Edmund’s expression darkened. “No. She’s been… insistent in her attempts to communicate.”
“And you’ve been reading them?” Daniel’s tone was light, but Edmund could hear the undercurrent of concern.
“Of course not,” he snapped, more harshly than he’d intended. Softening his voice, he added, “I haven’t opened a single one of them.”
Daniel nodded, relief evident on his face. “Good. That’s… good.”
A tense silence fell between them. Edmund could feel Daniel’s eyes on him, searching for something. Finally, unable to bear the scrutiny any longer, he broke the silence.
“Out with it, Ravenshaw. What’s on your mind?”
Daniel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… are you sure you’re handling this the right way, old chap? Ignoring her completely?”
Edmund’s brow furrowed. “What would you have me do? Engage with her? You know as well as I do that nothing good can come of that.”
“I’m not saying you should respond,” Daniel clarified quickly. “But perhaps… I don’t know. Perhaps you could tell Adeline about the letters?”
At the mention of his wife’s name, Edmund felt a pang of guilt. “Adeline doesn’t need to be burdened with this. It’s in the past.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Is it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks very much like the past is trying to claw its way into your present.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Edmund insisted, his tone growing defensive.
“Like you handled it last time?” The words were out before Daniel could stop them, and he immediately looked contrite. “I’m sorry, that was unfair.”
Edmund waved off the apology, though the barb still stung. “You’re not entirely wrong,” he admitted. “But things are different now. I’m different.”
“Are you?” Daniel challenged. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re falling into the same old patterns. Shutting people out, trying to handle everything on your own.”
Edmund bristled. “That’s not?—”
“It is,” Daniel cut him off. “You have a wife now, Edmund. A good woman who clearly cares for you. And instead of letting her in, you’re keeping secrets and bottling everything up.”
“I’m protecting her,” Edmund argued. But even to his own ears, the words sounded weak.
Daniel shook his head, his expression softening. “You’re not protecting her, my friend. You’re pushing her away. And in doing so, you’re letting Joanna achieve exactly what she wants—driving a wedge between you and Adeline.”
Edmund fell silent, Daniel’s words hitting uncomfortably close to home. He thought of Adeline, of the hurt in her eyes when he’d withdrawn during their conversation about his father. Of the tentative hope he’d seen there in the days since—hope he’d been too afraid to nurture.
