Page 71 of His Scarred Duchess
“What would you have me do?” he asked finally, his voice low.
“Talk to her,” Daniel said simply. “Be honest with her about Joanna, about the letters. Let her in, Edmund. Before it’s too late.”
Edmund nodded slowly, the weight of his friend’s advice settling on his shoulders. “And if… if she reacts badly? If it changes how she sees me?”
Daniel’s expression softened further. “Then at least you’ll know you gave her the chance to understand. And who knows? Youmight be surprised by her reaction. From what I’ve seen, your duchess is made of stronger stuff than you give her credit for.”
A small smile tugged at Edmund’s lips despite himself. “She is.”
“Well then,” Daniel said, clapping his hands together. “Now that we sorted that out, how about a drink? I’d say we’ve both earned one after this heart-to-heart.”
Edmund chuckled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I suppose we have. Brandy?”
As he poured their drinks, his mind whirled with the implications of Daniel’s advice.
The thought of opening up to Adeline, of sharing the full extent of his past with Joanna, terrified him. But the alternative—continuing to push her away, potentially losing the fragile connection they’d begun to forge—was even more frightening.
“Adeline, my dear! Don’t tell me you’ve taken to hiding in the library like that curmudgeon of a husband of yours!”
Adeline looked up from her book, startled by the familiar voice echoing through the library. A smile spread across her face as she spotted her grandmother, Lady Gillingham, arm-in-arm with Lady Alderton. Both women beamed at her from the doorway.
“Grandmama, Lady Alderton! What a wonderful surprise,” Adeline exclaimed, setting aside her book and rising to greet them.
Lady Alderton tutted, wagging a finger at her. “Now, now, my dear. I thought we’d dispensed with such formalities. It’s Rachel, remember?”
“Of course, Rachel,” Adeline replied, suppressing a giggle at the older woman’s mock stern expression. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Can’t two old biddies simply want to check on their favorite grandchildren?” Lady Gillingham asked innocently.
Lady Alderton snorted most inelegantly. “Speak for yourself, Miriam. I’m no biddy. I prefer to think of myself as a well-seasoned connoisseur of life’s finer pleasures.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Lady Gillingham retorted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “And here I thought it was just an excuse to meddle in our grandchildren’s affairs.”
Adeline couldn’t help but laugh at their banter. “Well, whatever your reasons, I’m delighted to see you both. Shall we retire to the drawing room? I’ll have Thornley bring us some tea.”
As they settled into the drawing room, Edmund appeared in the doorway, his eyebrows rising at the sight of their unexpected guests.
“Grandmother,” he said, nodding to Lady Alderton. “Lady Gillingham. I wasn’t aware we were expecting visitors.”
“That’s because we didn’t tell you, darling,” Lady Alderton replied breezily. “We thought we’d surprise you. You know how I love to keep you on your toes.”
Edmund’s lips twitched, fighting a smile. “Indeed. How… thoughtful of you.”
“Oh, don’t be such a grump, Edmund,” Lady Alderton chided, patting the seat next to her. “Come sit by your dear old grandmother and tell me all about how married life is treating you.”
As Edmund reluctantly took his seat, looking for all the world like a schoolboy called to the headmaster’s office, Adeline had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
“Now then,” Lady Gillingham began, leaning forward conspiratorially. “We hear there’s to be a grand ball at Lord Weatherby’s estate next week. Surely you two lovebirds are planning to attend?”
Adeline felt her cheeks flush at the word ‘lovebirds’. She glanced at Edmund, who looked equally uncomfortable.
“We hadn’t really discussed it,” she began, but Lady Alderton cut her off with a wave of her hand.
“Nonsense! Of course, you’ll attend. It’sthesocial event of the Season, and you, my dear,” she said, fixing Edmund with a stern gaze, “need to show your face in Society more often. A duke can’t live like a hermit, you know.”
Edmund opened his mouth to protest, but at that moment, Thornley entered with a letter on a silver tray.
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but an invitation has just arrived for you and Her Grace. From Lord Weatherby.”
