Page 48 of A Duke for Adela
What did these diamonds expect their life to be after marriage? Was this the reason so many unions crashed upon the rocks? As trained as these young ladies were to catch a man, they had never been taught what to do afterward. Yes, they were given lessons on how to manage a household, but they had no idea how to manage a man. So, to these diamonds, they had reached the pinnacle of their lives when making a match, and it was all on a steep downhill slope once wedding vows were exchanged.
Ambrose and his brothers escorted Dr. Nordberg to the lecture hall and, as members of the Thorne family, sat with Ambrose on the far side of the stage in the family’s place of honor. He had invited Adela to join him, but she preferred to sit in the audience with her friends and Marigold.
He was not annoyed when she declined, understanding that she was not used to being the object of attention. She would have been uncomfortable seated beside him on the stage and gawked at by everyone.
However, he had overheard Adela muttering something about Runyon to her friends and experienced a moment’s qualm over the whispered remark. Would she be so single-mindedly possessed as to tackle the fellow in the lecture hall if he dared show his face?
He rubbed a hand across the nape of his neck, imagining what The Tattler would report. Why had he not insisted she sit on the stage with him? Well, she probably would have leaped out of her chair and flown through the air to grab the bounder.
Gad, he knew she would do just that.
He did not wish to appear an ogre, but neither did he wish to see her hurt. She would be angry, but he had to rein her in for her own good. “Adela…”
She pretended not to hear him and scurried off with the other ladies.
“Adela, blast it. Come back here.”
But she ignored him, refusing to look back even once.
“Blasted woman,” Ambrose grumbled, keeping his gaze on his betrothed as she took a seat beside Marigold.
Octavian arched an eyebrow. “What was that about?”
“She thinks she is as mighty as a knight on Crusade.” He quickly told his brothers about the stolen book. “I’m afraid she intends to take Runyon down on her own.”
Julius laughed. “I’d love to see her try. I’ll wager ten pounds she succeeds.”
“Twenty and you’re on,” Octavian said. “She’s too little to take down any man.”
Ambrose then mentioned she had knocked him over.
Octavian groaned. “Why didn’t you reveal that significant fact before I took Julius up on the wager?”
“Neither of you should be placing wagers on my future wife.” He frowned at both of them. “Oh, hell. She’s scanning the audience. She is convinced Runyon is going to show his face.”
“What are you going to do if he does show up? Leap off the stage the moment you notice her get out of her seat?” Octavian thought the possibility hilarious. “I’d love to see my staid brother lose all sense of decorum and do just that. Care to place a wager on this, Julius?”
Their youngest brother smiled. “Done. Twenty pounds says he keeps to his seat.”
“I say he leaps.”
“Blast it, Octavian. I am not going after her. I have a Bow Street runner on the task. He is the best in the business and I’ve had him following Runyon around for days. If that little rat dares show his face here, my man will be on him before Adela ever gets close…I hope.”
They settled into their chairs as the lecture began.
Since Ambrose had already heard most of it last week at the British Museum, he kept his attention on Adela instead. As they neared the close of the first hour and were about to take a short break before Dr. Nordberg took questions from the audience in this second hour, he saw Adela’s eyes suddenly widen. She whispered something to her friends and then clambered over them to race to the seat vacated by a gentleman wearing a dark hat and dark cloak who had just gotten up to leave.
She began to crawl under his empty chair.
Oh, dear Lord.
His brothers were trying hard not to burst out laughing.
“I knew I would like her,” Octavian said, putting a hand over his mouth as he pretended to cough to mask his chuckles. “She has a very pretty rump.”
Ambrose emitted a soft growl. “Do not stare at my betrothed’s backside.”
Yes, it was delightful, and she was wiggling it deliciously.
