Page 22 of A Duke's Unwanted Bride
She tried not to think about how it would be a welcome distraction from her thoughts of the Duke.
“Of course, My Lady.” Martha’s voice was polite but distant as she walked into the drawing room. “Was there something in particular you required?”
Adele swallowed as she closed the door. “I wanted to see how you were doing. I am sorry we have not had a chance to speak before now.”
“You need not apologise, My Lady. I am but a humble servant, and no doubt you had more… important things to do.” Adele saw the woman’s fingers twitch and heard the faint note of bitterness in her words.
Adele reached towards her, but Martha jerked away. “You are more than a servant.”
“That is kind of you to say, Your Ladyship, but I know my place.” Martha’s smile was thin and reedy, her eyes flashing with something darker.
Adele winced. “I know what you meant to him. I can only imagine how hard this is for you. If you need anything, anything at all, you need only ask.”
“There is nothing you can offer that I need.” Martha took a step back, curling her hands into fists.
“I will do whatever I can to keep you and your baby safe; that is what he would have wanted.”
“It matters little what he wanted.” Martha shook her head. “His dream died with him. The reality is that I am an unmarried servant. You are his widow.”
“Martha, I—” Adele began but the servant cut her off.
“If that is all, My Lady, then I will take my leave of you. I have work to do.” She placed emphasis on the word work. “The estate does not run itself, and it seems like you have a guest.”
“What?” Adele turned around at the same moment as the smell of sandalwood washed over her.
Duke Scarfield was walking towards her, his familiar strong and commanding steps echoing in the hall. He arched an eyebrow at her as she narrowed her eyes at him.
“I believe it is rather customary to wait to be announced rather than inviting yourself into someone’s home.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“I thought you did not set great stock by custom?” He shrugged. “I assure you, I will be here no longer than absolutely necessary.”
“Good.”
“I will just retrieve the books from the library, and then I will be on my way.” He nodded towards the door behind her.
“The library?” Her heart sank, and she glanced over her shoulder.
“That is where books tend to live, is it not?” The Duke took a step towards the door, and Adele moved in front of him.
“I know that I… It… How urgently do you need these?” She wrung her hands.
“Would I be here if it was not urgent?”
“I suppose not.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No. I mean… Not exactly. It is just… Oh well, I suppose you will see soon enough.” She sighed and flung open the door, revealing the chaos inside.
There were several bolts of fabric scattered across the room and a few half-finished dresses hung off mannequins. Her sketches were strewn all over the desk, nearly hiding her sewing kit.
“I did not know the modiste did home visits.” Duke Scarfield looked around the room. “I am surprised she left her sewing kit here.”
“She did not. All of this…” She gestured around them, wishing she had cleaned up. “It is mine. This is something of a work room for me.”
“You mean to tell me that you made these?” The Duke’s eyes widened, and he picked up one of the half-finished gowns as he looked over her sketches. “And the sketches, they are yours as well?”
“Yes.” She braced herself for the inevitable mockery, but it never came.
