Page 44 of Taming a Beastly Duke
She was so overjoyed that she almost did not see the piece of paper slide across the floor as it caught her foot. She blinked, briefly confused as she followed its path and reached to pluck it from the ground. She opened it, her delight dissipating and her heart dropping as she read it.
Look what happened to the last woman who got too close to the beast. Your death will break him completely.
The note was more cryptic than the last had been. Was someone trying to warn her about Marcus endangering her himself, or were they concerned for his well-being if something tragic were to happen to her? Her hands trembled at the thought of what would happen to Marcus if he lost someone else he loved so dearly.
No, she thought, shaking her head firmly, crumpling the note. She strode across the room, tossing the note in the lit fireplace. As she watched it burn, she made two decisions. She would never tell Marcus about the threats, and she would not let anyone drive her away from him. Whatever her fate might be, she would rather endure it with Marcus as hers rather than without him. And if the previous night was any indication, he felt the same way.
Chapter Twenty
The morning sun streamed in through the windows of the breakfast room, casting an awkward cheerfulness over the gathered family. Helena and the dowager duchess talked pleasantly as always as they ate their meal. However, the atmosphere felt strange to Adelaide as if the brightness in the room was forced, or it only existed on the surface of something more unpleasant.
Adelaide tried to control the tremble in her fingers as she held her teacup. She could not be sure if she was correct in her assessment of the energy in the room or if she merely felt exposed, as though everyone knew what she and Marcus had done the previous evening.
“Are you all, right?” Helena asked her suddenly, startling her.
She looked at her aunt, realizing too late that her eyes were a little too wide and her mouth was pinched into a thin line. She quickly corrected her expression, blinking to relax her eyes and giving a wide smile.
“Yes, of course,” she said, trying to pace her words and tone. “I was just admiring the beauty of the weather.”
Helena nodded, raising an eyebrow at her niece curiously. Adelaide forced her smile to relax a bit more, nodding silently to try to reassure her aunt. Helena eventually nodded, returning her smile. But Adelaide’s concern returned when Helena glanced toward their host with inquisitive eyes. Adelaide was relieved that he was holding the newspaper and did not look in Helena’s direction. But when she sneaked a glance at him, his eyes met hers instantly with the same desire which had led to their encounter the previous night.
She tried to keep her gaze off her lover, wishing to avoid evoking any suspicion if there were not already questions in the minds of everyone else at the table. But she found it difficult to avoid stealing quick glances at him to admire the strength which seemed to be returning to his jaw and posture and the vibrant life his eyes now radiated.
“Adelaide,” Edith said, giving Adelaide a tentative smile. “I was thinking of painting in the gardens for a little while this morning. Would you like to join me?”
Adelaide struggled to keep her expression from changing. It was a strange request which had never before been made, and her thoughts wereinsisting that Edith must know her secret. But she simply blinked, praying the gesture was as innocent as she intended, nodding eagerly.
“That sounds lovely,” she said. “I would be happy to join you.”
Edith beamed at her, and suddenly her face looked as normal as ever to Adelaide. She scolded herself for being foolish and believing that their family members could know what had transpired between them.
She looked at Marcus, who appeared to be struggling as much as she was to remain calm and maintain proper decorum in front of their loved ones. She gave him the politest smile she could muster as she looked pointedly at the basket of toast that sat near his left hand.
“Would you kindly pass the toast, Your Grace?” she asked.
Marcus looked surprised, blinking rapidly and correcting his expression to one of indifference as he fetched the basket.
“Of course, Miss Barrett,” he said. Only Adelaide noticed the drop in his timbre, just as the previous night. Yet when his hand brushed hers as he passed the basket to her, his breath caught in tandem with hers as her thoughts flooded her with memories of the passionate caresses from the night before.
The peaceful morning vanished, however, only a moment later. As her lover replaced the basket in its place, all the color drained from his face. He reached for his glass, but his hand was trembling so badly that he only succeeded in spilling it all over himself and the table. The dowager duchess’s attention was on her grandson in a breath, the bite of food she was about to take abandoned in her hand.
“Darling, what is it?” she asked, sounding concerned.
Marcus opened his mouth, Adelaide assumed to respond. However, before he could speak, he groaned, shaking violently in his chair. His movements became more erratic and physically consuming, and before long, his entire powerful frame was wracked with tremors, worse than Adelaide had ever seen before. Adelaide thought back to his last terrible episode and how it seemed to have occurred around the same time as Mr. Fletcher’s last treatment.
Was it before or after? She thought, trying desperately to remember. She could not, however. All she knew was that Marcus was terribly ill again, and that he needed help.
The teacup slipped from his grip, dark liquid staining the pristine tablecloth. Adelaide shook her head, trying to rid herself of the shock of the sudden relapse. She glimpsed Miss Potter hovering nearby, much as she had when Marcus received treatment from Mr. Fletcher. Adelaide could not make sense of the odd things she was beginning to notice, or of the maid’s obsessive behavior. However, the way her hands shook as she cleaned up the spilled tea spoke of more than a servant’s anxiety, and everyone else at the table seemed to notice. Everyone, that is, except her lover, who seemed to be slipping toward unconsciousness, despite the continuing tremors in his body.
“Miss Potter,” the dowager duchess snapped, causing the maid to start. “Fetch the butler and a footman. Get Marcus to his chambers at once. Then, send for Mr. Fletcher. Go, now.”
The dowager duchess’s tone never brooked for any argument. Right then, however, her orders were rough and allowed for no dallying. The maid rushed off, returning a moment later with the men her mistress requested. They hoisted Marcus out of his seat and together carried him out of the room.
Overwhelmed with fear and confusion, Adelaide fled the room without a word. She ran straight to the library, seeking comfort in the memories the room now held for her. All she found, however, was her worry in a silence that was as complete as the urgency in the breakfast room had been.
She did not bother pretending to have an interest in reading. Instead, she paced by the fireplace which had been the only known witness to the passionate night between Marcus and her. She prayed her lover would recover from this illness, hoping that she had not lost him just as soon as he had given himself completely to her.
She recalled every touch and kiss exchanged the previous night and every affirming and loving word spoken. She thought about how they were now only Miss Barrett and His Grace to one another when they were among other people. She thought about the future they might have if he were to recover from his illness. However, most of all, she worried about what was to come if he did not survive his fit. She admitted, only to herself, that she was falling in love with Marcus. To lose the man she loved so soon after finding him would be devastating. She did not know if she could cope with such a terrible loss.
