Page 51 of How Not to Marry a Duke

She held onto her anger at the insult. “You mean Miss Hasmik? Yes, my companion accompanied me in the duke’s carriage from Kent.”

His eyes narrowed in obvious disapproval. “Why are you here?”

“To visit Mary, of course. I wouldn’t waste my time to see you.”

His fingers tightened on his walking stick. “You have nerve.”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked innocently.

“The Scandal Sheets have been abuzz about you, Adeline.”

“I thought you never read the gossip rags.”

“And to think,” he said as he walked close, “I thought you were as dried up as one of those herbs you used to hang in the cellar. Maybe that is why that mad duke likes you.”

The barb hurt, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. Her chin jutted out as she faced him. “His Grace and I informed you of our affections toward each other when you rudely burst into my country cottage to attempt to marry me off.”

She was aware that although Bertram had disappeared, he was never far. Her mother had once told her the walls had ears when it came to the servants. She could only imagine what they were thinking now.

“As for the duke’s affections toward you, sister, I’m not entirely convinced of your so-called courtship. It was too quick and unexpected. The duke is engrossed in his silly inventions, and you are just as obsessed with your herbal potions.”

“So? We are like-minded.” She felt lightheaded from his scrutiny. She forced her gaze to meet his cold one.

“Hmm. I’ve given it much thought after I left you that day. Your courtship is too convenient for both of you.”

“Your mind is playing tricks on you, my lord.”

“But, if by chance, your courtship is true, I’m still not concerned. Even Warwick will come to his senses eventually and toss you aside.”

She fought the urge to strike him with the reticule she clutched. “Why would you care? Are you so deeply in debt that I am your last hope when it comes to the moneylender? I pity you, Edwin. You’ll have to find another way.”

“How dare you speak to me that way under my—”

“Adeline! Is that you I hear?” A soft voice sounded from the landing of the staircase.

“Yes, it’s me, Mary.” Adeline attempted to rush to the bottom of the winding staircase when Edwin’s hand snaked out to grasp her arm.

“I’ll be watching you and Warwick,” Edwin hissed, then just as abruptly, he released her and stormed out of the house.

Adeline took a breath, resisting the urge to rub her arm. She forced a smile as she met Mary at the bottom of the staircase and embraced her sister.

“I’ve missed you terribly, Adeline!”

“And I’ve missed you too, Mary.”

The sisters were night from day. Mary’s blond hair, brown eyes, and fair complexion were in striking contrast to Adeline’s raven hair, blue eyes, and olive skin. Mary was less than a year older than Adeline, but Adeline had always felt like the protective older sister.

“How long will you stay?” Mary asked.

“For a while, darling.”

Mary looped her arm through Adeline’s, and they passed through the French doors leading to their favorite place, the outside gardens. They sat in chairs on the terra-cotta terrace where a maid served them lemonade. Fragrant daffodils and forget-me-nots bloomed in the garden and birds chirped. It was a pleasant day, and the sun warmed their cheeks. For the first time since arriving at her brother’s home, Adeline took a deep breath and relaxed. Thankfully, Edwin had left and she could visit her sister in peace. She had fond memories of playing with hoops with Mary as children in the gardens, and then when they were older, sitting on the terrace and gossiping about how the brothers next door had changed from awkward youths to handsome men.

Mary sipped her glass of lemonade. “I’ve missed you terribly. I’ve been writing, but I wish you were here for me to share my story ideas.”

Mary had published short gothic stories under a male pen name that had been successful. “Tell me about your writing—what are you working on now?”

Mary’s lips curved in a smile. “I’ve finished my first novel.”