Page 88 of How Not to Marry a Duke

“Life is so short, so precious. The gift of true love comes only once in a lifetime. If I lose her, I won’t survive it.”

Warwick was struck by the words. Jagged thoughts came to him in a flash. Adeline outside her home the first time he’d seen her. Adeline boldly shutting the bedroom door and kissing him after his godmother arranged to have them together. Adeline in the bookshop, sitting beside him, her blue eyes alight as they whispered behind a newspaper. He knew nothing about love. He knew mathematics and engineering and how to increase the efficiency of a train’s engine. Then along came Adeline—a rare gift that came once in a lifetime.

Another scream and Warwick nearly had to tackle his friend to keep him in the room.

Then, mercifully, they heard the baby’s cry.

…

Drake sank to his knees by his wife’s side. Warwick hovered in the doorway, not wanting to interfere in the private moment. Adeline nodded at him and headed for the doorway.

“Adeline,” Lady Drake called out. “Thank you. You saved my baby.”

Adeline smiled at the new parents, then stepped outside and quietly shut the door behind her. She looked up at Warwick. “It’s a girl.”

Warwick’s gaze traveled over her from head to toe. Her dark hair had been styled in a chignon for the ball tonight, and wisps of unruly curls had escaped to frame her heart-shaped face. Perspiration beaded her brow, and blood stained her sapphire ballgown. She’d never looked more beautiful to him. He held out his arms.

“Oh Warwick.” She sank into his embrace, her head resting on his chest. “I feared she would die. Or the baby.”

His heartbeat thundered in his chest. “But neither did. Both are safe and alive thanks to you.”

She shuddered and his arms tightened around her.

“Come,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

She nodded, then stepped back. A frown marred her brow. “Wait! You’re bleeding.”

Warwick followed her gaze. He’d removed his coat hours ago and tossed it across one of the armchairs. He’d opened his wound when he’d restrained Drake from fleeing the study like a madman.

“It’s nothing.” It was just like Adeline to care for him after spending hours caring for Lady Drake and the baby.

She rolled up his shirtsleeve to study the extent of the injury. “Take me to your home instead.”

Chapter Sixteen

The carriage stopped outside his house. If his servants thought it unusual for Adeline to attend the duke well after midnight without a chaperone, none showed it. Once Warwick informed Nelson and Mrs. Posner what had transpired at the Drake home and the birth of the earl’s child, the butler and housekeeper had been eager to see to Adeline’s needs.

Adeline was led to a guest chamber where a fresh, pressed dress from one of the servants had been delivered along with wine and food. A young maid helped her change out of her ruined ballgown before meeting Warwick in his ballroom workshop.

He’d removed his coat and waistcoat and had tossed them onto an armchair. Dressed in his shirtsleeves, cravat, dark trousers, and Hessians, he looked like a fierce pirate. Her gaze lowered to his arm where drops of blood stained the white linen of his sleeve. Her brow furrowed. Thankfully, she’d had the foresight to leave her prepared salve behind on her last visit to his home.

She stepped forward. “Roll up your sleeve.”

“It isn’t necessary.”

“Do not be stubborn. I don’t want my prior treatment to go to waste if infection sets in.”

“I know not to argue with you. Your salve and bandages are in the top drawer of my desk.”

The newly healed skin had reopened, and Adeline hadn’t exaggerated. The risk of infection was a concern. She cleaned the wound and applied a good amount of salve, then wrapped it in fresh bandages.

Once she was finished, he poured her a glass of wine from a small sideboard in the corner and motioned for her to sit on a settee. The piece of furniture hadn’t been there the last time she’d visited his workshop.

“I had it moved here. I noticed a lack of seating for you.”

“You were certain I’d return?” She settled on the plush blue velvet and sipped her drink. He leaned against one of his workbenches sipping his own glass of wine.

“More like hopeful.”