Page 95 of How Not to Marry a Duke

The sight of the country cottage brought back a rush of feelings. Happiness. Relief. And a strange sadness. She knew what was responsible for the last emotion. Rather who was responsible.

She’d told Warwick to wait a week or longer before leaving London. There was no reason for her melancholy. Except for one.

She missed him.

They had spent weeks together and she had found herself looking forward to their meetings, their walks in the park, their intellectual conversations, the way he made her laugh, made her feel. Their flirtations to attract attention and their private kisses that had nothing to do with anything but their burgeoning desire.

She was never one to lie to herself. She had fallen helplessly in love with the man. The heart was a tricky organ. Ever since she was young, she’d wanted to find a man she could love, a man different than the aristocratic popinjays and the rogues of the beau monde.

Now she had found such a man and she wished she hadn’t. Their passionate night together was impossible to forget, and she replayed their conversation over and over in her mind. She had no doubt that he cared for her, but he hadn’t professed his love.

She didn’t regret her actions. She was a grown woman who’d made a choice. She’d understood their agreement, had understood their one evening might not turn into forever. She’d propositioned him.

Hasmik opened the door, and they stepped inside the cottage, redolent with lemon polish. A pleasant breeze stirred the white curtains they had washed before they left.

“Mrs. Taylor has maintained the place well,” Hasmik said.

“If only my father’s steward had cared for it half as attentively.”

“That man stole the earl’s gold. Back home, he would be jailed as a thief.”

Adeline knew Hasmik referred to Arabic law. The law was harsh with thieves, but those from wealthy homes fared much better with the corrupt judges than those from poor households. Some London magistrates were not much different and could be bribed.

Adeline began to unpack her medicine chest and arrange small glass vials of dried herbs on shelves. The cottage was clean, but it was still in need of numerous repairs before Adeline could use it for her intended purpose.

The roof was bare in spots and required repair before the winter. The banister leading to the second floor was loose. A large crack in the fireplace needed repair. Floorboards were damaged or missing in the drawing room, kitchen, and guest bedchamber. Outside the cottage, the garden gate was broken. Shutters needed painting. Flower beds must be weeded. The list was long.

She planned to turn the guest chamber into a sickroom where a patient or two could rest and she could check on them throughout the night if needed. It was far better than treating someone on the kitchen table.

She trailed her fingers along the back of a sofa in the front parlor then collapsed on the cushions. “You must be just as exhausted from traveling. Sit beside me for a moment.”

Hasmik sat beside her and crossed her arms over her chest. “We didn’t have to leave London so soon.”

“I told Lady Heywood that I would return.”

“Will you?”

“You know that I will visit Mary.”

“Yes, but will you visit Lady Heywood? Or most importantly, the duke?”

“I don’t know.”

“You are thinking of Warwick now. I know you well,” Hasmik said. “You never told me what happened that night.”

“Which night?”

Hasmik gave her a don’t-try-to-fool-me look. Adeline sighed. Hasmik was much more than her companion. She’d begun as Adeline’s nursemaid, but Adeline hadn’t looked at Hasmik as a nurse in a long time.

“The duke and I…we were together.” Adeline felt her cheeks grow hot.

“Did he seduce you?”

“No. I persuaded him.”

Hasmik arched an eyebrow. “A man who desires a woman does not need much persuading. And Warwick has wanted you for weeks.”

“You’re wrong.”