Page 96 of How Not to Marry a Duke

“A blind woman could see it.”

Hasmik’s conviction made her feel oddly comfortable.

Hasmik stood and went into the kitchen to hang herbs on hooks to dry. Adeline rose and followed her. “I agree with the countess,” Hasmik said. “The duke should ‘come to scratch,’ as she says.”

On any other occasion, Hasmik’s use of the English saying would have made her laugh. “You spoke with Lady Heywood about us?”

Hasmik rolled her eyes. “You know we talked. I resided under her roof, as you English say. Why wouldn’t I speak with her about you two? She says the duke is enthralled.”

Adeline experienced another rush of emotion. She knew it was misplaced. The duke wasn’t enthralled or besotted; he had put on an act to convince his godmother that he was. As they had planned.

Hasmik knew the truth. Why was she acting as if things had changed? “Our intimate evening means nothing. Warwick never professed his love.” Adeline lifted her chin. “I have more pressing matters to think about, and we have much work to do. The villagers need me.”

Hasmik’s unblinking gaze heightened Adeline’s apprehension. “One day you must think of your own needs, Adeline. You cannot take in every stray or help every villager in need.”

“I do not—”

“You deserve happiness, too.”

A knock sounded at the front door.

“I’ll see who it is.”

“No, let me.” Adeline jumped to her feet. For a fleeting instant, she wanted it to be Warwick.

She opened the door and found Max Simmons and his son, Jonathan, on her front step. “Mr. Simmons,” she said in greeting. “Good to see you and your son. How is your leg?” She’d sewed a nasty wound on the carpenter’s thigh—five dozen stitches as she recalled. Warwick had stood in the corner of the kitchen as she’d worked.

Stars! Stop thinking of the duke.

“I heard talk that you’d returned,” Max Simmons said.

Adeline blinked. “How did anyone know?”

“Your coach passed the tavern. The town is small, and visitors are easily spotted.”

“Are you ill?” Adeline’s gaze traveled to his leg. His trousers covered his prior wound.

“No. We are here to help with your cottage.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I haven’t forgotten what you did for me.” His hand landed on his thigh. “I’m as good as new because of your care. I never forget a debt. Along with my son, I called upon friends.”

Adeline glanced past the man, and her heart jumped at the sight of four young men—farmers from the look of their worn boots—hats to shield them from the heat of the sun, and tanned skin. Three wives stood beside the men and held buckets, brooms, and mops. She smiled wide with joy.

“Come, Hasmik! I knew returning here was the right decision.”

…

Warwick had hired a hackney to take him to the edge of the rookeries. His black lacquered carriage would draw unwanted attention in this area of town and this visit was not a social call. Here the homes were closer together and not as well kept. Men and women in worn clothing hurried about their business, careful not to make direct eye contact. The alleyways were dark, and shadows skirted between the buildings.

Warwick drew immediate attention as he entered the main room of the tavern. The tables were crowded with men in coarse corduroy jackets and scuffed boots. Thick smoke swirled to the ceiling and stained the rafters. Buxom barmaids wove between tables with tankards of ale and cheap gin.

He ignored the stares and found Stan Slade in a back room of the tavern, sitting by himself at a table. Slade was counting coins, a thick cigar in his mouth that he flicked back and forth with his tongue. His hair was slicked with pomade, and his flat black eyes focused on the money. A middle-aged man with a full head of dark hair and fine clothing stood before him. The man looked as pale as a sheet of parchment, and he shifted his feet as if he’d flee at the slightest moment or urinate in his pants. Stan ignored the man’s discomfort, coins chinking on the table before him.

A huge, burly henchman with a broken nose and fleshy jowls that reminded Warwick of a mastiff, stood silently in the corner watching them.

The moneylender looked up from the coins to the man standing before him. “Is that all?”