“Tell me what’s wrong,” he’d said. “Perhaps I can help.”
“Nothing is wrong,” Cecelia had answered. “I simply don’t know how to explain where I’ve been to my … to my guardian. I wanted one more night to think about it.”
Adam had clasped her hand. “I can come with you, explain what happened. I saw the whole thing. And Dr. Archibald can come too. We—”
“Just hold me, Adam,” she’d requested. “I’ll go back to taking care of myself tomorrow.”
The words had made his chest ache more but he’d respected the fact that she obviously didn’t want to discuss whatever sort of trouble she was in. “I’m sorry I’m not a duke,” he’d said quietly after a while.
“Oh, Adam, you’re so much better than the Duke of Loveridge,” she’d said.
“Am I?”
“Yes, you’re a real man, with real feelings, and you’ve only ever been nice to me. You helped me when I was hurt. You took me in. You pretended with me to keep me from being frightened. You made me laugh. And you’ve given me an extraordinary gift tonight. Thank you, Adam. Thank you for everything.”
Adam’s throat had been tight. He didn’t know what to say. You’re welcome seemed far too inadequate. She’d given him something, too. Whether her name was Magnolia or Cecelia, the young woman he’d come to know was kind and caring and loving and warm. She cared about her sister and she’d been a good friend to Lucy. She was funny and well-read and intelligent. She’d written a book and been brave enough to try to sell it. And she’d been the only person Adam had ever known who’d expressed the same feeling he’d always felt. That he didn’t belong. When he was with her, he felt as if he could breathe.
They’d lain there and held each other in silence. The scent of her hair like roses filled his nostrils, the feel of her porcelain skin beneath his fingertips. He’d never felt so protective of anyone in his life. And it might just be the last time he ever would.
At dawn’s first light, she’d slipped on her night rail and fled the room without another word. No promises. No discussion of any sort of a future. He hadn’t seen her yet this morning, but he’d asked Hughes to please let him know the moment either Cecelia or Mary came downstairs. Thank goodness Lucy and Derek were both preoccupied with some sort of social event they’d agreed to this morning long before Cecelia had entered their lives. Adam couldn’t take any questions or knowing looks from his brother and sister-in-law at the moment. Lucy had long ago suspected Adam had feelings for their houseguest, and after last night, he could no longer deny it.
It wasn’t long before Hughes entered the drawing room and announced Miss Mary Harcourt. Adam stopped pacing. He had some questions for the girl.
Mary entered the room moments later, dressed as before in her respectable, if outdated and faded, gown.
“You … wanted to see me, Mr. Hunt,” she said tentatively. The poor girl looked scared out of her wits.
“Yes, Mary. May I ask you a question?” It had been something he’d been wondering about for a bit, but Lucy, blast her, had squirreled Cecelia’s novel away to her bedchamber, apparently to read it again.
“Of course, Mr. Hunt,” Mary replied.
“What happens at the end of the story?”
Mary’s brow furrowed. “Pardon?”
“What happens at the end of Lady Magnolia and the Duke? Does Lady Magnolia marry the duke?”
Mary shook her head and swallowed. “I don’t know. Cece wrote the ending just before she left and I didn’t have a chance to read it. But I do hope that Lady Magnolia and the Duke of Loveridge live happily ever after.”
Adam sighed and paced toward the door this time. “Why won’t your sister tell me what’s wrong?”
The girl’s voice was hesitant but tentative. She coughed. “What’s wrong, Mr. Hunt?”
He turned to see her pale face and held up a hand. “She’s all but admitted she’s in danger. I want to know what sort of danger.”
Mary wrung her hands. “Oh, please don’t blame her,” Mary exclaimed, fighting another cough. “She wanted one more night in a grand house. A duke’s house.”
Adam clenched his jaw. That wasn’t the answer he’d expected. Not at all. “So she’s not in danger?”
“Not the physical sort,” Mary replied. “You see, the truth is that she’s engaged to Percy, and he’s—”
Adam’s head snapped up. Engaged? “Pardon?”
Mary pressed a hand to her wheezing chest. “She didn’t tell you that, either? Perhaps I should remain silent until you have a chance to speak more to Cecelia. You see, Uncle Herbert has taken over Father’s house and it means so much to Cecelia and me. I know she doesn’t want me to have to leave, but I need medicine and—” The girl sighed. “I’ve said too much already. I’ll go now.”