Suzanne lay awake, listening to the wind howling around Mrs. Ross’s house. Nature had brought them a storm overnight. Perhaps she’d been aware of the thunder and the lightning in a vague way. Adam had interested her more.
The rain came down in a thunderous volley and then seemed to stop for a little while, a curiously calming rhythm.
Her arm was extended toward Adam, who was still asleep. Her hand was curled, her knuckles resting against his bare chest. For some reason, it was important to her that they touch and maintain a connection.
He’d loved her again in the predawn hours before the world woke. This had been a silent joining, one without a word spoken. Their dance had been perfectly choreographed from the beginning of time. A strong and muscular male paired with a curvy, soft female. The only sounds they’d made were those of pleasure. The only requests were done with a kiss or a tender touch.
They had probably scandalized Mrs. Ross. Had their driver waited outside all night? Was Michael sitting, even now, in the rain? Adam had left his rooms for a few minutes last night. Had it been to make arrangements?
How very irresponsible of her not to have thought of Michael before now. She was not like George in that regard. He’d thought anyone in his employ should endure any sort of ill treatment. The privilege of working for the Duke of Marsley was enough, in his mind, to make up for any discomfort.
Yet she’d acted as selfishly last night, hadn’t she? She’d forgotten about anything but Adam.
If Michael had returned to Marsley House, had it been with a tale that he couldn’t wait to share with the rest of the staff? Surely she should be more concerned about her reputation? How very odd that it didn’t matter to her one whit. She just didn’t care.
The wind howled at the window as if to chastise her.
What did she care about the opinions of others? They hadn’t sat with her during the long, dark, endless nights. Not one of them had inquired as to her pain. None of them had even mentioned Georgie in all this time. As if the loss of her child was something unmentionable like her corset or shift.
She turned her head toward the window. Dawn had been overpowered by the storm, the rainbow of colors on the eastern sky muted by black clouds. Shadows lingered in this bedroom, draped Adam, and shielded both of them.
They would whisper about her behavior, that she wasn’t acting the role of duchess but one of a strumpet. What did she care about her title? It had never brought her happiness or belonging or a true home. If Georgie had lived she would have tolerated George without a word spoken in protest. If her son hadn’t perished, she would have endured her life, grateful for the gift of being a mother. Now?
She stared at the shadowed ceiling.
A thought was beginning to penetrate the haze of grief surrounding her for the past two years. Living didn’t mean that she loved Georgie any less. In the back of sadness, pushing forward inexorably was another emotion: hope. It had no actual reason for being. It wasn’t tied to anything tangible. It simply existed like the sunrise and the sunset, ephemeral and constant.
Georgie’s death had taught her that her world, the world that was familiar and normal, would be forever different. Nothing would be the same. Yet her life needn’t be over. She could still feel. Last night had proven that.
Adam’s hand touched her cheek gently before he rose up and kissed her softly.
“Have you been awake long?”
“Only a few minutes,” she said, rolling over to face him. She was naked beneath the sheet, but she didn’t feel awkward or self-conscious. Instead, she felt free in ways she never had before. The Daring Duchess. She much preferred that to Marble Marsley.
His fingers pushed the hair behind her ear. She was going to have a terrible time brushing it later. She would have to borrow his brush because she hadn’t left Marsley House with her reticule and didn’t have a comb.
When she returned home, everyone would know what she’d been doing. She hadn’t taken a great deal of care with her clothing last night. No doubt it was wrinkled, but the black silk didn’t show much abuse. Perhaps she could get away with it.
“What excuse shall we give when we return to Marsley House?” she asked.
“Why must we return?”
Now that was an idea, one she hadn’t considered. Perhaps she could run away completely from her role and that enormous house. Georgie had been the only bright light in an otherwise dull and dark existence.
She reached out, her fingers trailing over Adam’s bristly cheek and then tracing the shape of his lips. What a truly handsome man he was. Her hero. Her man of mystery. What had he called it? Not the War Office, but something else. The Silent Service.
She placed her hand gently over the scar on his shoulder. “How did you get this?” she asked.
“I was shot.”
“At Manipora,” she said.
He nodded.
Horrified, she stared at that small mark. A few inches lower and it would have struck his heart. He would have died in India and she would never have known him.
She pressed both hands against his chest.
“Oh, Adam,” she said, unable to tell him what she felt. She was both terrified and grateful. He must take greater care. He could still be injured.
What would she do without him?
The question shocked her. He wasn’t her majordomo. He wasn’t her servant. He owed her no loyalty or devotion. After today she would probably never see him again.
“Sankara,” she said, the name suddenly occurring to her.
“The duke’s secretary?”
She nodded. “He came home from India with George. I sometimes think Sankara was George’s only friend. If anyone would know where that journal is, it’s Sankara.”
“He left after your husband died, didn’t he?”
“I was all for him staying on, but I think he was lost without George.”
He leaned over to kiss her again.
“Fair enough,” he said, several delightful moments later. “I’ll send word to him.”
She shook her head. “Sankara won’t come. He’s a man of great pride, Adam.”
“Then I’ll go see him.”
She curved her palm against his cheek. “Not without me. I absolutely insist upon it.”
“Are you back to being a duchess, Your Grace?”
“I am, Drummond, and I also insist that you kiss me again. Consider it a command.”
“Very well, but only because I always do my duty.”
And much more than that.