Chapter 23

Adelaide couldn’t keep the smug little grin off her face as she hopped into the curricle with the barest amount of assistance from Trent. Thanks to their nearly daily rides, she was growing quite comfortable with the vehicle. She was even considering asking him to teach her how to drive it.

Not that she’d have anywhere to drive to while they lived in the city. But perhaps later, when there were children—and she was beginning to believe that one day there would be children—they would spend more time in the country. Then she could drive herself places, perhaps even get her own wagon, like her mother used.

But for now, she was satisfied with the fact that she no longer gripped the seat in abject terror or spent the whole ride worrying about falling out or catching her skirt in the wheel.

She didn’t even blink at the curricle’s rocking and swaying when Trent climbed in the other side.

As the wheels began to roll, though, the comfortable familiarity disappeared. Every day they’d gone to Hyde Park, rolling down Rotten Row to see and be seen. Adelaide knew every inch of the road to the legendary pathway, and this most certainly wasn’t it. “Where are we going?”

Trent grinned like a little boy, cheeks creasing into deep dimples as his nose crinkled in obvious glee. “Somewhere new. I truly can’t believe we haven’t done this yet. I can only blame my nervousness over the entire courting situation.”

Adelaide blinked at him, forgetting all about watching for clues as to their new destination in favor of examining her husband for signs that their relationship was changing. Never before had he said anything so personal, so closely connected to something relating to feelings. “You’ve been nervous?”

His eyes were wide as they glanced her way before returning to the traffic. “Haven’t you been?”

“Well, of course, but I didn’t think you were. I assumed this marriage was a mere inconvenience that you were trying to decide what to do with.”

One hand twisted to take both reins, freeing his other hand to run through his hair and across the back of his neck. “I suppose it was, at first. I can’t deny that I wished more than once that it would simply go away.”

“That I would go away.” Adelaide dropped her gaze to her lap, where her fingers were tightly laced together.

They were silent for a while as Trent maneuvered the horses under a cluster of trees in one of the open Mayfair squares. He hopped down and walked around the curricle but didn’t help her down. Instead he stood, arms braced on either side of the opening on her side of the carriage. She’d never seen his green eyes so dark and serious, his mouth relaxed but straight without an inkling of either smile or frown. “I thought I did, for a while. Want you to go away, that is. But I’m truly coming to believe that God doesn’t make mistakes and He had something planned for our lives even though we didn’t understand”—his wide grin returned—“and so I’m going to treat you to something no other woman has ever had.”

Resisting the answering joyful grin that tugged at her lips was impossible, so she gave in to it, throwing herself into whatever experience he was so excited to share with her.

A man in plain, black clothing stepped over to the curricle. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

“Ah, yes.” Trent rubbed his hands together and bounced on his toes. “Two Hawthorne Special Concoctions, if you please.”

The man nodded and then turned to dart through the traffic and into a shop on the corner of the square. From his drawings, she recognized an elaborate pineapple on the shop sign, and that made her wonder if their outing had anything to do with Trent’s pineapple-growing aspirations, but then another plainly clothed man darted through the traffic, this time with a pink confection in one hand and a yellow one in the other. He took them to another couple in another carriage positioned much like Adelaide and Trent’s curricle was.

“We’re at Gunter’s!” Adelaide clasped her hands to her chest and met Trent’s excited gaze with her own. She’d heard of the famous confectioner, popular not only for his cakes but for his delicious ices. “I’ve never been here.”

Trent laughed. “I know. I can’t believe I haven’t brought you here before now.”

Adelaide looked at him with narrowed eyes, waiting to speak until a particularly loud wagon and a large, noisy carriage passed on the street behind them. “But what, exactly, is a Hawthorne Special Concoction?”

“The only way to eat an ice at Gunter’s, my lady.” He leaned one shoulder against the curricle, rocking the vehicle slightly as he crossed one ankle over the other and folded his arms over his chest. “James Gunter himself worked it up for me after I spent half an hour trying to decide upon a flavor one day.”

“And what did you do to deserve such special attention?” Adelaide was a bit awed that Trent had received such personalized service that he could order the confection by simply giving his name. Everyone in the aristocracy came to Gunter’s and there were plenty of people more important and powerful than Trent.

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I pay my bill on time.”

Adelaide was still laughing when their waiter ran back across the street with two of the most ridiculous-looking desserts she’d ever seen. Shaped like a pineapple, each ice was a mottled collection of at least a dozen different colors, each pineapple segment bearing a different shade. Coming out of the top was a delicate, lacy biscuit.

She held the dish in one hand and a spoon in the other without the faintest idea how to start eating such a concoction. “What is this?”

“Fifteen flavors of ambrosia and a sprinkled sugar biscuit.” He scraped a spoon across the top of the ice and slid the bite into his mouth with a sigh of contentment.

Adelaide stabbed her spoon into her own frozen treat, drawing a groan from her companion.

“No, no, don’t do it that way.” He thrust his dish toward her. “Here. Hold this.”

She stuck her spoon in her mouth and let it dangle inelegantly from her lips so that her second hand could be free to balance his ice as well as hers. The utensil was nearly a lost cause at least three times as Adelaide couldn’t stop laughing at Trent racing around the curricle to climb back up into the seat.

He took his ice back from her, his fingers feeling even warmer than usual against her chilled hand.

“This is a delicate combination of flavors and you must eat it a certain way to obtain as much enjoyment from them as possible.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

He leaned toward her until his nose was a mere three inches from her own. Adelaide blinked, trying to bring him into focus as her spectacles caused him to blur in such close proximity. His breath was already sweetened by the few bites of dessert he’d eaten, and it washed over her like a comforting autumn wind. “I take my frivolity very seriously.”

She saluted him with her spoon. “Then, as your wife, I consider it my duty to give proper consideration to it as well.”

“Quite right.” His gaze dropped from the spoon to her lips and then back to his own confection. “Pay attention then, wife, and learn the only proper way to enjoy the best that Gunter’s has to offer.”

Trent was certain that one day he’d be able to look at his wife all dressed up for an evening out and not lose his breath. One day his heart wouldn’t forget its job for a moment and would maintain a steady rhythm in her presence. One day. But today was not that day. Especially not after sharing his treasured ice combination with her that afternoon. She’d applied herself with gusto, diligently copying every movement he made with his spoon until he began making some up. He’d discovered that, while swooping up a dollop of lemon and chocolate in the same bite was positively blissful, the lemon and the rose should never be mixed.

She’d coughed through that combination with a smile on her face, though, and once she’d regained her composure, waited patiently with spoon poised for his next instruction. The memory of her anticipatory grin had him smiling even now. At that moment she’d been the most riveting woman he’d ever seen, and he was baffled as to why. Why she’d pulled at him so much then—and even more so as he stood in the hall watching the top of the stairs.

It wasn’t that she was exceptionally beautiful, though he supposed he saw her as such now. If he had seen her for the first time in a crowded ballroom, he would certainly have noticed her unusual looks, but she wouldn’t have called to him like she did now. There was something about the knowledge that she was his, that he had the permission of God and man to look at her with appreciation, to hold her in his arms and kiss her each evening when he brought her home.

The fact that he was the only person who ever saw her this way left him feeling protective, special. By the time they reached their destination, a slipper would be smudged or a jewel knocked askew. He hadn’t quite figured out how she managed it when she always came down the stairs looking like utter perfection, but it never lasted beyond the carriage. He wondered sometimes if she even knew when she became disheveled. It didn’t stop her from doing anything.

As was becoming common, he saw the hem of her dress first as she descended the stairs. Gold satin slippers peeped out from beneath the white-and-gold gown. This one, too, was cut like a belted vest, with pearls lining the white dress beneath as well as the gold satin overdress and belt. The rest of her emerged as she slowly descended the steps, giving Trent time to admire her grace and form. Even when he moved back into the house, he was going to make a habit of waiting for her in the front hall. Watching her come down the steps was turning into one of his favorite moments of the day.

Until her face appeared.

Instead of her normal shy, welcoming smile, she wore an anxious frown. Obviously something about this evening’s plans didn’t thrill her.

“We don’t have to go.” Trent rushed forward to meet her at the bottom of the steps, taking her hands in his.

She clasped his fingers tightly enough to cause wrinkles in her white gloves. “Your mother—”

“Isn’t here.” Trent lifted a hand to Adelaide’s cheek. Whatever had caused the apprehensive look in her eyes, Trent wanted to vanquish it. If the world beyond the front door was causing her grief, he was more than happy to turn her around and escort her back up the stairs until it no longer bothered her. Anything to bring back the happy woman who’d gone to Gunter’s with him that afternoon.

How could he care this much about someone he hardly knew, someone he hadn’t bonded with, couldn’t tell what she was thinking with a single look? Every married couple he knew that was also in love had that. Georgina once said she heard her husband, Colin, in her head even when he wasn’t there. His relationship with Adelaide didn’t look anything like what Trent knew love to be, so why did it bother him so much that she wasn’t happy? “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“We should go.” She tilted her head into his hand with a soft, sad smile. “Everyone is expecting us.”

Trent bent his knees and ducked his head to look Adelaide in the eyes. They were still large, still a pure, clear blue, still framed by thick black lashes, but something was wrong. “Where are your spectacles?”

She held up her oversized reticule. “In here. Mother’s going to be there tonight, and she fusses when I wear them to balls.”

Trent frowned and wanted to hit something. All the work he’d done over the past few weeks—getting her to smile and talk and laugh with his friends and family—and her mother had broken it with the mere promise of her presence. He kept his touch gentle as he pulled the reticule from her wrist.

His mother would swat him with her fan if she saw him opening a woman’s reticule, but this was his wife, and these were extenuating circumstances.

The slim novel tucked in the bag made him smile as he dug around for her spectacles. He found them wrapped in a soft cloth and tucked into her spare pair of slippers. Georgina must have taught her that trick when she’d been here two days ago. After unwrapping the frames, he slid them carefully onto Adelaide’s face. He shifted his hands until his palms cupped her cheeks, his thumbs grazing right below the spectacle frames. As her eyes drifted shut he leaned down and brushed a light kiss across her lips. “Mother or no mother, I want you to be able to see when I dance with you.”

As she blinked up at him, her eyes adjusting to the lenses once more, he vowed that no matter what her life had been before, he was going to make her future one better. Starting tonight.