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“Yes?” she asked a bit too hopefully.
The door opened and a servant bustled in, bobbing a quick curtsy. If Adel’s memory served her correctly, this was Prudence.
“Good morning, Your Grace. Will you be wanting a bath and a breakfast tray?”
A quick glance at the clock on the mantel revealed that it was midmorning. Drat! She had never slept so late unless she had attended a ball the night before. It was tempting to hide in her room, and from Edmond, but she must learn to be in the presence of the wretched man. Last night had been a revelation.
“A bath would be wonderful, Prudence, but I will be going downstairs.”
The maid’s head bobbed as she disappeared into the adjoining bath chamber and the sound of running water echoed. Adel was pleased to note that Rosette Park had the most modern of plumbing, and no one was required to lug buckets of water up the winding stairs.
An hour later, dressed in a dark blue day gown with long sleeves, her hair caught in an elegant chignon, she was decidedly pleased with her appearance. There was another knock on the door and before she could respond, in came Edmond. She surged to her feet, moving away from the vanity to face him. His gaze caressed over her, and she felt the touch of his eyes on every dip and swell of her body like it was a physical touch. A blush heated her skin, and she tried her best to suppress how flustered she felt. Was he not aware of Prudence in the room to be staring at Adel with such shivering need?
Then he looked up, all traces of admiration dampened.
She strove not to appear disconcerted. “Yes, Your Grace?”
He arched a brow at her decidedly cool tone. “Have we reverted to being formal?”
Adel allowed a smile to touch her lips. “Not at all…Edmond.”
He flicked an autocratic glance at the maid and she hurried from the room with her eyes carefully cast down.
“I made a hash of things last night, and I’ve come to apologize.”
She blinked in slow surprise. “Thank you.”
“I’ve ordered the duchess’s chambers to be aired and cleaned for you to take residence.”
“I… Thank you, Edmond.” She did not need to understand why he had been so angry earlier to appreciate what he was now doing. He had locked up those chambers for years. She wished she could glean what had prompted him to act. Did this mean he wanted more than a vague attachment?
“I give you leave to decorate them as you please, as the rooms are yours. I only ask you to give away every single piece of furniture.”
Seeing his black scowl forming, she hurriedly thanked him, lest he thought she did not appreciate the effort he was making. “Certainly.”
“A monthly allowance of three hundred guineas has also been set aside for you as pin money. If you need it to be increased, you should inform me. My mother is eagerly awaiting your presence in the drawing room. She has some notion of refitting your wardrobe to be on standards of that of a duchess of the realm. A few modistes have already been summoned. Please send all dressmaker’s bills and those for decorating the house to me. ”
At her silence, the scowl that had been in retreat, came back full force. “Does that meet with your approval?”
“You are being very generous. I am at a loss as to what I will do with three hundred guineas monthly.”
“It is a minuscule amount, Adeline.”
Oh. She fought the blush. Her allowance from Papa had been a sovereign here and there, and Lady Margaret had thought he was overly generous.
Without much thought to her actions, she strolled over to Edmond, tipped and pressed a soft kiss to his cheeks. “I thank you for being considerate.”
He froze. “It is truly nothing,” he said gruffly.
She stepped back. “I assure you it is something. Not many lords would be so accommodating or kind.”
He arched an eyebrow skeptically. Without speaking he withdrew and with a shallow bow exited her chambers. The anxiety she had felt last night shifted, and soft hope stirred in her breast. It mattered not that he had not addressed consummating their vows. Surely, his approachable charm now must mean he was willing to try and make their unorthodox marriage work.
Chapter Fourteen
The meeting with Lady Harriet had gone splendidly, so much so that Adel was still in a daze. She had braced herself to be met with cold hauteur, because of her nonexistent connections and dowry, but the dowager duchess had been charming and welcoming.
Adel’s anxiety had fled, as the local dressmaker from the village arrived and they spent almost two hours admiring materials and patterns. She had not balked at the multitude of gowns that were ordered—morning dresses, day and traveling dresses, several ball gowns, corsets, petticoats, and assorted unmentionables. She knew full well how unpolished she was, having spent most of her life in Somerset. With the little she had brought to her marriage, she wanted to appear to be a duchess Wolverton would be proud of, a mother their daughters and future children, if he ever unbent, would want to emulate.
