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“I am sure he would have been glad you approve of him,” he said with amused irritation.
“I have always wanted to learn the constellations.”
His father had taught him, only months before he had died. Edmond’s heart lurched. He had been about to thoughtlessly offer to help her.
“I’ve read Messier’s Catalogue, but I am still at loss on how to identify certain constellations.”
His father would have fallen in love with Edmond’s new duchess for the mere fact she had read Messier’s Catalogue.
“I have a telescope,” he heard himself offering.
A delighted gasp escaped her lips. “That is wonderful, you must teach me. You do know what to look for?”
How had it gotten to this stage? An hour later, Edmond found himself bemusedly seated by his duchess on the stone bench, the flask of whiskey empty, her cheeks flushed becomingly, soft sighs slipping from her at intervals as they watched the stars through the damn telescope he had quickly retrieved from his study. He was clueless as to what was happening, but he did like her company. He’d hardly had any time recently to simply sit and converse with anyone. There had been no discourse with females save for his mother and employees, in the last three years. He’d avoided the season, despising the thought of inane and pointless chatter. Yet he and his duchess did not partake in any rousing parliamentary arguments or discuss estate matters. They were simply wonderful, ordinary, everyday musings.
What did he think of heaven?
How had his father died? Edmond had told her, and when she offered her sympathy she had glowed with sincerity.
Did he know all the constellations?
Her favorites were Cassiopeia, Taurus, and Sagittarius.
She loved pies.
She hated needlework and playing the pianoforte.
He was also exceedingly handsome, which was also quite unfair.
He was annoying for not consummating their vows.
And Mr. James Atwood had been audacious enough to send her several letters begging for forgiveness and to resume their friendship.
Startlingly Edmond felt a surge of icy anger at that last revelation. “And what did you say to your Mr. Atwood?”
She cleared her throat. “Well he is not my Mr. Atwood anymore. But I did reassure him we are friends.” She glanced up and her beautiful eyes widened. “Upon my word, your countenance has taken on a decidedly diabolical cast.”
Amusement rushed through Edmond at her undisguised alarm. “Has it?”
She tapped her chin with a finger. “Hmm, I think, Your Grace, you did not appreciate me saying I would remain friends with Mr. Atwood. But I assure you, it will be a careful friendship at best. Although I find it outrageous the manner in which he abandoned me, I cannot hold malice in my heart.” Then her lips stretched. “I say, was it possible you were a tiny bit jealous?”
The notion so shocked him, he jerked. Jealous? “I do not feel such emotions.”
She rolled her eyes, and he was nonplussed. Adeline was nothing like any other young lady he had met before. She was different, but in the most refreshing way.
“I do confess I am a bit tipsy,” she said with a soft giggle and then exhaled on a gusty sigh. She turned her head to him, and in the depth of her eyes lurked laughter…and desire.
He gathered his scattered thoughts, assisted his giggling duchess to her feet, and guided her across the lawns and into the house. Maximus followed happily along, barking when she started singing. Edmond winced at the atrociously unmusical way she carried a tune, but strangely wanted her to continue. He was relieved to see the butler had not retired for the night, and when they crossed the threshold, Edmond swung Adeline into his arms and walked unhurriedly to the winding staircase. The butler’s face was carefully stoic when she oooohed about how strong Edmond was, poking at his arms. Their butler choked when she asked if he was just as hard all over.
Christ.
She smiled up at him, and something inside his chest twisted.
He liked the woman, for God’s sake.
A few minutes later they arrived at her chamber and he rang for her lady’s maid, who threw him a startled glance before ushering her singing mistress into the dressing room. Edmond exited, his heart beating in an uneven rhythm, and he wondered what the hell had just happened?
Chapter Sixteen
