Distraction. Is that all women are to you?
He heard the Blackbird’s accusation as if the woman was, right now, riding along beside them. He shrugged involuntarily, shifted in his saddle, and then cracked his neck.
“Is something the matter?” Harbury asked.
“No,” he replied curtly.
Harbury continued to stare.
“If you must know, I’m tired.”
“You wouldn’t be if you’d have come with me to Almack’s,” Harbury resumed his grumbling. “If you’d have come with me to Almack’s, none of this would have happened.”
“I cannot always be present to steer you away from a possible run in with Vivi—”
“Don’t,” Harbury interrupted, “say her name.” He looked pointedly ahead. “You were right. Best if I put her out of my mind for the duration.”
“I’m impressed you remember.”
Harbury fixed him with a longsuffering expression.
“You could also take this opportunity to—” Adrian stopped himself before unconsciously repeating the plea Bessie had made to him the night before.Take this opportunity to heal, she’d said.
“To what? Get myself leg shackled? To a chit I can hardly remember?”
Adrian ignored Harbury, reflecting instead on Bessie’s suggestion.
Could mental wounds heal?
Could a past wound be sown up just like a bayonet wound? Sown up, and allowed to slowly scab, eventually leaving only residual numbness and the faint line of a scar?
While the crim. con. case had brought to light many of his mother’s indiscretions, the worst thing his father had done remained a dark, family secret.
Adrian had only been six at the time, but, even then, he’d known right from wrong.
What had happened haunted him until this day. His father had done the worst of wrongs, all in the name of preserving the D’Acre succession.
A white haze settled over his vision.
“Adrian.”
A burning sensation knifed along his thigh.
“Adrian!”
His horse sidestepped, jostling him back to the present. He shook his head, retook the reins in his right hand, and then discreetly pressed against his thigh, certain he’d unconsciously scratched hard enough to open the wound.
“Are you certain you are well?” Harbury’s face had become a mask of concern.
Adrian cleared his throat. “Fine.”
“Don’t lie. It’s me, isn’t it? I’m being a wretch.”
Adrian’s gaze softened. “No more than usual.”
Harburyhumphed. “Must do better, be better.Must.”
Adrian inhaled slowly, tuning his ear to the sounds around him.
