Adrian compressed his lips. Apart from the Black Widow, he had never heard his mother spoken of in terms of affection.
The unexpected kindness in Lady Asquith’s tone both touched and confused him.
He had the sensation he was standing on a precipice he didn’t understand and couldn’t see. He’d no doubt Lady Asquith was trying to communicate something to him, but he couldn’t fathom her aim.
“Poppy wassounhappy. As was your mother before she left for the continent. Poppy always looked forward to letters from Olivia. They exchanged letters throughout their lives, you know.”
That made him turn.
After the crim. con. case and his parents’ subsequent divorce, his mother, as far as he knew, had only ever exchanged letters with Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
“The letters stopped, though, about a year before Poppy’s death. That would have been, let’s see, three years ago?”
He swallowed. “I did not keep in touch with my mother.”
Lady Asquith held his gaze. “Didn’t you?”
“No,” he said.
Lady Asquith sighed. “You were the apple of Olivia’s eye, at least until Emily was born. Although Poppy said Olivia eventually found some happiness, I never forgave your father for separating mother from daughter.”
And that hadn’t been the worst of his father’s sins. If Lady Asquith only knew…
Dissonant, the light-spirited music chimed from the pianoforte. The itch he’d been startled into ignoring again grew insistent.
“If you pardon, Lady Asquith. I…” He’d no explanation for his sudden need to be gone from the conversation…from the very house. “If you’ll excuse me…” He turned around and headed blindly for the door.
His heels made a satisfying clacking noise against the marble of the passageway. The temporary relief evaporated as entered the main hall with its myriad of mirrors in every direction.
In himself, he saw his father. In his mind’s eye, his mother—not haranguing his father, but weeping.
Although Poppy said Olivia eventually found some happiness…
He quickened his step, but his escape was arrested by the door opening.
The afternoon sun silhouetted two figures standing on the threshold—a man and a woman. The woman stepped forward into focus, her hair of darkest chestnut.
Just like the Blackbird’s…
He frowned at the outlandishness of his own imagination.
What a ridiculous thought!
A mere coincidence, that Eliza and the Blackbird shared the same rich shade of hair…
After having removed his hat, the man came into the house as well. At once, he recognized Mr. Vane.
Although Vane had been attempting to deepen their acquaintance since they’d first been introduced, Adrian had never truly studied him. Now, he noticed Mr. Vane had pale, blond hair and vibrantly blue eyes.
A sense of cold recognition seized Adrian.
“Lord Redver.” Mr. Vane bowed. “I’m delighted to see you.”
Adrian continued to stare. Vane had always been irritatingly ingratiating. Too encroaching.
Perhaps that was why Adrian had never noticed such a familiar blond. Or perhaps he’d never noticed because most of the times he’d seen the man had been in the dark confines of the Lyon’s Den?
Adrian gaze moved again to the man’s eyes—yes, a deep, cornflower blue—before moving on to the man’s nose and then to the cleft in his chin.
