Page 70 of How Not to Marry a Duke

They were led around the side of the house and into a yard. Armen and his friends were musicians, and Adeline could hear the music before she stepped through the garden gate. One played the dumbek, a small drum held under the arm, and another played the duduk, a deep-toned double reed instrument made from apricot wood. A third strung an oud, a pear-shaped, short-necked string instrument.

More than a dozen people had gathered; many had been friends of Adeline’s mother. Hasmik immediately joined a group of women and began speaking Arabic. In the corner, a man grilled skewers of lamb shish kebab over coals, and the delicious smell wafted to Adeline and made her mouth water. As the musicians played, a group of men and women held hands for line dancing. They circled in the yard, kicking their feet to a choreographed rhythm, their laughter echoing off the garden’s stone wall.

Memories returned to Adeline in a rush. She’d visited here with her mother when her father was away. These are your people, too, Adeline, her mother would say.

Warm. Welcoming. Without airs. They didn’t reside in lavish townhomes with servants or attend glittering balls dressed in fancy gowns. But they were just as thriving and happy. Many even more so.

As Adeline joined the dance, she wondered what Warwick would think. He was a duke, but he had no apparent qualms about spending an afternoon with scientists and intellectuals without titles. What would he think about these people?

His world was different, but so was he. Would he be accepting or awkward and uncomfortable? And why did it matter?

Born of an aristocratic father and a Middle Eastern mother, she straddled two worlds. She wondered where she fit in herself.

The dance ended and Adeline walked away.

“Smile, Adeline.” Hasmik materialized by her side. “Are you not happy? Or are you thinking of the duke?”

“Why would you think he is on my mind?”

“Because I know you better than anyone, and you have a dreamy, faraway look on your face lately.”

“Dreamy! I do not look dreamy,” she protested.

“If you say so.” Hasmik’s dark eyes watched her.

Adeline raised her chin. “Let us speak of other things.”

“Fine with me. You should know that people have asked if you can help them with their ailments. Many cannot pay for the English doctors.”

As Adeline scanned the group, their discussion of the duke was immediately forgotten. “Of course. Spread the word that I will do all I can.”

Hasmik nodded. “One woman in particular is asking to speak with you now. I had to look twice, but you wouldn’t believe who it is.”

“Who?” Adeline scanned the crowd.

“Lady Drake.”

Adeline swung around to see the earl’s wife sitting at a table chatting with a group of women. Adeline hadn’t even noticed her among the other dark-haired women. It wasn’t the first time she’d forgotten they had a common background. Ana’s father had been a collector of Middle Eastern antiquities, and, like Adeline, her mother hadn’t been English.

Lady Drake rubbed her swollen abdomen as Adeline sat beside her. “Hello, Adeline. Is everything they say about you and Warwick true?”

Adeline wasn’t sure how to explain her relationship with Warwick to her, and she spoke the first thing that came to mind. “We are friends. Have you heard something different?”

The lady flashed a smile. “My maid is obsessed with the gossip rags.”

Adeline rolled her eyes. “Do not believe all you read.”

“Some say the duke is eccentric, but he is a good man. Warwick admires you. That alone is telling. The duke is particular.”

If Warwick admired her, it was because of her healing knowledge, not as a woman.

“The babe is almost due. I do not trust English doctors. Will you come for the birth if I send word?”

“I’d be happy to.”

Lady Drake’s eyes widened. “The babe is kicking. Do you want to feel?” Not waiting for an answer, she grasped Adeline’s hand and placed it on her abdomen. Sure enough, Adeline felt a ripple of movement.

Pure joy crossed the Lady Drake’s face. “Lord Drake believes it’s a girl. I want a boy.”