Page 98 of How Not to Marry a Duke

“Your Grace!”

At the sight of her standing at the foot of his home, his brow furrowed and he hurried to her side. “Adeline. You are a sight for sore eyes. Is something wrong?”

“I saw your coach and came.” She sounded foolish and she felt her face flush and her stomach drop. All her recent efforts to live her life without him had vanished as soon as she’d spotted his coach. Clearly, she had no willpower around the man.

“I’m glad you are here. I planned to visit your cottage straightway.”

“You did?”

“Of course. Tell me what you have been up to.”

Her words came out in a rush. Her relief that he had planned to visit her made her giddy. “Hasmik and I have had help with some of the cottage repairs. Do you remember the man whose thigh I stitched? He arrived with farmers and the roof has been repaired. It no longer leaks during heavy rain.” She was babbling but couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“Good. I’m glad to hear you have had help. It’s also good to see you.”

“I wasn’t certain you would return.”

“Why? My work on the high-pressure steam engine isn’t complete. You told me to wait a week, and that was my plan, but then one of my stewards showed up in London and multiple ledgers needed overseeing.”

“Your engine.” A second coach had arrived and parked behind his. No doubt the engine was loaded inside. In her eagerness to see him, she hadn’t even noticed it. Her voice sounded hollow to her ears. Was a greasy engine the main reason he was in Chilham? Or was it because he wanted to see her?

“I’d like to see for myself the progress you’ve made on the cottage,” he said.

“Why?” Now she sounded like a petulant child.

“Because I want to know how I can help.”

Her mind raced while her stomach tied itself into knots. “You want to help?”

He flashed a perfect smile. “Why not? I’m mechanical, and certainly capable of fixing a loose floorboard or two.”

…

She was a sight for sore eyes. For as long as he lived, he’d remember Adeline’s face when he’d stepped out of the coach. Her blue eyes had widened, and her full lips had curled in a welcoming smile. God, he’d missed her. He hadn’t realized how exciting London could be with her by his side. Everything was brighter, more entertaining, more enjoyable—the park, Gunther’s, the bookshop, even his intellectual meetings. She had a sparkling intelligence that matched his own and conversing with her was never boring. Rather it was scintillating. Even now, standing outside his home with two of his coachmen present, the desire to taste her, to touch his lips to hers, washed everything else from his mind.

A week apart had felt like a month…longer.

His meeting with the blackguard Slade hadn’t improved his mood in Town. Warwick had a mind to challenge Adeline’s half brother to a duel for the mere suggestion that he offer Adeline to the moneylender.

After she’d left for her home, he’d strode into his study. He’d told Adeline the truth about wanting to help her with her cottage improvements. Her goals were admirable, and her happiness paramount. His work was important. He’d always believed it to be true. But then he’d seen what she could do, first when she’d stitched the gruesome wound of a country carpenter, then when she’d saved Lady Drake’s life and that of the babe. The high-pressure steam engine that awaited him seemed to be of less importance now.

He glanced at the tools he’d left behind, many scattered across the workbenches in his study. “Nelson!” he bellowed.

Nelson appeared in the doorway. “Your Grace?”

“I need a small chest to carry tools.”

“To carry your tools? What for?”

“To help Lady Adeline. She has a loose banister.”

Nelson looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Shall I call for the village carpenter?”

“No. I’m going to do the repairs myself.”

“You Grace? What of your work here?”

“It can wait.”