Page 59

Adelaide settled deeper into the sofa cushions as the butler bowed and withdrew, closing the drawing-room doors with a soft click. The volume in her lap remained unopened. She had fetched it from the library an hour earlier with every intention of reading, yet the brilliant full moon hanging above the formal garden held her attention instead.

It illuminated the grounds in pale silver, casting the manicured hedgerows and ancient oak into sharp relief against the night sky. The glass panes of the conservatory caught the moonlight, reflecting it in fractured beams. She sat observing the view, her fingers resting upon the leather binding, her thoughts far removed from botanical taxonomy or the uncataloged specimens awaiting her attention.

Her mind rested entirely upon Julian.

The heavy front door opened, and low voices drifted from the foyer—a footman's brief response followed by the firm tread of riding boots against the marble floor.

Adelaide sat upright, her fingers smoothing the cover of her book.

The drawing-room door opened.

Julian stepped across the threshold, and the immediate warmth of his smile caused the tightness in her chest to dissolve. The fine lines around his eyes deepened with genuine pleasure as he looked at her.

A quiet comfort settled over her, easing the lingering tension in her shoulders.

"You remain awake," he observed softly.

"I do."

He removed his dark evening coat, draping it over the back of an armchair. Standing in his waistcoat and crisp linen shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbow, Adelaide noted the quiet strength of his arms with an unexpected awareness.

Crossing the room, he settled into the armchair opposite her sofa. "Were you waiting up for my return?"

Adelaide offered a soft chuckle. "I was merely admiring the moonlit garden."

Julian looked past her toward the high window where moonlight stretched across the carpet in a wide, pale band. He studied the view for a moment before rising from the armchair and sitting beside her on the sofa.

The velvet cushions yielded beneath his weight, bringing his proximity close enough that she could feel the faint heat radiating through his linen shirt. The familiar scents of cedar, fresh air, and soap drifted toward her.

A comfortable quiet settled between them, requiring no immediate words.

"How was your day?" she asked gently.

"Contentious," Julian admitted, shifting against the cushions. "I spent the afternoon at the House of Lords."

"Debating the Corn Importation Bill?"

"You are remarkably well informed."

"I read the daily journals," she replied. "The debate has been vigorous for weeks."

"Vigorous remains a mild description." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Half the peers are convinced the tariff will preserve English agriculture, while the other half insist it will impoverish the working class. A small, vocal third faction believes the entire matter lies beneath their concern because it fails to affect the quality of their port."

Adelaide laughed softly. "I was unaware of a third faction."

"There is invariably a third faction; they vote last and drink first."

"That sounds remarkably cynical."

"It remains remarkably accurate. Lord Pembroke fell asleep twice during the proceedings, and I suspect Sir Aldous was foxed before the second reading."

"You are surely exaggerating."

"I am not; I possess witnesses to the fact."

Adelaide shook her head, her smile lingering. "And what did the Duke of Ravensmere contribute to this distinguished debate?"

"I cast my vote, delivered my arguments, and was outmaneuvered twice by Lord Grenville, who has been outmaneuvering men since before my birth," he paused, a faint smile touching his lips. "I also corrected Lord Ashby on a point of parliamentary procedure, which he received with small gratitude."