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"Yes. I slept. I have not slept like that since—" He broke off, unsure how to finish.

Adelaide's voice was gentle. "Since Thomas?"

He nodded. It was the first time he had said his brother's name without feeling as though it would kill him.

"Adelaide, will you tell me another story tonight?"

She blinked, surprised. "If you wish."

"I wish it very much."

She smiled, and the light in the room seemed to double.

A sharp rap sounded at the door. Mr. Danvers entered, impeccable in his morning livery.

"Forgive the interruption. There is a caller, Your Graces."

Julian looked at the clock. "At this hour?"

"Yes, sir. The caller is in the foyer."

He exchanged a look with Adelaide. "Who is it, Danvers?"

The butler hesitated, then delivered the news as if it weighed more than gold.

"Lady Helena Hawthorne has returned."

CHAPTER 29

Julian's chair scraped sharply against the floorboards, the force of it snapping Adelaide's focus from her untouched toast. In a single, fluid motion, he rose and strode from the breakfast room, his back ramrod straight and every hint of morning warmth vanished from his face. The door banged behind him. The silverware on the table rattled.

Adelaide stared after him, the echo still ringing in her ears. She set her napkin aside, smoothed her palms over her skirt, and followed.

In the grand foyer, the light fell in dusty shafts across the marble floor. Lady Helena Hawthorne stood near the center, a single valise at her feet and her posture unguarded in a way that made her look both younger and impossibly old. She had a scar along her left hand—Adelaide saw it at once—a tiny line across the thumb, likely a childhood accident, but the kind of thing you remembered if you cared enough to look.

Julian stopped at the threshold. The rigid mask he wore was perfect. He did not approach, nor did he move to speak.

Helena surveyed the entrance hall with a dry, appraising glance, her eyes running over the ornate cornices and the heavy, outdated draperies that blocked half the window's light. She wore a half-smile, affectionate and exhausted.

"In all these years," she said, her voice catching slightly at the edge, "you never did replace the draperies. Or redecorate. Father would have called it a disgrace to the title."

Julian's jaw worked, but he said nothing.

Helena did not seem to mind the silence. She turned to Adelaide, her expression shifting into something gentler. "You must be Adelaide. I am Helena Hawthorne."

Adelaide stepped forward, her hands folded at her waist, looking every inch the duchess. "I am delighted to meet you, Lady Helena. Welcome home."

A muscle in Julian's jaw twitched.

Helena's smile went crooked. "I suppose it is still home, even after so many years." She turned her gaze back to her brother, measuring him. "Are you going to greet me properly, Julian? Or should I address you as His Grace now, like the rest of the world?"

"What are you doing here?" The question was cold, flat, and utterly without welcome.

Helena's smile dimmed, but she held her ground. "I returned to see you."

Julian's face was stone. "Why."

"Because you are my brother." Helena let out a small, incredulous laugh. "Because thirteen years is long enough to sulk. Because I read the announcement in the Times and realized my little brother had finally married, and I wanted to see the miracle for myself." She nodded at Adelaide, her eyes shining with something that might have been gratitude. "I wrote to your wife, and she replied with more generosity than I deserved. I could not pass up the chance to see my brother again, even if he no longer wished for it."