mouthful of wine. When he cleared his throat, Adrian got the message. For Miranda’s part, the only reaction to his rude words was a slight fluttering of her eyelashes and her refusal to meet his gaze.
Any response was interrupted by the arrival of the next course. Plates of roast venison and leg of lamb were placed on the table, as well as boiled turnips and sauces for all the dishes. Adrian took up the carving knife and cut slices of the meats for each of them. At Parker’s glare, he added a few to his plate. It was as he cut into his own food that Miranda answered his question.
“I have felt a bit overwhelmed by the demands of the Season, Windmere. I thought a short respite to the country might do me well.”
“Overwhelmed by the dowager’s demands, more likely,” Parker interrupted. Pointing at her with his fork, he continued, “And now that she is sponsoring that chit in her first season, I would guess she’s dragging you from one end of town to the other.”
“That chit? What do you know of my mother’s social activities?” Adrian felt the odd man out in this discussion.
“She cornered me ever so politely at Lord Hanson’s soiree and made it clear that as your friend and close associate, I had a duty to help bring out the chit—excuse me, Miss Stevenson.”
“And your reply?” Adrian asked. It wasn’t often that someone got the better of Parker. Of course, his mother was, candidly, quite formidable when she desired to be so. And she’d made no secret of her desire for a successful launching of her goddaughter into polite society.
Parker blinked several times and frowned at him. “What do you think I told Her Grace? I agreed, of course.”
Not to be deterred from his original question, Adrian turned back to Miranda. “Are you well?”
A hint of a blush tinged her cheeks and the corners of her mouth rose in a slight smile as though she was intrigued at some private thought. Then she met his gaze and shook her head. “I am well, Windmere. It is just that your mention of the country reminded me that, at times, I find it so much less tiring than the tedium and closeness of town.”
Adrian winced at the formality of her address. He sensed that the one expressed was not her only answer. But, in company, even just Parker, he decided he would not press her for more. To articulate more concern than necessary would make her presence into an issue. And it would make it seem more important than the inconvenience it was. It was a simple case of not having the solitude he’d anticipated when he’d journeyed north.
He turned back to his food and silence filled the room, interrupted by Parker’s occasional chomping noises. How had the man made his way in polite company? A few minutes later, filled from the hearty and flavorful food, Adrian pushed back and suggested that they proceed to the billiard room. Although Parker looked as though he would argue, he swallowed the mouthful of food he had just forked in and nodded.
Chapter Five
Miranda had looked away as she finished her words, not wanting to allow her lack of candor to show. Luckily, her husband seemed to give up on his chase for ulterior motives at her appearance here. At least, he had for now. Finished with her food, she dabbed at her mouth and laid the napkin on the table. She rose as the footman held her chair, and walked behind Adrian to the masculine sanctuary he favored so much when here at Windmere House. She wondered if he knew that billiards was a favorite of hers and that she played frequently…when he was not present.
She took a seat near the fireplace and watched as her husband and his friend chose their weapons from the rack of billiard sticks. They exchanged typical boasts about the upcoming game and even placed bets on the outcome. Tea arrived and she sipped hers as the even match went on.
“Would you be completely offended if we removed our jackets, madam?” Parker asked some minutes later. “I know it’s terribly informal, but…” His words drifted off and he smiled that infectious smile of his as his hair fell into his eyes once more. He tossed his head to shake it back into place.
“I am certain that my constitution and sensibilities can withstand such an informality, sir. Only as long as we are in the country, of course.”
“I told you she would be game, Windmere. Now nothing, not even too tight a fit, will stop me from defeating you,” Parker boasted, as he shrugged his jacket off and tossed it on a nearby chair.
As she watched, her husband removed his, too, but instead of carelessly throwing his, he folded it and laid it over the back of a chair. Without their jackets, it was an easy thing to compare them. Both men were tall, with Parker having several inches over her husband. Both were muscular, but Adrian’s build was a leaner one than his friend’s. She could well understand that after seeing how much food Parker ate in a given day! In coloring they were opposites, with Adrian being the dark-haired one and Parker the blond Adonis.
After spending four days on the road with him, Miranda decided Parker definitely reminded her of the Adrian she’d known early in their marriage. An irreverent sense of humor pervaded his personality and behavior, but at the heart of it was a man of honor and caring. Drinking the now slightly warm tea, she wondered when Adrian had changed. She placed her cup back on the side table as she thought about it.
Not in the year they’d spent engaged to be married and not in the first year of their marriage, either. He was still the same outgoing man even during the terrible time of his brother’s death and their year of mourning. It was after they’d put away the colors of official grief that something changed deep within him.
Instead of resisting the dowager’s every command and directive, Adrian accepted them. Instead of plotting his own course for the dukedom he’d inherited, he followed the one left by his father and brother before him. Instead of the affectionate relationship he and Miranda had had, he began to distance himself from her, insisting that his mother’s ideas of the proper way to do things were what he wanted for them.
Pulling herself back from her woolgathering, Miranda watched as the match drew closer. Startled as he laughed out loud at some whispered threat from Parker, and pushed him away to the other side of the table, she enjoyed the moment of camaraderie between the two of them. Not accustomed to seeing him so, she wondered why he hid it from her.
Why did he not let down his guard with her as he did with his friend? Was she the only one from whom he’d withdrawn this side of himself? Did he share this with his mistress?
Laughing.
Spontaneous.
Playful.
Caring.
Attractive.
Miranda’s stomach roiled as the uncontrolled thoughts forced themselves forward. This kind of introspection did no good and now she felt truly sick as images of her husband and his paramour flashed fleetingly through her mind. She knew what the woman looked like—someone who disdained Miranda for her humble origins and had wanted to embarrass her had pointed out Mrs. Robinson in the park one day. She’d passed the woman by without any acknowledgment, of course, but she’d seen her clearly.
“Call for her maid, if you please.” Her husband’s voice broke into her reverie. Blinking to clear the now-gathering tears from her eyes, she saw that their game had stopped and they were both watching her.
“You see, Parker. It is as I suspected. The duchess is not well.” Adrian approached and crouched down before her. “Her complexion is now turning green.”
Parker rang for the footman, who was sent off for Fisk. Then he walked closer, squinting as he leaned down to her. “Was it the soup, do you think? Something spoiled at dinner?”
Miranda took a deep breath and shook her head. “I think that I am simply overtired from traveling. If you will excuse me,” she said as she stood, or tried to, for her legs would not hold her up. Pausing for a moment and allowing Adrian to offer her his arm in support, she took in another deep breath and felt her head clear a bit. “I will seek my chambers and recover more thoroughly from the journey.”
Parker