hadn’t seen her so animated in the three-plus weeks she’d been at Falstone. Harry had occasionally brought a twinkle to her eyes. But she seemed to have come alive under Hewitt’s influence.
Adam didn’t like it at all.
“Both boys are on the Triumphant, ” Persephone said to Hewitt.
“Both together?”
“My grandfather called in a few favors, I believe,” Persephone said. “Linus was so young when they left. We all felt better knowing Evander would be with him.”
“I doubt Evander was much older.”
Persephone shook her head. “He was twelve.”
“A little young to be starting in the navy,” Hewitt acknowledged.
“Far too young for my comfort.” For the first time, Adam heard worry in her tone. She’d spoken of her brothers before, but never with such feeling. Why had Hewitt inspired such confessions when he, her husband, received little more than a laundry list of information about her life and family?
Because that is the way it should be, Adam reminded himself. He begged confidences from no one.
“They are in the Atlantic, then?”
Persephone nodded. “Not far from Spain, last I heard.”
“There is a great deal of activity in that part of the world just now.”
“Do not remind me,” Persephone said. “I worry over them almost constantly.”
“Each has the other to look after him, though.” Hewitt offered an understanding smile. “And, if my understanding of our naval men is accurate, they will find a great deal of loyalty in their shipmates as well.”
“Yes, thank you.” Persephone returned his smile. “That does put my mind a little at ease.”
Hewitt’s smile grew, until his eyes met Adam’s, and then the smile disappeared in an instant.
That was much better.
* * *
Hewitt had been at Falstone for three days, and Adam was only refraining from strangling the man by sheer willpower. He sniveled and slumped when taken one-on-one but regained his equilibrium in Persephone’s presence. Adam watched for any signs of infatuation but found none on either side, which was extremely fortunate for Hewitt. Else he would quickly find that not all the rumors about the Duke of Kielder were exaggerations.
Despite theirs being only a budding friendship, Persephone’s and Hewitt’s ease with one another did not sit well with Adam because, he told himself, it would be impossible to get Hewitt to resent Persephone’s presence if he liked her so very much. Hewitt was supposed to see her as a threat, as the one person who could prevent his obtaining his inheritance. Then, when Hewitt was at his most dejected, Adam could throw him out, content in the knowledge that Hewitt would never return.
Adam had taken pains to sit beside Persephone at every opportunity in Hewitt’s presence. He was finding it was not much of a chore. She would occasionally produce one of her magnificent smiles, or she would laugh with real enjoyment, and Adam found himself very nearly smiling in response.
Adam grew more adept at maneuvering their relative positions so his unmarred side was exposed to his picturesque bride.
It did occur to Adam on one or two occasions to wonder at his insistence at keeping his scars from her. He hadn’t hidden them since his childhood. He had decided then not to allow his deformities to cow him, to not let others use his pain as a weapon. But from the moment he’d seen Persephone in Falstone Chapel, he’d been unwilling—practically unable— to give her the opportunity to be disgusted by him. And she hadn’t been. Yet.
Hewitt hadn’t choked on his port at dinner, Adam noticed as they walked to the drawing room on the third night of Hewitt’s sojourn. At least he had improved in that respect. He had, however, quickly backed out of the sitting room that afternoon when Adam had pulled out his dueling pistols. He’d only intended to clean them. Coward, Adam remembered with a smile.
Stepping through the drawing room doors, Adam’s eyes automatically sought out Persephone.
Adam didn’t like it at all.
“Both boys are on the Triumphant, ” Persephone said to Hewitt.
“Both together?”
“My grandfather called in a few favors, I believe,” Persephone said. “Linus was so young when they left. We all felt better knowing Evander would be with him.”
“I doubt Evander was much older.”
Persephone shook her head. “He was twelve.”
“A little young to be starting in the navy,” Hewitt acknowledged.
“Far too young for my comfort.” For the first time, Adam heard worry in her tone. She’d spoken of her brothers before, but never with such feeling. Why had Hewitt inspired such confessions when he, her husband, received little more than a laundry list of information about her life and family?
Because that is the way it should be, Adam reminded himself. He begged confidences from no one.
“They are in the Atlantic, then?”
Persephone nodded. “Not far from Spain, last I heard.”
“There is a great deal of activity in that part of the world just now.”
“Do not remind me,” Persephone said. “I worry over them almost constantly.”
“Each has the other to look after him, though.” Hewitt offered an understanding smile. “And, if my understanding of our naval men is accurate, they will find a great deal of loyalty in their shipmates as well.”
“Yes, thank you.” Persephone returned his smile. “That does put my mind a little at ease.”
Hewitt’s smile grew, until his eyes met Adam’s, and then the smile disappeared in an instant.
That was much better.
* * *
Hewitt had been at Falstone for three days, and Adam was only refraining from strangling the man by sheer willpower. He sniveled and slumped when taken one-on-one but regained his equilibrium in Persephone’s presence. Adam watched for any signs of infatuation but found none on either side, which was extremely fortunate for Hewitt. Else he would quickly find that not all the rumors about the Duke of Kielder were exaggerations.
Despite theirs being only a budding friendship, Persephone’s and Hewitt’s ease with one another did not sit well with Adam because, he told himself, it would be impossible to get Hewitt to resent Persephone’s presence if he liked her so very much. Hewitt was supposed to see her as a threat, as the one person who could prevent his obtaining his inheritance. Then, when Hewitt was at his most dejected, Adam could throw him out, content in the knowledge that Hewitt would never return.
Adam had taken pains to sit beside Persephone at every opportunity in Hewitt’s presence. He was finding it was not much of a chore. She would occasionally produce one of her magnificent smiles, or she would laugh with real enjoyment, and Adam found himself very nearly smiling in response.
Adam grew more adept at maneuvering their relative positions so his unmarred side was exposed to his picturesque bride.
It did occur to Adam on one or two occasions to wonder at his insistence at keeping his scars from her. He hadn’t hidden them since his childhood. He had decided then not to allow his deformities to cow him, to not let others use his pain as a weapon. But from the moment he’d seen Persephone in Falstone Chapel, he’d been unwilling—practically unable— to give her the opportunity to be disgusted by him. And she hadn’t been. Yet.
Hewitt hadn’t choked on his port at dinner, Adam noticed as they walked to the drawing room on the third night of Hewitt’s sojourn. At least he had improved in that respect. He had, however, quickly backed out of the sitting room that afternoon when Adam had pulled out his dueling pistols. He’d only intended to clean them. Coward, Adam remembered with a smile.
Stepping through the drawing room doors, Adam’s eyes automatically sought out Persephone.
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