Page 258 of Dukes for Dessert

He would have to respect her wishes.

“Ready,” he said with a sigh.

John nodded and swung the carriage door open.

Adam turned to Swinton. “Let’s go. I won’t be coming back.”

The barest flash of pain cut behind Swinton’s stoic eyes. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

Devil take it. Adam’s heart twisted as he stared back at his butler in belated realization. Swinton would do whatever he was told, even if it meant leaving the woman he cared about behind. The stubborn codger was loyal to a fault. Adam swallowed the tight lump in his throat.

“I can’t ruin both our lives.” He gestured at the open cottage door. “Stay.”

Swinton’s voice was stern. “I’ve looked after you since you were a child, Your Grace. I won’t stop now. If you go, we both go.”

They went.

16

Sleep was impossible. Staying awake wasn’t any better. Carole missed Adam, missed her sketchbook, and had missed the perfect chance to explain to him that the reason she’d said no wasn’t because she didn’t care about him, but because she did.

Would it have made any difference? Probably not. Thoughts of her would vanish the moment he was back in the beau monde, surrounded by aristocratic beauties who could offer endless things that Carole could not. She slumped atop her writing desk. No matter who he married, she would always be the first one to love him for who he was.

None of this had been a game. She couldn’t let him leave without a proper goodbye.

Leaving Judith to sleep in for another hour or two if she could, Carole ran out of her house without bothering with her hair or the wrinkled state of her day dress, and banged upon Adam’s door with the knocker.

And banged.

And banged.

It wasn’t until a sleepy-eyed young footman opened the door that she realized coming to call at nine o’clock in the morning after a party that had ended at dawn wasn’t exactly the best idea she’d ever had.

“Adam,” her mouth blurted. “Is His Grace awake?”

“I couldn’t say, Miss.” The footman stared back at her, his expression blank. “He isn’t here.”

Not… here?

“He went into town at this hour?” she asked in disbelief. “Where in the world would he—”

Not. Here.

“Gone?” She whispered to the footman.

He nodded. “I’m afraid so, miss. Left for London a couple hours ago.”

“When will he return?” She regretted the question as soon as it was out of her mouth. Of course the footman wouldn’t know the answer.

He shook his head. “Never, Miss. He took what he cared about, and said he wouldn’t be back.”

A blade of regret sliced through her, jagged and searing.

She’d always believed that the best thing about being a dedicated spinster was never risking the pain of loss. Not ending up like her father. But she did lose. Without even having the years of bliss first.

This was her fault. Not Adam leaving; they’d both always known it would come to that. But he didn’t have to leave so suddenly. With so many things unsaid between them.

“Miss?”

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