Page 61 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
“I trust you are not too disappointed,” Rickard said with his trademark charming smile, a slight lilt to his words. “I know I was not immediately upfront with the reason behind my presence here, and I know, Sir, that it must have come as a shock.” He directed those words to Adam.
“Oh, call him Adam.” Emmeline took Rickard’s arm and practically dragged him to the spot beside Adam. “You must both learn how to get along. You are not so far apart in age, after all. And it’s an exciting thing to learn that your family is larger than you once believed it to be. I would be delighted if I discovered I had another sister.”
Adam fixed his attention on Rickard. There were such similarities between them, he noted now that they were standing closer to each other. “My wife is correct. I would like to get to know you very much.”
A smile spread across Rickard’s face. “I’m relieved to know that. You are the only family I know of in the world.”
Emmeline let out a sound of sympathy, but Adam merely nodded. He was in precisely the same boat. “Tell me something about you.”
“Everything I’ve told you so far about myself is true,” Rickard said with a nervous laugh. “I hail from Glasgow, as I’ve mentioned, and I grew up as an only child. I had a sister, my mother tells me, but she died when I was very young, and I don’t remember her.”
There was no sadness on his face—no real emotion at all. He was relating these facts as though they had happened to someone else.
“I was educated at Edinburgh, and I went to St. Andrew’s. My mother suggested I go to London, but that would have meant leaving her alone, as she had no desire to go.” He locked eyes with Adam. “She knew by then, I think, that our father had deceived her and your mother. She wanted nothing more to do with it.”
“This was six years ago?” Adam asked.
“Yes.”
“Then our father”—the words were strange in his mouth—“was already dead.”
“Precisely. There was nothing more for her to say, but I think to have encountered your mother, or even you, would have been painful for her.”
“My mother”—this was more painful to utter, but he knew he needed to be honest about everything—“was also dead by then.”
Rickard started as though surprised. “I’m sorry to hear it, Adam. Truly.”
Adam inclined his head in a stiff nod, but Emmeline was the one to lean forward, her chin resting on her hands as she looked between them, sympathy heavy in her eyes.
“You are so alike, for all you are so different,” she said. “Look at you both. Your mothers have perished, you share a father, and you are all the family each other has. Of course, you have your differences, but think of how much you share. Even when apart and ignorant of one another, your lives took a similar trajectory.”
“Not too similar,” Adam said, glancing at her.
Her eyes were soft in the candlelight, the gentle, beautiful lines in her face blurred by the flickering light. She did not need gilding, so beautiful was she already, but the candles did the job regardless.
“Oh, I forgot you left to join the Navy,” Emmeline said, nodding very slightly. “Yes, I suppose that is a difference between you.”
“I say,” Rickard said. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Not particularly,” Adam said shortly.
His time in the Navy had been extensive, and he had learned a lot, but it was a relief in many ways to be home and to resume what most would consider an ordinary life.
If only he hadn’t returned to find his brother gone and a new one in his place.
No, that was unfair—he could never compare Rickard with William. They were too different. For all Rickard had taken a risk in coming here, he had by and large proven himself to be a careful, somewhat timid man. William was the careless one, the risk-taker, the one who went out on a limb to do something because he thought it sounded fun.
That was one way in which William and Adam had differed. During their childhood, William had been the type to climb to the very edge of a branch for the thrill that being suspended might bring. Adam had stayed very much with his feet on the ground.
And William, amidst his cries that he was flying, that no one would ever know what superior joy he experienced at the top of the tree, also fell and broke his leg.
If anything, in temperament, Rickard was more like Adam, if Adam had been granted the patience to charm and smile and work to convince a room to like him. All too early, Adam had left Society to join the Navy, and there, charm was not a currency one could use for their advantage. Either one bought one’s way in, or one worked hard to move up the ranks. Adam had always chosen the latter, but perhaps if he had stayed in London, if he had not been suffering from guilt over his mother’s death, from anger at his father’s continued cruelty, he might have been a little more like Rickard.
“I have an idea,” Emmeline said, interrupting his reverie. Her chin was still on her hands as she looked between the two men and said, “I propose a picnic.”
ChapterEighteen
Adam had not been sure, initially, what to expect from Emmeline’s suggestion. He had never gone on a picnic before, at least not as long as memory served him, and as with most things in their marriage, Emmeline rarely did things the way he expected.
