Page 8 of The Earl Next Door
He was a beast. Except he wasn’t.
For three days Adeline had stewed about her neighbor. Well, some of that time she’d simmered and a time or two she’d sizzled. But no matter when or how she’d thought about the man, heat was always involved.
Which was ridiculous. What kind of gentleman simply assumed the worst about a neighbor he’d never met and barged into their home? And, it had taken him far too long to tell her who he was and express his regret for thinking her the madam of a secret brothel. Even then she had her doubts whether it was a sincere apology.
She would never forget how he boldly took in every detail of her face as if taking a thorough inventory of something valuable before letting his gaze skim downher neck, across her breasts, and over her bare shoulders. Remembering it now, her breaths deepened. She’d never seen any man peruse her so openly and show such real, unadulterated appreciation of her beauty in his expression. A thrill of something akin to desire had raced through her.
It was unexpected and heady.
She was horrified that she’d slapped the earl. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He did. Invading the privacy of her drawing room. No matter that he thought he had good reason. Assuming she was… well. Suggesting he would like to… But neither of those things had disturbed her nearly as much as the fact that she’d thought about kissing him. That was where her true anger lay.
With herself.
How could she have even considered the possibility of his lips on hers? And why wouldn’t thoughts of him go away and leave her in peace as had every other man she’d seen and had discussions with since becoming a widow?
At night Lyonwood plundered her dreams. Every morning she’d sworn she wasn’t going to think about the dastardly earl anymore, and every day she’d failed.
Today would be different, she promised herself. She had reason to celebrate and be joyous with much more important and wonderful matters to occupy her mind than a brazen rogue. Except for a few minor details yet to be settled by their solicitor, Mr. Clements, everything about the school had been properly negotiated and signed. Even though she and her friends were now freer to carry out their own choices concerning everyaspect of their lives than when they were married, it was still almost impossible for a lady to make her own business decisions without the aid of a male to negotiate for her. Thankfully, Mr. Clements was a young, forward-thinking man who’d allowed them to lead the way in how they wanted the school organized and managed.
The girls had arrived yesterday, and Julia and Brina would be joining her soon. The three of them were going over to the school together to welcome everyone.
Adeline stood in the small portion of her back garden that separated her house from the plain, white, three-story building that used to be a servants’ quarters. It had been quietly transformed into The Seafarer’s School for Girls. The name hadn’t been her choice, but now that she saw it written in small simple lettering posted over the entrance, she knew it was the right one. At first, Adeline thought it carried too many sad memories of the people lost in the sinking of theSalty Dove. Now, looking at the name, she saw it more as an honor to all the sailors and workers who went down with the ship. It showed how something good was coming from an event that had been so devastatingly horrific for so many.
She could have waited inside for her friends to arrive, but she was anxious to be out in the morning sunshine and underneath a rare flawless blue sky so early in the spring. There was something comforting and satisfying about it warming her shoulders and the back of her neck while the chilly air cooled her cheeks. Italways gave her an inspiring feeling of renewal to see the trees and bushes budding with tiny bits of green after the last vestige of winter days had passed.
An errant wind fluttered across Adeline’s face, causing a few strands of hair to find freedom from the side of her wool-covered bonnet and tickle the side of her face. She continued to stare at the school sign and slowly, unbidden and unwelcomed, Adeline’s thoughts started clouding with memories of how the idea for the school took shape. It was as if her mind had been a void waiting to be filled with recollections that suddenly wouldn’t be shut out.
She wasn’t in London when news arrived that theSalty Dovehad broken apart and gone down off the coast of Portugal in a ferocious storm that took the lives of almost everyone on board.
When Adeline heard her husband wasn’t among the few survivors, she was where she’d spent most of her married life, at Wake’s country estate in Sussex. She left for London immediately and took up residence in their Town house, which she realized had, in the blink of an eye, become her brother-in-law’s—the new Earl of Wake’s—house.
Over the next few weeks, he had gone about doing the things that were necessary for him to officially assume her husband’s title and possession of all its entailed properties. Adeline had begun to heal her body and spirit. The new earl and his wife were kind, insisting she stay with them during her mourning—the mourning that only she knew never took on the deep sorrow a wife should feel. She couldn’t find a place inher heart for that, but she understood and respected his family, friends, and others grieving over his loss. That was all she could do.
It was months after the ship sank that Adeline’s new, freer life truly began. She’d renewed her acquaintance with Lady Kitson Fairbright and met Mrs. Brina Feld. Their husbands had also lost their lives on theSalty Dove. Neither the place nor the reason for the widows meeting was a pleasant one, but she’d never forget that fateful afternoon. It was where the root of her idea for the girls’ school was planted.
Before that day, Adeline had never been anywhere near London’s docks. It wasn’t an area for ladies.
Unsettled swirls of fog had drifted in off the water. Nestled between the occasional distant squawk from a seabird were irreverent shouts and sometimes-raucous laughter from men working on lines, hulls, or decks of the boats and ships. She was close enough to hear the continuous clank of riggings tapping against wooden masts and water lapping at seawalls. The smells would be forever etched in her mind as well. Dank water, dead fish, and putrid waste were mixed with faint, vagrant traces of salted, muggy air.
A large square near the waterfront and down from the shipping channel had been chosen to display what few belongings had been recovered from the passengers aboard theSalty Dove. The items were lined up in rows, available for family members who wanted to wander through the collection and retrieve their loved one’s final possessions.
Adeline’s brother-in-law had asked her to join him for the heartrending but necessary task since she wouldknow better than anyone what personal items her husband had with him on the voyage. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
She had learned early in her marriage that she didn’t know her husband at all. And the awkward truth was that he wasn’t a man she wanted to know or to mourn. She was grateful for the generous allowance he’d left for her, but she would never return to the estate where he’d forced her to live, and demanded to know day after day after day why she wasn’t in the family way. He didn’t seem to care that Adeline wanted a babe, too. A child would have given her someone to love.
Near the waterfront that sorrowful afternoon, the three widows were drawn together because none of them had the need to sift through the articles that had washed ashore. They couldn’t watch the few who did.
Off to the side and down the boardwalk, Adeline noticed another group of people huddled together. Mostly women and children. She heard gentle crying, sniffling, and softly spoken words from some of them. All were poorly dressed, but there seemed to be a special bond among them as they hugged, talked, and comforted one another.
Adeline found herself drawn to them because they seemed to be experiencing the true mourning she’d never felt for her husband. She overheard a red-haired, freckle-faced little girl asking, “Mum, what are we going to do now that Papa is gone?”
“I don’t know, my little one,” the mother had whispered desperately, brushing through the girl’s tangle of long, red curls with a shaking hand. “Ye know I don’t have a delicate hand when it comes to a stitch and thatyer Papa was only being kind when he said I made the best bread he ever ate. I can find someone who’ll pay me a wage to clean their shop for ’em. Don’t worry yeself, lassie. I’ll find work somewhere.”
“I won’t worry, Mum. I’m big now. I’ll help take care of you now that Papa’s gone.”
Adeline watched the mother smile and then kiss the top of her young daughter’s head with dry, trembling lips. She hugged the little girl with such tightness, Adeline felt as if her own chest were being squeezed. The woman looked up and saw Adeline watching her. Tremendous anguish and deep confusion showed in the woman’s face, causing Adeline to wobble on her feet. That’s when she realized that death, grief, and fear respected no one. That’s when the first tears of loss rushed to her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. The woman gave her a comforting smile and a curtsy. Adeline was profoundly touched by the woman’s show of respect even while bearing the weight of her own immense tragedy.
Wanting to help ease her pain in some way, Adeline stopped a worker and asked about the small group. He told her they were the family members of the ship’s workers. They would be allowed to go through the belongings only after the members of Society had finished.
