Free The Bride Behind the Curtain by Darcie Wilde Page A

money and keep her foolishness in permanent check.
    Because that was what her mother, her sad, distant mother, had wanted.
    But as she struggled against tears, confusion, and anger, a knock sounded on the door. A bare heartbeat later, the door opened.
    â€œLady Adele . . . Oh! Good morning, Mrs. Kearsely.” Miss Sewell, without any hesitation, breezed into the room. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Lady Adele had promised to show me the duke’s famous library, and knowing that she’s an early riser like myself, I suggested it be this morning. I thought she might have forgotten, but I ran into Monsieur Beauclaire, and he said he was sure she was awake, so I took it upon myself . . . but that’s neither here nor there. I have interrupted, and I can come back.”
    Adele watched the silent internal war raging inside her aunt. The need to hammer home her lecture fought desperately against the need to cultivate this fashionable, if unconventional, personage. Fashion, as usual, won out. “Oh no, Miss Sewell. I insist you stay. Adele will be glad to show you the library.”
    â€œYes, of course,” Adele murmured. Never mind that she hadn’t made any such promise.
    Aunt Kearsely curtsied to Miss Sewell and took herself off back downstairs, leaving Adele alone with the lady novelist.
    â€œMonsieur Beauclaire thought you might be in need of rescue. Miss Sewell shook her head at Adele and the closed door equally. “I see he was right.”
    â€œ
James
sent you?” Adele was glad she was already seated, otherwise she might have collapsed from the weight of her emotion.
    â€œHe did.” Miss Sewell smiled, and while it was a kind smile, it was also too sharp to be entirely comfortable. “He in fact barged into my room and all but shook me by the shoulders and insisted I interrupt the . . . discussion you were having with your aunt.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œI have known James Beauclaire for several years,” Miss Sewell went on, cocking her head to the side as if to better examine Adele. “But I have never seen him so agitated.”
    He was going to kiss me. In the breakfast room. He was going to touch me, and I was going to let him. Again. He was going to tell me . . . to tell me . . .
She swallowed. Her mouth and throat had gone entirely dry. “Do you know where he is now?”
    â€œI told him to give me ten minutes and then meet you in the library.”
    â€œOh.” All at once her mind cleared, and the memory that had been held back by the events of the morning poured in. “Oh! No! He mustn’t! You must tell him . . . tell him I will find him later. Please.”
    â€œI will, if you tell me why.”
    Adele clapped her hand over her mouth to keep in her sudden burst of hilarity. “Because I’ve already agreed to one secret meeting in the library this morning.”

VIII
    â€œThere you are!” cried Helene as Adele slammed into the library.
    As Adele feared, the other two girls had already arrived. There was no evidence of James, but the drapes were drawn shut across the window alcove.
    â€œWhat is the matter?” asked Madelene.
    â€œNothing,” lied Adele. “I just. It’s close in here, isn’t it? I’m just going to crack the window.”
    She hurried to the drapes and peeked between them. There was the window seat, quite empty and innocent. “Oh, it’s still snowing,” she remarked. “Perhaps we’d better leave it closed.”
    â€œIf you’ve quite made up your mind about the window,” said Helene with forced patience, “perhaps you’re ready to hear what I have to say. We don’t have much time before the house is up and about.”
    We’ve less time than you think.
Adele did not turn at once. She could not do so until she’d composed her manner. She desperately wished she had a moment to