ADRIAN COULD NOT TAKE his eyes off the woman seated next to him looking at the fire. Her fingers trembled faintly in her lap, her face still flushed, her lashes wet from tears that had only just ceased to fall. The faint glimmer on her cheekbones caught the flicker of the firelight, betraying her shame even as she tried to hide it.
'Women,' he thought wearily, 'were a puzzle he would never solve.' A moment ago she had been weeping as though her heart had broken, and now she sat there, timid and blushing like a startled fawn. The contradiction both amused and unsettled him.
He longed to ask what had moved her to tears, but something in her downcast gaze stopped him. Her vulnerability disarmed him, and though curiosity gnawed at his chest, he could not bring himself to press. Better to leave her be. She had probably suffered enough tonight.
So he did the only thing he could to ease her discomfort after watching her for a silent while. He cleared his throat softly and said, his voice lower than usual, almost uncertain, "Em... I think I'll go now."
Her fingers stilled for a moment, then resumed their nervous motion. She did not lift her eyes to look at him. "Okay," she murmured, so quietly he barely caught the word.
He nodded faintly and rose from the bed, the quiet rustle of his coat filling the silence. Another day, perhaps, he would ask her what had caused her tears. But tonight, he would let her rest and preserve her dignity.
He had reached the door, his hand already upon the handle, when her small voice reached him from across the room.
"Em... Adrian."
He paused, his back still to her. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
The simplicity of it caught him off guard. He turned slightly, though not enough to see her face, and a strange and unfamiliar warmth, unfolded within his chest. He found himself smiling despite the curiosity in his heart.
"You're welcome," he said gently. Then after a moment, more softly still, "Rest. We'll speak in the morning. I have some work to attend to."
"Alright." Her voice was calmer now. The tremor was gone. He left quietly, closing the door with care as though afraid the sound might provoke her to tears again.
Out in the corridor, the air felt colder. His footsteps echoed softly along the long, carpeted hall, each one heavy with thought.
'What had made her cry?' he wondered again. It was absurd he was still thinking about it, but he could not let it go. He had never seen a woman cry. His mother never had, nor his sister. At least, not in front of him. The sight of Evelina's tears unsettled him, and stirred something unfamiliar in his heart. Sympathy? Guilt? Perhaps both.
He was still lost in thought when a familiar figure appeared ahead of him. Butler Blake, dignified as ever, approached with that quiet grace that seemed almost rehearsed.
"Your Grace," the butler greeted, bowing his head slightly.
Adrian nodded with a polite smile. "Blake."
"I noticed you were not in your study, my lord," Blake continued, falling into step beside him. "I presumed you had retired for the night."
"I find myself not yet inclined to sleep," Adrian replied. Though his voice remained steady, fatigue edged its corners. After what he had witnessed, sleep felt an unlikely mercy.
Together, they walked down the dim corridor, the muted glow of the sconces casting long shadows along the walls.
"Lord Percival… has requested that you add a visit to St. Andrew's Orphanage to your schedule, Your Grace," Blake announced.
Adrian stopped in his tracks with furrowed brows. Why did his father always choose to interfere in his matters? "A visit to the orphanage?" His tone darkened, his jaw tightening. "Did he now?"
Blake inclined his head. "Yes, my lord. I mentioned that your schedule was already full, but he insisted... and ordered that I cancel the remainder of your engagements."
"What?" Adrian's voice rose slightly, incredulous. "He cancelled my schedule?" Somehow this information pissed him off.
"Yes, Your Grace," Blake said softly. "He was quite firm."
Adrian exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. The old man was at it again, pulling the strings as though he were still a boy under his father's command. "He's testing me," he muttered under his breath. "Always trying to dictate what I must do."
But even anger felt exhausting tonight. He waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind. Let's discuss something else. Have you arranged my trip to Spain?"
Blake hesitated. "I'm still working on it, my lord. Your calendar remains... rather full."
"Then apply yourself more diligently," Adrian replied curtly, though weariness dulled the severity of the command.
"Yes, Your Grace."
They entered the study, the warm scent of leather and parchment filling the air. Adrian crossed to his chair, leaning back with a quiet sigh, while Blake remained standing with the quiet dignity of a man who had served too long to ever appear uneasy.
After a moment, Adrian spoke again, his voice quieter now. "Blake, may I ask you something…" he paused and sighed, "…personal?"
Blake's expression hardened, the corners of his mouth flattening as a grave seriousness took hold of his features. "Of course, Your Grace."
"Have you…" Adrian paused again, clearing his throat nervously, "em… ever walked in on your wife... in tears?"
Blake blinked, startled by the question. "My wife, my lord?"
Adrian gave a faint, almost hesitant nod, his expression turning oddly guarded. He deliberately avoided Blake's gaze, lowering his eyes as an unfamiliar warmth crept up the back of his neck. A sudden shyness settled over him, making his movements feel stiff and uncertain. Why on earth was he feeling so nervous?
"Yes," he murmured, the word quieter than he had intended.
The butler's surprise softened into something almost tender. "Yes, Your Grace," he said smoothly and seemed to be in thought before he said, "Twice, if I recall."
Adrian leaned forward slightly, interest sharpening his expression despite himself. "Why was she crying?"
Blake allowed himself a small smile. "The first occasion," he said after a thoughtful pause, "occurred early in our marriage." He exhaled softly, as though recalling the memory. "She was lonely, I believe. I devoted too many hours to my work, leaving her with little company. She confessed that she felt… forgotten."
Adrian's gaze lowered once more to the smooth surface of the desk. Forgotten. The word lingered unpleasantly in his thoughts, settling there like a weight. Had Evelina felt the same?
"And the second time?" he asked quietly.
Blake's smile deepened slightly. "Ah. That instance was far less troubling, Your Grace. Hormones, the physician explained. Then, she was with a child."
Adrian's brows knit faintly. "Hormones?" The word felt unfamiliar on his tongue. "You mean to suggest that a woman may weep simply because of… nature?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes," Blake replied politely. "Women are moved readily by emotion. When their hearts are uneasy, it often reveals itself through tears. They do not always require great tragedy, my lord, only a heart left unattended."
Silence settled heavily across the room.
Adrian remained still, absorbing the words. Only a heart left unattended. He leaned back slowly in his chair, the firelight catching along the thoughtful lines of his face.
Perhaps that was it. Perhaps she had wept not from fear… nor pain…
…but loneliness.
And if that were so…
was he the one who had left her heart unattended?