"What the hell are you doing?" Lady Hamilton demanded, as Malloryn and his Rogues splayed out through the foyer of her home. "You cannot simply shove your way in here! Richards! Richards! Remove them at once."
Adele paused on the lintel, silently steeling herself for this encounter.
"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Lady Hamilton." Malloryn held up a piece of paper. "The queen has signed a warrant to have your house searched. Your husband, Sir George, has been accused of treason against the crown, and there is enough evidence to suggest he kept vital documents of a plot against the queen in his study. I've been authorized to search it."
Lady Hamilton snatched the warrant, and then swiftly tore it into shreds. "My husband is not a traitor. You have no proof! Get out!"
"Was not," Malloryn said coolly.
"What?"
"Was not a traitor. Your husband is dead. He set off an explosion with himself inside the building."
All the color drained out of her mother's face.
"Get out, you son of a bitch!" Lady Hamilton hissed. "Get out of my—"
"For God's sakes, Mother!" Adele hurried inside. "It's done. Father made his own choices and he has paid for them."
Lady Hamilton lashed out, her hand slapping Adele's cheek. "You treacherous snake!"
The shock of the blow sent her reeling, but then Malloryn was there, capturing her mother's wrists.
"I would urge you to think of yourself and your other daughter, Lady Hamilton," he warned, in a cold, deadly voice. "The only reason your house isn't swarming with Coldrush Guards and journalists, is because your eldest daughter has convinced me to keep word of Sir George's treachery quiet. Thank all the gods she has some familial affection for you and her sister. But if you ever lift a hand against Adele again, I may not be so inclined to protect you."
Adele pushed past Lady Hamilton and crossed to Hattie's side. Her sister's wide eyes darted back and forth, and she trembled. "Adele?"
"Are you all right?" Adele asked.
"What's going on?" Hattie whispered, as Adele hugged her.
"You're safe. You're finally safe." She closed her eyes as Hattie's slender form molded to hers. Then she looked up, locking eyes with her mother. "My husband is now your official guardian, and all thrall or consort offers must be officially signed by him. Nobody can force you into any match you do not willingly accept. And once this mess is all sorted, you'll be coming to live with me."
Lady Hamilton's lips pressed thinly together, but as she took in all the movement in the foyer, she finally seemed to concede, her shoulders shrinking in upon herself.
It was as if she aged twenty years in a single second.
"Search the house," Malloryn barked, granting Adele a nod, before he turned and followed Charlie up the stairs toward her father's study.
Chapter 26
The scent of brandy filled the air as Adele made her way down to the library that night.
The second Malloryn saw her, he stiffened.A nearly empty glass hung from lax fingers, and his cravat was undone and draped down his chest. It was as close to disheveled as she'd ever seen him.
"How are you feeling after your nap?" he asked.
Lonely. She hugged herself. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and it will all have been a dream. But then I pinch myself, and I'm not asleep."
"Your sister is well settled with your aunt," he murmured. "She'll be safe there."
"I know." Adele crossed toward him. "How are you feeling?"
It had been an eventful day, and he'd only just returned from the Ivory Tower. She'd seen the carriage from her window.
Malloryn scraped a hand across his jaw. "Frustrated. The queen is on edge and there's nothing incriminating in your father's study anymore. He must have burned everything, for the grate is full of ashes. And now he's dead—"
He suddenly stopped as if realizing what he was about to say.
"And you cannot question him," she whispered.
"Forgive me." Malloryn reached forward to capture her fingers. "That was unforgivably rude."
Adele squeezed his hand. "It feels strange. I should be grieving, but I'm not. I just feel... so empty."
They stared at each other, fingers linked.
Try as he might, he'd never convince her he didn't want her—every time their gazes met, she could feel the spark igniting between them. Malloryn looked like he wanted to haul her into his lap.
Even as he denied himself.
So be it.
This stalemate had gone on long enough. Perhaps it was time to take matters into her own hands?
"Why don't you come up to bed?" she whispered. "You look tired."
"And you look like you have no intentions of luring me to bed to sleep."
"I could stay with you," Adele murmured, the hem of her robe draping over the chair as she knelt on it. "We could grant each other sweet dreams."
Malloryn brushed his knuckles up her thigh and then slowly looked up, his lashes stained copper in the lantern-light. "I don't think I would be very good company tonight."
"That's nothing new," she said, with a smile and a twitch of her brow.
"Adele."
"You've barely slept in days."
Please. Tell me why.
His head lolled back in the chair, roughened stubble darkening his cheeks. "Not tonight. It's… the anniversary of Catherine's death tomorrow."
Adele's hand froze on his cheek. "Oh. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," he said with a sigh, turning his face into her hand. "It's been years. I barely remember her sometimes. But I cannot help thinking it an ominous occasion. Balfour's going to do something, strike out somehow. I can just feel it."
"You're as prepared as you're going to be. You'll defeat him, I know it."
Malloryn kissed the back of her hand. "Go back to bed. One of us should get some rest."
"And you?"
Malloryn lifted the glass. "Maybe I'll come up in an hour or so."
Push him.
Adele slid into his lap.