She would have to face her husband soon if she wished for answers before nightfall. There was no telling what his tasks might be for the day, what business he might engage in, or if he would hide himself away from her all day due to his own discomfort.

After all, he did not like her any more than she liked him. And that was not likely to change after one night of attentions, no matter how enjoyable.

She would much rather not stew in her thoughts and apprehensions all day, and she hardly thought Basset would wish for such a conversation over their evening meal.

Now would undoubtedly be best.

She nodded in her sudden firmness of thought, setting aside her breakfast tray and climbing from the bed. She could not go down in her dressing gown, not this early in her time as Lady Basset, nor when she knew the servants and the lay of the house so little. One day, she would not care as much, she was certain, but impressions were important, and she intended to maintain the impression she hoped she had left upon her arrival the day before. Especially since they would likely all know what had transpired that night.

Heavens, how did anybody face anyone who might have an inkling of such a thing? The whole world would be blushing from head to toe at any given time!

Adelaide shook her head as she fumbled her way into a simple morning gown, not seeing a need to ring for Faust when she fully intended to return to her rooms once she had spoken with her husband. If the conversation took a mortifying turn, as was entirely possible, she would require several hours in her rooms hiding from the world as an appropriate retreat and recovery.

Fumbling with the buttons at her back, straining her arms to reach what they could, she slipped her feet into the nearest slippers, and made her way through her private sitting room. She paused at the door, running her fingers through her hair to rid it of the sleep-tousled nature, then moved out into the corridor, quickly plaiting the hair over her shoulder.

The stairs were easy to manage, but once she was down, her direction became less clear. She knew where the dining room was, but not the breakfast room. If they had a breakfast room. But perhaps Basset would be in his study at this hour, and she had even less of an idea where that was. Her exploration of Trevadden the day before had been minimal, the essentials only, and she had fully intended to be more thorough today.

She might still accomplish that. Perhaps.

“Good morning, Lady Basset,” Mrs. Elsom’s voice floated to her from somewhere nearby.