Quietly watching the two men interact, she was hardly able to hide that small glimmer of amusement as she noticed the way that Townsend would roll his eyes at Taylor's natural friendliness and charm. She adored the Englishman, she truly did. He was more than a friend in her eyes. To the dark-haired woman, he was her family. Almost her only family, really. She refused to give her father the satisfaction of calling him any sort of endearing term, and while she did love her mother as most children did, there was no denying that the way the older woman had sided with the dreadful snake of a man she had the displeasure of sharing blood with had wounded the young woman. Perhaps even more than she was aware of. It wasn't that the young woman didn't understand why it would be that her mother would choose the nobleman's side, and she was sure that unlike the man that Adelaide couldn't stand the French woman, all that her mother wanted was for her to be well looked after. But that was just it. Adelaide didn't need someone to constantly be watching over her â€" at least, that was what she continued to tell herself. Aside from that night at the burlesque, the dark-haired woman was typically cautious enough of her surroundings that she could look after herself. Even Townsend might argue that it was simply her independent and stubborn nature that didn't allow for her to see the true dangers that might be lurking somewhere in the shadows just around that figurative bend in her day to day life, but she simply refused to believe that she wasn't able to take care of herself. So, when her mother had dared to say to her that she simply needed to settle on marrying the least despicable od suitors, that it was impossible to get everything one wanted in life, Adelaide had been hurt. It was as though the older woman had no faith in her daughter that she could make a life for herself, that she couldn't survive without someone beside her to make sure that she didn't take a wrong step.

Most all of her life had been spent being protected, being sheltered... being treated like she was hardly the writer of her own story. She was tired of it, and perhaps that was why she was so drawn to Taylor from the beginning. There was something about him that had whispered to that untamed spirit of hers, like she'd found a kindred spirit in the roguish man even before she had been aware of such a connection. He didn't treat her like a puppet, like someone incapable of making her own choices. If anything, he only encouraged that fire in her heart. She could remember how he'd offered to teach her how to drive that Harley parked outside in the driveway, and had it been during daylight hours, Adelaide would have loved to take Taylor up on that offer of his. She hadn't though, the one and only reason being that she'd felt that perhaps it would be best to learn such skills when she could truly see what it was that she was doing. All the same, she held him to that offer that he would surely offer. Now, the trick would be stealing away with the man when Townsend wasn't looking. That would prove to be the more difficult task at hand. Just like her parents, he was concerned for her well-being, and she couldn't love him more for that protectiveness that he held for her, but the entire reason that they'd moved away from the estate, from Paris, was so that she could live. And ever since Taylor walked into her life, that was just what she'd been doing. It was hardly like her to sneak out at night, but things were different here in Sacrosanct, and he would simply have to accept that. She would never stop loving him as a brother, and perhaps it was the very change in their lives that made it hard for the Englishman to accept Taylor, but she was sure that in the end he would come around.

Laughter finds those eyes of glittering sage as the two men talk about the garden, Taylor's remark placing within Adeliade's thoughts the idea of him struggling against those wicked thorns that those rosebushes were so well-known for having. When she turns her attention to Townsend though, she can see a brooding expression on his usually refined features, but she hardly had to ask just what it was he was thinking. He had likely seen the way that she and Taylor reacted to one another. He was far from blind or oblivious, so she was nearly certain that he could see the way that they looked at one another, and knowing exactly how the Englishman felt about the other man, she could only imagine the thought that filled his mind as he finished making breakfast. She would address that another time though, when the two of them were alone and he would let her know exactly what was bothering him. No, they didn't always see eye to eye, and Taylor was the most perfect example of that, but that did not in the least change the dynamic between the two. Taylor's tenor tones draw Adelaide from her thoughts and she can't help the soft laughter that falls from her lips."Oh, I have very little doubt that you will", she says playfully before casting Townsend a knowing look. She hardly misses how Townsend offers a piece of sausage to Reginald who is quick to accept the treat before he moves over to sit beside Rose, a look of disappointment seeming to flicker through Taylor. It was then that Townsend called to the harlequin canine who readily gets up and strides across the room, those eyes refusing to leave Taylor as she moves past him just out of reach, gently taking the treat from Townsend before making her way back over to where Reginald was now laying happily beside the fireplace on the carpet, the Englishman making a sharp remark as Rose moves away, Adelaide giving him a quick glance just as sharp as his words although she says nothing. Not yet. Clearly something was bothering Townsend. When the beauceron reaches her companion, she turns so that she is once again sitting there with dark eyes trained on Taylor, offering him little more than a twitch of her ear. The dark-haired woman gives Taylor a gentle look. He'd win her over soon enough.

Turning to the plate of food in front of her, she begins to eat, all the while casting the men she shared her morning with affectionate glances every now and again although it would be a lie to say that her gaze wouldn't linger over Taylor perhaps a touch longer than it should as their knees brush gently against one another. She can hardly keep the soft smile from her lips as she finishes the rest of her coffee. Unexpectedly, Townsend's accented words have her pausing and moment as she feels that fire roar to life beneath her sage gaze, quick to calm those less desirable feelings although not without stabbing a portion of the scramble on her plate with a little more force than was needed."I'm sorry, Townsend but I haven't. All the man seems to go on about is returning to Paris", she answers almost coldly. Any moment that her father weaseled his way into her day was hardly a welcomed one, but then offers the Englishman an apologetic smile as she takes another mouthful of food. She was sure he knew that she hadn't meant to act the way she did, but she grows quiet for a moment. Thankful for Taylor's tenor tones to distract her as she finishes the last of her breakfast, turning to smile softly at him as if nothing in her demeanor hadn't changed."Yes, as a matter of fact. Chicken Cordon Bleu. It's cliché, I know, but it's a favored dish of many so it'll do for today", she answers casually before moving out of her seat and moving over to the sink, cleaning her dishes as Townsend decidedly found Taylor another task to look after. Naturally. Had it not been for the mention of her father, she might have given a melodic chuckle as she turns on the faucet, but still she is quelling the sudden fury and defiance that ignited her only moments ago.

She takes her time washing that plate, hardly glancing up as she rinses the soap from the fine porcelain as she chases away the most recent letter he'd sent. Julien had been asking about her... Even after she'd made it cruelly clear to the man that she never wanted to see him again or even hear his voice, he still made an effort to cordially chat with the dark-haired woman. She'd avoided him like the plague time and time again, and Rose had been more than willing to show him the truly protective side of her with teeth bared and hackles raised. Yet still, the man persisted. Hadn't he learned? Apparently not... Not only had he had the audacity to continue seeking her after that day - likely at her father's request as well which would hardly even be of any surprise that her - as if he practically accepted her to forgive him for how he'd betrayed her, but now even his name could not stay away from the letters that she hardly cared to read and, half the time if not more, didn't even bother to reply to. She left that to Townsend, the Englishman having been tasked with keeping the nobleman informed of the occurrences here when she truly wished that he wouldn't. Once the bistro began to bring in even more business, she would have to see that such things changed. Drying her dish and placing it in the cupboard where it belonged, she glances over to the clock on the wall and notices the time. She turns to look between Townsend and Taylor as she moves into the living area to retrieve the frock coat draped over the arm of one of the seats, slipping it easily over her shoulders."Well, as always, thank you for breakfast Townsend. I'd best be off to the bistro. And try to be kind to Taylor, s'il vous plaît", she says as she walks back over to the Englishman to place her hand on his arm in their usual exchange of physical affection. She turns to Taylor now, a gentle smile dancing upon her lips as she stops beside where he's sitting. Without so much as the slightest of hesitation or concern for how Townsend would react, she places her hand on Taylor's arm as well, only to lean in and place a soft kiss upon his cheek. Sage eyes lock with those hunter greens for a moment when she pulls away, that look far from unfamiliar between the pair as they would part of the day. Blinking thick lashes at him, she remains there before finally moving towards the hallway."Au revoir", she calls over her shoulder before disappearing, the sound of the door opening and closing behind her announcing the French woman's departure from the large manor towards the cab she waves down just in time. Climbing into the yellow sedan and giving the driver the address for the Beachside Bar and Bistro, she sets off on her way to begin yet another day of securing her place in Sacrosanct, bringing her perhaps one day closer to all that she wanted from this chapter in her life.