“That is not what I need!” she shouted, this time losing her patience completely and yanking her hand away.
He stared at her for a moment, perplexed. She was perplexed as well by the total lack of emotional understanding between them, and by her own outburst. She was not doing the proper, polite thing. Nor was she doing what someone else wanted and expected her to do. This was completely out of character for her.
And it was shockingly satisfying.
Harold straightened his shoulders and smiled again. “Perhaps you just need to rest your feet.”
Rest her feet. Adele labored to control her frustration. They really did not know each other at all.
They returned to the ballroom in silence, and he delivered her to her mother and Eustacia. Adele noticed suddenly that Lily was not with them. She turned her eyes toward the couples who were dancing.
There they were. Lily and Damien, waltzing around the room—spinning and swirling. They made a handsome couple with their matching dark hair, both of them immensely attractive in their own right. They appeared to be having a wonderful time with each other.
Adele tried not to stare but glanced their way discreetly whenever she could. Each time she looked at them, she was sobered by a heavy sadness that hung over her like a cloud. She should be the one out there on the floor with Damien, talking and laughing. Wasn’t she the one who had shared an intimate bond with him? Or was she the world’s worst fool to believe that? Perhaps he made all women feel that way.
The dance ended, and Damien escorted Lily back to Eustacia. Lily’s cheeks were flushed, and she was glowing with bright smiles and laughter. Damien stayed for a few moments, standing beside Adele, talking to Eustacia and Harold.
The intensity of his presence beside her, even though he wasn’t touching her or talking to her directly, made her passions catch fire. She realized with sorrow that she had not felt so vibrant and alive since he had left her, more than two weeks ago. She might as well have been asleep all that time.
She shifted her weight and accidentally brushed her arm lightly against Damien’s for a mere fraction of a second. The contact was like a drug.... Intoxicating. Debilitating.
She shifted her weight back again. The conversation sustained its ebb and flow, and Damien did not seem to notice the brief contact. Adele, on the other hand, had to take a moment to recover from it.
She knew in that moment that she was doomed. As much as she had tried to talk herself out of her feelings—because of Damien’s reputation and the rumors that he was only looking for money—and despite the fact that he was loyal to Harold and claimed he would never betray that loyalty, she wanted him. Passionately. With every ounce of her soul. And she was hurt by the attentions he paid to Lily, even when Adele knew it made no sense because she had no claim on his affections.
She took a deep, steadying breath and glanced across at Harold, whose eyes were wide with excitement and interest as he listened to Beatrice talk about American cowboys.
Adele felt sick. Her emotions had defied the sensible plans she had made, and she was going to have to change those plans and disappoint many people. She could not marry Harold. She wanted very much to board a ship and go home.
“Miss Wilson, perhaps I may have the honor of a dance?” Damien asked, turning toward her.
Adele’s gaze shot to his face.
“Oh yes, do go and dance!” Eustacia said. “You look so bored, Adele!”
“Indeed, you do, my dear,” Harold agreed. “Damien, take her for two dances, will you?”
Adele felt her heart begin to pound. She glanced at her mother, who, unlike the others, was not smiling.
Damien held out his gloved hand. She met his gaze and realized she couldn’t stop herself from going with him if she tried. Here was an opportunity to spend the next few minutes in his strong, capable arms, dancing with him, looking into the depths of his dark eyes. It was an opportunity to satisfy her longings, however briefly that satisfaction would last.
At this point, what did it matter? She was going to let her family down anyway, and Harold’s family, too. Why not steal one last moment of rapture before she—sensible, dependable Adele Wilson—made the deliberate and conscious choice to leap, for the first time in her life, into the deep chasm of everyone’s disappointment?
Chapter 20
“Is everything all right?” Damien asked, sounding genuinely concerned as he led Adele onto the dance floor.
He held out his hand and Adele stepped into position. The waltz began. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”
“Did you pull that answer out of your sleeve, Adele? I’m perfectly fine. Honestly. I know you’re angry with me about what happened that last day at Osulton, and I wish you would just tell me that you hate me, or anything. Stop being so polite. So bloody English. God, one would never believe you were an American.”
“I beg your pardon?” she said. “I’m every inch an American, and just tonight, Harold said I had to stop acting so much like one! That’s two conflicting expectations about how I should behave, and quite frankly, Damien, I’m done being what everyone else thinks I should be.”
Damien gazed down at her for a moment. “Well. That was a load off your cart.”
Adele’s eyebrows pulled together into a frown. She huffed. Then all her muscles relaxed. He had done it again. He had lifted the lid on her boiling emotions and let out the steam. How did he always know when she needed that?
“Yes, it was a load off,” she replied.
He twirled her around the floor, leading her smoothly and skillfully toward the outer edges of the room. His voice softened. “Let us begin again, Adele. Please. How have you been?”
She followed him through a sideways turn. “I’ve had better days.”
“I assume you’re torturing yourself over what happened between us.”
It was remarkable how quickly he dove straight into the heart of a matter.
“Of course. What about you?”
“Naturally. Harold is my cousin. But I’ve also been torturing myself over the way I treated you in the library before I left. You were right to send me packing. You should have tossed a glass of water in my face while you were at it. I deserved it because I did drag you down with me. I am a scoundrel.”
They danced across the width of the room. “So, you no longer believe I am the angelic creature Harold proposed to? Do you still think he is in danger?”
Damien paused before answering, then he spoke softly. “Maybe you were never so angelic to begin with.”
Adele bristled. She didn’t know how to take such a remark. All she knew was that she refused to let him make her feel ashamed. “You are a scoundrel, Damien.”
He shut his eyes and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to insult you. What I meant to say is that you are a woman with passions, Adele, like any other woman, and you should not have been made out to be a saint. That is an impossibly high standard to live up to.”
Her heart was racing. She was in pain, heaven help her, and it was because of him, because he touched the depths of her heart, even when she did not want him to. She was so angry with him. Why did he have to do this to her? He should not have asked her to dance. He should have kept his distance.
“But women with passions and desires,” she said, “are eventually unfaithful. Isn’t that what you think? And because I’ve shown you those passions, I’ve fallen from grace in your eyes, have I not?”
“In a way,” he replied. “But perhaps that was a good thing.”
His reply only fueled Adele’s antagonism toward him. She wished he did not have the power to hurt her like this, but he did. And the fact that he thought badly of her shouldn’t matter. She hated that it did. Hated it. She also hated that she could not keep herself from becoming defensive. She could not let him go on thinking badly of her, because she was not a bad person.
�
�I told you before that I will never be an unfaithful wife,” she said. “When I speak my marriage vows, I will be true to them.”
He offered no reply.
“You don’t believe me,” she said with barely controlled shock and hostility. She shook her head. “This is outrageous. I wish this dance would end.”
“I didn’t ask you to dance to fight with you,” he said.
They waltzed around the room very fast. Adele recalled suddenly how he and Lily had looked when they were dancing together earlier. They had been smiling and laughing. Damien was not laughing now. He was looking over Adele’s shoulder, his expression dark and serious.
She tried to push her anger off to the side. “Are you going to propose to Lily?” she asked, when they reached the far corner of the dance floor.
“Probably.”
Adele worked hard to keep her composure. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
He considered her statement for a moment, then looked over her shoulder again. “I take it you’ve heard that I have an urgent need for money.”
“Everyone has heard it.”
The waltz finally came to an end, and the dance floor began to clear. Damien and Adele remained in the center of the room, however.
“Harold told us to dance twice,” he said.
The room hummed with conversation while the guests found their partners. Then other couples moved onto the floor. Music started up again. Adele found herself unable to do anything but step back into Damien’s arms.
They began to dance, and he returned to the subject of Lily and his need for money. “You think that as soon as I get my hands on Lily’s dowry, I’ll go back to Frances and break Lily’s heart.”
Adele spoke plainly. “I am concerned for her.”
“Like I was concerned for Harold?”
Adele narrowed her eyes at him. “We keep coming back to that, don’t we? It seems we don’t respect or trust each other very much. Is it possible we could ever get along? We’ve witnessed each other’s disgrace, and when we see each other, we will always be reminded of our weaknesses. There will always be resentment and mistrust.”
They danced in silence for a few measures. “We’re fighting again,” Damien said. “Future cousins shouldn’t fight.”
But they would not be cousins. Adele was going to return to America, just as soon as she tumbled off the pedestal everyone seemed to think she sat upon. Everyone except Damien.
He stopped dancing suddenly and stepped away from her. “You don’t think that’s why I kissed you, do you? Because of your money?”
She considered her answer carefully while other dancers waltzed by them. “I admit it crossed my mind, considering what the gossips say.”
He did not reply right away. Then he took her into his arms again and resumed the dance. “I will be honest with you. The gossip is correct on one point. I do need money. I’m completely broke, and the creditors have been banging at my door for months. I informed my steward that I would do my best to find a wealthy bride before the end of the Season, and I intend to do just that. There. That’s the ugly truth. But rest assured, I did not kiss you because I wanted your father’s settlement. I could not even fathom stealing you away from Harold, even that day in the teahouse when I lost all control, and I still cannot. I kissed you because I couldn’t resist you. It was as basic and fundamental as that.”
“Because you are a scoundrel,” she said flatly.
His voice softened. “Yes. Because I am a scoundrel. But I do regret what happened.”
“I regret it, too.” She hoped that saying it might help her to commit to it.
The music ended, and their dance was over. She stepped out of Damien’s arms, but he did not return her to her mother right away.
“I hope,” he said quietly, “that we will be able to move past this. You’re going to be Harold’s wife soon, and I’m going to be someone’s husband. It’s my deepest wish that we will forget everything that happened between us, Adele, and go on to have a normal, uncomplicated acquaintance as cousins by marriage.”
She could see in his eyes that he was sincere. He wanted to put this unpleasantness behind them.
For a fleeting moment, she wanted desperately to tell him that she could not marry Harold, that she wished he would get down on his knee right there and plead with her to become his wife instead. She could take a step toward him and whisper it in his ear...I’m not going to marry Harold. Then they could join hands and run out of there, as fast as they could, past all the watching eyes, not caring about the gossip, and escape, just the two of them, to his house in the country.
Oh, how a part of her wanted that. If only he knew....
But, of course, she could not give in to such a temptation. This man was a self-proclaimed scoundrel who wanted to marry someone—anyone—for money, and he had the power to make Adele lose all common sense and reason. He could crush her heart into a thousand tiny pieces when all was said and done, when he returned to his mistress, as she knew he would.
Besides, she owed it to Harold to tell him the truth before she told anyone else. She could not take the coward’s way out and run away from that responsibility. So, she kept her decision to herself. Damien would learn of it soon enough.
Chapter 21
Damien stood alone in the corner of the ballroom reflecting on everything he had just said to Adele. He felt almost dizzy.
It was over. He had apologized. He had told her he intended to move on, which he fully intended to do. He would find a wife, and he would love that woman, whoever she might be. He would not give in to temptation again.
Reaching for a glass of champagne on a silver tray held by a footman, Damien turned when Lord Whitby appeared beside him. “Alcester, good to see you.”
Damien noted that Whitby was not alone. He was accompanied by his friend the Duke of Wentworth—a highly respected and sometimes feared peer of the realm, who also happened to be Adele’s brother-in-law, as well as lady Lily’s brother.
Damien cursed to himself. It was turning out to be a hell of a night.
They each came to stand on either side of Damien, surrounding him, as it were.
Whitby raised a glass to the duke. “James, I don’t believe you’ve met Viscount Alcester.”
There were not many men tall enough to meet Damien’s gaze on an equal level. The duke was one of the few who could.
“No, I regret I have not had the pleasure.”
Damien cordially inclined his head. The duke responded in kind.
They, all three of them, stood side by side for a moment or two, watching the floor. Then Whitby said, “Pleasant night for dancing, isn’t it?”
“Indeed,” the duke replied.
Another moment of silence ensued. Whitby finished his drink. “I believe I see an old acquaintance. Will you excuse me?”
He walked off, leaving Damien alone with Wentworth.
Damien’s instincts were finely tuned when it came to men who were of a mind to protect sisters or daughters from men like himself. Thus, he knew that Whitby had left them alone intentionally. It was an arranged opportunity for questioning.
He turned toward Wentworth, and said simply, “Well.”
The duke took his time studying Damien’s eyes with shrewd diligence. He appeared utterly relaxed. He was in no hurry to reply. Then at last, he spoke. “It seems we share a few acquaintances. Adele Wilson, for one. My wife’s sister.”
“Ah.” Damien was surprised. He had rather been expecting the duke to hone in on Damien’s intentions where Lady Lily was concerned. Perhaps that would come next. “Yes. Osulton and I are cousins.”
“Lord Osulton, Adele’s fiancé. I’ve met him once or twice over the years. He has a keen interest in science, does he not?”
“He does.”
“And you. Where do your interests lie, Alcester? No
t in science, I presume.”
Damien could feel the inquisition beginning. “No, not in science. At least not on an experimental level.”
“I thought not.”
Damien turned his eyes to the dance floor again and took a deep swig of his champagne.
“I suppose,” the duke said coolly, “that it’s high time I expressed some gratitude to you.”
Surprised, Damien turned to him again. “Gratitude?”
“Yes. For your.... How shall I put it? Your errand. My wife, Sophia, was greatly relieved to see her sister again.”
Damien stared into Wentworth’s cool gaze. “I didn’t think anyone outside of Osulton Manor was aware of that particular errand.”
There was a small hint of a smile in Wentworth’s expression. “My mother-in-law finds it a challenge to keep secrets from her daughters.”
Damien nodded, understanding. “I’ve spent some time with Mrs. Wilson. She’s an interesting woman. She and my aunt have struck up quite a friendship.”
“And I would wager they are like two peas in a pod.”
“They talk of nothing but wedding bouquets and bridal sashes.”
“Ah, the romance of impending nuptials,” the duke said. “Nothing stirs a mother’s soup like an offspring’s wedding.”
Damien smiled, amused and a little surprised that this was not unfolding as he had expected it would.
The dance came to an end, and the room mixed and shifted. Damien and the duke remained where they were, however, until the orchestra began again.
“I understand you have a preference for the outdoors,” the duke said. “Your skill as a horseman is quite renowned.”
“I enjoy riding.”
“As do I. I prefer the country. Fresh air, trees and birds.”
Damien merely nodded.
“My sister-in-law also prefers the outdoors. Adele, I mean. She, too, loves to ride. Sophia once told me that when Adele was a girl, she sold her hair to keep her horse. That was, of course, before Mr. Wilson introduced himself to Wall Street.”
In Love with the Viscount (American Heiress Trilogy Book 3) Page 17
