If he could act like a better man, even a better duke, then people might actually believe that he was changed. He hoped they would, anyway.
Oh, he knew that he could erase everything if he simply spoke up about the truth regarding Lord Selby's gaming debts. He would still have to deal with the issue of his brief period of womanizing, of course but much would be forgiven if it was known that he had broken his sister's betrothal simply to protect her rather than because he was an unmitigated ass.
Except that he had promised himself that he wouldn't do such a thing. Largely because he had much to atone for - and he wasn't altogether certain that he deserved forgiveness. Though he sincerely hoped that he did. However, he had recently come to realize that he needed to forgive himself as well. Because as things stood at present, he wasn't completely certain that he was a nice man either, despite years of believing otherwise.
After all, he had single-handedly destroyed multiple lives the day he had announced that he had no plans to wed Lady Diana, an event that had kicked off a multitude of other sins against his name. Ones that he was still paying for. Even though the woman he had initially hurt, Lady Diana, was now happily married to her Scottish marquess. And far more content than she ever would have been with a man like Adam. A man she had referred to as boring and staid on more than on occasion.
In fact, it was Diana's view of him that had caused Adam to act out in the first place.
If she hadn't referred to him as boring, he never would have tried so desperately to prove her wrong. Then again, if they had just talked to each other, none of this would have happened. On the other hand, if they had just talked to each other, they might likely have been wed by now - and that would have been an even bigger disaster for everyone involved.
And, moreover, Diana would have been utterly miserable. Because she and Adam were not suited to one another at all. But she was suited to Lord Lachlan McKenna, the man she had eventually married.
The morning after the incident with Lady Diana and Lord Hallstone had admittedly been one of his lowest points. Adam had awoken naked and confused in the bed of a whore he did not remember propositioning. Nor meeting. Nor anything much beyond storming out of the musicale after his confrontation with the earl. When Adam had stumbled out into the dim, gray light of morning and searched for a hackney to ferry him home, he was struck dumb to realize that he was in Whitechapel, one of the least desirable places in London. At that point, he knew that something had to change. Otherwise, he might meet the same fate that other dastardly lords before him had - his throat cut and lying dead in a gutter with no one any the wiser how he had come to be there.
Eventually and after much thought, Adam had blamed the punch at the musicale for his lack of memory. It had likely been spiked with something, for he did not knowingly ingest spirits of any sort. However he also recognized that was merely an excuse for his actions, but it did not excuse them. He had behaved badly and he had made the choice to go in search of a whore to warm his bed. Even though somehow he had warmed hers instead.
When the memory of his conversation with Lord Raynecourt had come crashing back to him later that same afternoon, Adam had he been even more ashamed of himself than before, but he was also sickened to the point where he could not even bear to look at himself in the mirror.
That night when he had been turned away from Lady Willingham's fête, he knew that he was in very big trouble. A trouble that even his title might not be able to save him from - at least not if he continued on the same path he was treading.
From that point on, Adam had vowed to himself to be a better man, but he hadn't really done much to further those goals. It was honestly just too much trouble. Oh, he stopped whoring about and no longer associated with women like Miss Banbrook, but that was about the extent of the changes to his life. He was, however, also far more careful about what he drank when he was at social gatherings of any sort, just to be on the safe side.
But he still mucked things up. Routinely. Because he couldn't ever quite bring himself to accept that he needed to change. And he hadn't truly cared either. Until the night that his mother and sister had almost been forced to leave an event because of his despicable actions. It was in that moment that Adam knew he couldn't go on the way he had been, for Mama and Sophia were the last two women in all the world that he wanted to see hurt. Especially by his own hand. Or in this case, actions.
After that, Adam had truly tried to change, but he found that after so much bad behavior, much of Society sincerely doubted that he even wanted to return to his old, and far more proper, ways. Still, he tried. He did everything within his power to make amends. He had thought he was making progress, albeit slowly.
Then the news of Selby's gambling debts had reached Adam's ears and he had, in the eyes of Society at least, acted badly once more. He had broken his sister's betrothal, causing everyone he knew - even his long-time friends - to consider him the worst sort of cad imaginable. After all, men might trifle with the affections of unrelated women, but the feelings of sisters and mothers were sacred. To hurt his sister that way was surely a sign that he was an utter disgrace. Or so the rumors went.
Now, Adam wasn't certain that he could actually recover from the scandal. Oh, he was a duke and there would be some forgiveness in time, but complete and utter acceptance once again? Unlikely. Not unless he confessed what he knew about Selby. And that he could not and would not do. For that would be taking the easy way out, and if nothing else, Adam did in fact believe that he needed to do some penance for his mistakes over the years.
So because of all of that and more, he could not precisely blame the duchess for her suspicions regarding him - and his intentions where Abigail was concerned, which had been remarked upon at least once that afternoon. Hence his being seated at the completely opposite end of the table from Abigail and next to the infernal - and simpering - Lady Josephine and her equally as annoying friend, Lady Florentina.
At the very least, Adam had hoped that he might be seated next to his mother, who was serving as a chaperone for Sophia, even though Mama wasn't speaking to him at the moment either. She was the one person he had attempted to confide in several nights previous regarding Selby and his gaming debts, but she hadn't been in any mood to listen. She still wasn't. Instead, when she saw him, she did nothing but rail at him for ending Sophia's betrothal and badger him endlessly regarding his handling of what she was now calling "The Lady Diana Affair."
Still, she wasn't completely not speaking to him, even if the only words she uttered in his direction were ones of scorn and annoyance. At least it was something. Better than the silence he received from most of the other guests here, and once more he wondered why he had even been invited to Fairhaven at all. Unless, of course, the party needed a court jester and he had been the man selected for the job. That, at least, made some degree of sense.
And it was a punishment he likely deserved. So Adam had made up his mind that he would sit here and do his best to act like the gentleman knew in his heart that he still was, and prayed that sooner or later, someone would forgive him - even the tiniest bit - for the incident with Lady Diana. She was happy. He was miserable. What more could these people possibly want?
Blood, it seemed, or at the very least a piece of his sanity since he was seated among three of the most foolish chits in all of the ton and an old woman with questionable hearing. Or so he had been told. He actually knew very little about Lady Huffton, other than that she had made a love match with her husband in an era when they were not common and she was now so wealthy that she could do and say as she liked, not giving a fig whom she offended in the process.
When Adam grew old, he rather hoped he could be like her. It would be...freeing.
And a lot less bothersome.
"Do you not agree, your grace?"
Adam looked up to see Lady Florentina batting her eyes at him as she clearly expected a response to something she had just said. And he hadn't heard a single word she had uttered in the las
t five minutes because he had been woolgathering. For a brief moment, he had the absurd notion that she looked like a myopic butterfly with all of the eyelash fluttering and bright, gaudy colors in her gown - not at all the thing for a proper and unwed young miss. Then he attempted to return to the topic at hand and knew he had to find some way to salvage the situation, lest he be thought a total bore on top of everything else ill that was said about him.
"Er, I am sorry, my lady" he apologized, for he was not about to open his mouth and insert his foot yet again. He already had enough to atone for. "My mind was wandering. House of Lords business that was not quite finished when we left London. My apologies. What did you ask me?"
That elicited a titter from Lady Josephine, though Adam didn't really wish to know why. He suspected that he would not like the response.
"I said that I am ever so thankful that light silver and light gold are now considered acceptable colors for gowns at Almack's. I have the sweetest new gown in mind for next season and I shall be ever so put out if I cannot have it done in either of those colors, preferably with some divine French lace and perhaps with a low cut bodice. From Madame LaVallier's, of course, at least if I can convince Papa to allow it. I think that the color change is ever so forward-thinking of the Patronesses. Do you not agree?" Then she fluttered her lashes at him again, so fast this time that he thought might be ill.
Dresses? Lace? His life was in shambles and these silly chits wanted to speak of such useless fripperies? He had nothing against women's gowns, certainly, though he cared more about how much bosom they revealed and how well they fit a young lady's curves. Or about how they looked on his bedchamber floor; he was still a man after all. He did not care a whit about color or lace or any of that nonsense. Except that he could not exactly say such a thing, else he would be viewed as even more of a cad than he already was. Oh, Lord. Would this night never end? Hell and blazes, anyway.
Still, an answer was required. He could not avoid it.
"I, ah, am afraid that I am terribly uninformed upon the subject," he finally managed and prayed that the subject would now be dropped. "My sister might be better able to speak to the issue than I." Even though Adam greatly doubted that since Sophia was never, even at her worst, as scatterbrained as these three women seemed to be on a regular basis.
That, however, was clearly the wrong thing to say. Not to mention that Miss Collins seemed to relish pouncing upon his every word as a cat would a mouse. "You, your grace?" Her eyes sparkled with something close to unholy glee. "Surely one so well informed on a wide variety of topics, such as yourself, would keep up with the latest news out of the bastion of civilization that is Almack's."
Damnable chit! She was deliberately trying to trap him, likely hearing rumors of how tongue tied he had been during his last few events of the Season. That, however, had been the direct result of both being unwelcome at those events and of questionable drinking practices. Tonight he had ingested nothing more than lemonade and his wits were still sharp. Adam might be many things, but he was not this young lady's pawn to be played with. Especially as she was the daughter of a second son, a man who had become a vicar and all but run his parish into the ground by stealing from the church coffers to support a lifestyle he thought himself entitled to because of his upbringing.
Just then, the thought that he needn't tolerate this sort of impudence zipped through him and he longed for the ability to say whatever he liked. He longed to be the man he used to be, one who could have put this insufferable chit in her place and not thought twice about it. He would be that man again. Starting now.
He, Lord Adam Hathaway, might not be a spy like Lord Candlewood, but he was still a duke, damn it all, and a man of influence. He knew where a great many bodies were buried, proverbially speaking. He had done his penance. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was time to stop feeling sorry for himself and begin to fight back. Just a little. Perhaps it was time to begin to take back his life. And to prove that he was not the man these people believed him to be.
"As I do not wear gowns, my lady, I fear that I do not feel as if I am qualified to speak upon the topic with any authority," Adam offered and was gratified when Lady Huffton, one of the few old tabbies in attendance at the house party, graced him with a small smile. She was sitting only a few chairs away and had been listening to the entire exchange with some interest. "Rather, I feel that all women are beautiful in their own way, regardless of what they wear. Though I am certain that if Almack's has made changes, then they are necessary." That was not precisely true in his opinion, but it sounded good and it earned him an even bigger smile from Lady Huffton.
For a moment, Miss Collins seemed taken aback, as if she did not quite know how to argue with a reasonable, well thought out reply. Adam thought she was likely secretly hoping for something more cutting from him. Or more scandalous. And, a few weeks ago, he might have offered such a remark. But no longer. It was simply one more result of his recognizing the need to change his behavior.
"But surely you have an opinion!" chirped Lady Florentina. "Why, this is one of the most important issues facing Society today! After all, Almack's sets the standards for dress that all we ladies must follow. It is a critical topic and I cannot believe that you are so ill-informed on the matter!"
That brought a snort of derision from Lady Huffton, who was, as Adam had thought, clearly old enough to do an say as she pleased. "Goodness, gel!" the old woman scoffed. "No wonder Old Boney almost defeated us! With that sort of thinking from your set, it's little wonder that we were able to mount a defense against him at all."
Lady Josephine quickly jumped to her friend's defense, clearly not recognizing the predatory gleam in Lady Huffton's eyes. The old woman was enjoying herself immensely. "It is important to take stock of the most pressing issues of the day, my lady," Lady Josephine retorted almost defiantly. "What sort of civilization would we be if we did not? After all, we are the leaders of the world! In everything!"
Adam hadn't noticed Lady Huffton's cane sitting beside her, but he did now as she thumped it on the floor - as did most of the other party guests. "With a younger set so full of fluff and nonsense, we will be the idiots of the world in short order!" she snapped. "Gowns and lace and such nonsense! In my day, we worried about more important issues like war and conquest, not this fashion rubbish. No wonder the country is all but falling apart. With ninnies like you three running about, God help us all. We shall surely fail as a country if the most important thing in your mind is the color of a blasted dress!"
Then, as if she hadn't said anything so shocking or scandalous, Lady Huffton turned back to her plate and cut into her venison with barely disguised relish, leaving Adam and the three young ladies - along with most of the rest of the dining room - in stunned silence. Thought when Adam did glance in the old dragon's direction, he noticed a rather self-satisfied look on her face and he suspected she had caused that scene on purpose. Though he could not for the life of him imagine why.
For a brief moment, Adam's eyes met Abigail's and she seemed to be gazing at him with some degree of sympathy. Or so he hoped. Even from this distance, he was certain that he could see understanding in her eyes. But perhaps it was a trick of the light. He could no longer be certain of anything. Then she looked away and turned back to Mr. Greer who was one of her dinner companions for the evening and laughed breezily at something he said. The moment broken, Adam turned back to his own dinner companions and hoped that all out war would not break out between the three young woman and Lady Huffton between now and the next course.
Thankfully, it did not, though after Lady Huffton's outburst there was not much that could be said - by anyone. The chatter at the other end of the table picked back up to some degree, but around Adam, there was only muted conversation on the most inane of topics like the weather. Given how hot it was outside, that subject had been discussed ad nauseum off and on for the last few days. There was little more that could be said on the issue.
Therefore when dinner was
concluded and the men and women separated for a brief time before the evening's parlor games, Adam was only too glad to escape the close confines of the dining room for the out of doors. This time, he headed in the direction of Lord Enwright's celebrated sculpture garden, which included a rare Roman carving of the goddess Diana that had been turned into a fountain in years gone by. It was the perfect place to take refuge as he doubted that anyone would think to look for him near a fountain that bore the same name as the woman he had so famously jilted.
Unfortunately for Adam, Lord Raynecourt found him rather easily anyway.
"That was something of a scene back there," Rayne began as he ambled up to where Adam sat staring into the darkness of the bubbling fountain. As was the custom at Fairhaven, every evening during the house party, lanterns had been lit along all of the garden paths so that guests need not worry about stumbling around in the dark on injuring themselves.
"Indeed." Adam continued to stare into the fountain, the dim light of the lanterns casting dancing shadows over the water as it bubbled and gurgled a whimsical tune.
After a few more moments of silence, Adam spoke again. "Was there something you wanted, Rayne?"
"Just to let you know that I'm impressed." He sat down beside Adam without being invited. "Let's just say that it takes quite a bit to get Lady Huffton to agree with a person. On anything. She clearly likes you. Otherwise, she would not have come to your rescue the way she did. Others are noticing as well. Perhaps this plan of yours to recover your reputation without revealing what you know about Selby has merit after all."
Adam made a derisive noise. "Like Lady Huffton, I was simply among those chits as a punishment and you well know it. Everyone knows it. Assigned seating and a duke is at the far end of the table? No, the woman was not rescuing me. She simply likes to stir the pot, I think."
The Kiss of a Rogue Page 11
