by Stacy Reid
Adel inhaled at the flutter of warm sensations that erupted in her stomach and her heartbeat quickened uncomfortably. That barely-there smile had rendered him charming, approachable.
“You are so kind and honorable, Your Grace. I…we…” Lady Margaret inhaled.
Adel winced at her stepmother’s emphasis. Nothing in the duke’s mien indicated he was aware of her subtle pressure.
“Thank you for receiving me on such short notice.” His tone was so bland and polite; Adel struggled to guess what he was actually feeling.
His wintry gaze scanned the room and settled on her father. “You are no doubt aware of why I am here, Sir Archibald. Shall we speak alone?”
Anger stirred in Adel. She was mightily tired of her life being decided for her. “No.”
The caress of his eyes slid over her like a sharpened blade, then he lowered his lids and dismissed her.
It stung.
“By all means,” her father said.
“You will have to bodily remove me, Papa. It is my future we are discussing and I should be a part of it,” she announced decisively.
Chapter Six
“Are you here to offer for our daughter?” Lady Margaret asked, no doubt anxious to get to the heart of the matter.
Adel gasped, and all eyes swung to her. This was all going dreadfully wrong. Of course the duke would not offer for her, she had nothing to recommend her for the lofty title of duchess. She’d had her first come out the year after her mother died, and in the three years since, only two young men had called on her and only Mr. Atwood had remained constant. Lord Vale was an anomaly and he’d not courted her. He’d stared, accidentally grazed her breast when no one looked, made suggestive whispers, and then attacked her. What made her stepmother believe the duke would do something so utterly implausible?
“Yes,” he said.
Shock stabbed through Adel. “What?”
“You will do the honorable thing?” her father asked faintly.
The duke strolled to the sidebar and lifted the crystal from the decanter. He poured a golden liquid into a glass, then faced her father. “Most assuredly. In fact, I believe it wise if Miss Adeline and I were to wed as soon as possible, Sir Archibald.”
This was so unexpected she felt faint. Adel’s mouth went dry, and she was certain there was some misunderstanding. “Your Grace,” she finally said very carefully, “You wish to make me your duchess?”
It seemed as if everyone in the library braced for his response.
“Yes.”
“Good heavens,” Lady Margaret breathed and gripped her husband’s arms, as if seeking support from swooning. “A very sensible arrangement, Your Grace. Your sense of honor does you credit.” She bobbed her head so vigorously the high purple turban with the plume feathers attached was in the precarious position of falling.
Adel was too stupefied to do anything but stare at the duke.
“Leave us,” he commanded to the room at large. “I wish to have a few words with Miss Adeline.”
Irritation bubbled in her when her stepmother and father bowed and scrambled out. Lord Gladstone nodded and he too made to depart.
They were leaving her alone with the man?
“Your Grace, please—” Her teeth snapped together at the gentle closing of the door. She closed her eyes for precious seconds. “You cannot wish to marry me.” For some reason she had believed he would refuse her father’s demands, not that he had even given Papa the chance to bluster. The duke did not seem like a man easily intimidated.
His eyebrow lifted slightly. “I do.”
She searched his gaze frantically, and found nothing but sincerity. “But why?” she spluttered.
“You were found in my bed, and I had been seconds away from drawing you underneath me and stealing your virtue,” he said so dryly they could have been discussing the weather.
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “There is no need to be so explicit,” she countered staunchly. “And my virtue was never in any danger.”
“Even if our encounter has somehow slipped your memory, I am sure you remember our host and hostess discovering us.”
He said it as if they had conspired to have a clandestine rendezvous. She narrowed her eyes. “I feel compelled to point out I was in the middle of the room when Lady Gladstone entered.”
Provoking amusement lit his eyes, then disappeared so swiftly she wondered if she had imagined it. “We are compromised and therefore we must marry. I will not tarnish my honor by walking away.”
Though he said the words lightly, instinctively she recognized that being honorable was important to him. But how could he commit to something as permanent as marriage for honor? How could Adel consent when a man who loved her was probably eagerly waiting to speak with her? She was clasping her hands so tightly together her fingers hurt. “You do realize I believed you were someone else.”
He prowled closer, his expression inscrutable. “Did you?”
She swallowed, taking small retreating steps away from him, desperate to maintain a particular distance between them. “Yes. A Mr. James Atwood. We are close in temperament and age, not that I am saying you are old, Your Grace.” Heat burned her and she was sure her face was as red as the lobster she had eaten earlier. “Mr. Atwood… Ahh…he offered for me, but my father said no. It was his chamber I had intended to enter.”
The duke frowned briefly. “I have a clear memory of you telling me I felt harder, tasted sweet, that you felt hot and wet. I put forth the argument you knew I was not your young Mr. Atwood, Miss Adeline.”
The bloody scoundrel! It was not the mark of a gentleman to so baldly and arrogantly remind a lady of her lapse in judgment. Worse, she was alarmed at the possibility that he was right. “You are mistaken, Your Grace,” she said frostily.
The dratted man smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “You knew I was not Mr. Atwood the instant you touched me.”
Her head swam with the humiliating truth of his words. She hadn’t been sure. But he couldn’t know…could he? The minute she had tumbled into his powerful frame, the masculine fragrance of sandalwood and a cologne she had never smelled before had wrapped around her senses, confusing her. In desperation she had reached out, feeling and caressing, and had been met with a hardness that surprised and enthralled her. She had wondered how it was possible for the very slim and elegant Mr. Atwood to feel so male. Awareness had bloomed, but she had ignored the doubt, insisting it was nerves and too much liquid courage.
Evie and Adel’s plan had not even intended her to kiss Mr. Atwood, only to be caught standing in his chamber. But she had kissed this man, and she had known without a shadow of doubt she had sneaked into the wrong bed. The curious desire that had blazed in her blood had been alarming and wonderful. How utterly foolish she had been.
“I have no notion of what you speak. You are kind in making your generous offer, but I cannot marry you,” she whispered, sickened with the awareness of how easily she had been inconstant. She needed to see Mr. Atwood right away.
The duke’s mien shuttered even more. “You are ruined and your current state can only be rendered respectable by marriage.”
Ruined. She trembled and his silver gaze sharpened. In that moment he looked like a predator and her heart started a slow thud. Why did he want to marry her? He was not even offering a token of resistance. Shouldn’t the duke be insisting he would not bind himself to a lady with so little to recommend her?
“Why do you wish to marry me?” It’s the mad duke. The whispers from the hallway crowded her thoughts. “Are you the man the ton calls the mad duke?”
Anger flickered in his gray eyes, and a chilling smile formed on his lips. She was at a loss as to how she had thought him charming and approachable. The man before her stood cloaked in cold ruthlessness. Uncertainty gripped her in a powerful hold. “Forgive me for being thoughtless and impertinent.”
“It is one of the names I’ve been called.”
He was clearly not afflicted.
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“If we are discussing marriage, yes.” What was she saying? Surely she was not even thinking on his ludicrous proposal. She knew nothing of this man but a sobriquet, and was certain Mr. Atwood awaited her.
The duke’s brows lifted and irrationally she wanted to step closer to him, tip on her toes and trace his slashing brows. Maybe even massage the lines on his forehead that indicated he had cause to frown often. She couldn’t do this. “You know nothing of my character, nor I of yours.”
“I value honesty above all else.”
“I…I…” She frowned. She had simply been making a point, not seeking his finer qualities.
“Whatever right I have to happiness I receive from being in my daughters’ presence.”
Her heart lodged in her throat. “You have children?”
“Yes.”
“I…I…what are their names, their ages?”
“Lady Sarah is six years and Lady Rosa is nine.”
It was impossible for Adel to speak. When had their mother died? Who was now caring for them? Were they happy? The crushing pain and loneliness she had endured when her mother passed reared its head.
“I will have your answer, Miss Adeline. I do not have all night to linger over your indecision and lack of concern for your reputation.”
The retort strangled in her throat. He was insufferable, but it seemed the duke truly wanted to marry her. “I am sure, Your Grace, you see how shocking your…your…offer is. You are a duke and I…” She swallowed past the lump that had somehow formed in her throat. What was she? A simple lady with simple pleasures not made for the grandiosity of being a duchess. “I have nothing to offer you, no dowry or suitable connections.”
“Once again you are overlooking the obvious, we must marry.”
Adel winced. She had little option but to say yes to his proposal. “I never imagined I would have a grand love story. But I at least thought there would be some affection between me and my husband. Some common interest…a spark of something deeper than duty and obligation to society’s judgment,” she said softly.
The man before was so aloof, she wondered fleetingly if it had been someone else in the dark. She did not believe he even liked her.
“It is tempting to offer you false flattery to save you from your foolhardy actions, but I despise deceit. I will not promise you tender sentiments. All the love I had to give is buried six feet beneath the earth, in the family vault in the churchyard of our parish church.” His tone was autocratic and unrepentant. “People marry for duty, for material considerations and for offspring. If you are naive enough to want a marriage based on love, please walk away from my offer and face society’s derision and scorn with your Mr. Atwood. I have endured torment and loss, and its bitter taste is one I have no wish to suffer ever again. The false illusion of love I will not offer you.”
The slow thud of her heart was painful. The duke’s words were so cold and emotionless. Adel firmly believed a couple closely aligned must fall deeply into tender romance. Even her father and Lady Margaret appeared besotted at times.
“It must be terribly lonely to have such beliefs.”
“Yet I am quite contented.”
Was he not at all affected by her impulsiveness? Did he not rail that he would no longer wed Evie? “And Lady Evelyn?”
He arched a brow. “I have already surmised Lady Evelyn is the reason you entered my chamber in error.”
Adel could not refute the truth of his words. They were standing distressingly close, yet Adel was unable to withdraw from his false comforting warmth. “Then what do you offer, Your Grace?”
“I offer you your own home and my name, Miss Adeline.”
Yearning struck her in the stomach, thick and undeniable. A family…of her own, and she would be a duchess, more powerful than a countess and be positioned to aid her younger sisters. But surely Wolverton must think her beneath his ilk.
“I offer you power and wealth. I will promise you faithfulness, the protection of my name and title.”
“But not the more tender sentiments.”
“Yes.”
“You would consign us to a cold union.”
“I would save your reputation, give you a life of privilege you can only imagine, and in turn you will provide a comforting presence for my daughters.”
Oh. “And will you allow me to comfort you when needed?” She had no idea where the provocatively bold thought came from, but he seemed too reserved. She felt a fleeting sense of triumph that she had pierced his armor when shock flared in his gaze before he lowered his eyes…to her lips.
A curious heat filled Adel. Was he perhaps thinking of kissing her? As if he had heard her wanton thoughts he dipped his head even further. The duke visibly shuddered and the reaction was quiet enthralling. “Why do you tremble?”
A soft curse hissed from him, and she blushed at the vulgarity.
Chapter Seven
“Your utterances, Your Grace, are ungentlemanly.”
“Censure from a young lady that climbed into a man’s bed with flagrant disregard for society’s expectation… bloody hell,” Edmond incised quite deliberately.
She stared at him in ill-concealed shock. “You disapprove of me.”
Earlier he had spoken at length to his host and hostess, and despite Lady Gladstone’s anger, she had previously thought Miss Adeline a sensible young lady, a good friend, and companion to her daughter. A better man than he would have felt guilty for taking advantage of her embarrassing situation, but he’d never deluded himself as to being good. “Forgive my rudeness,” he said, stepping even farther away. “I do not.”
Her eyes were widened, and her face was flushed becomingly. Too becomingly.
He would have to be ruthless in guarding his response to this female. If he were to marry her and keep his sanity, there would be no more kisses or talks of her providing comfort. Though he had belatedly realized she had not meant the comfort of being buried deep inside of what he knew would be the tightest sheath.
Her spine snapped straight, stretching the thin muslin of her dress across her ample but well-shaped breasts. He gritted his teeth and turned away, disgusted with his lack of restraint. He strolled to the door and braced his forehead against its frame. What was he doing? The feelings she had stirred inside him, the spark of interest to learn her likes and dislikes was bloody unwelcome. So why was he still pressing his suit? She is unwilling. He should let her go to face the consequences of her actions.
His heart twisted. It startled Edmond to realize he cared. The idea of society cutting her had fury surging in his gut. Miss Adeline had no notion of what it was like to walk into a ballroom and know that everyone present whispered about her. A simple stroll down the street or a ride in Hyde Park would have onlookers desperate to gawk. Then a flurry of voices would rise, as they rehashed every perceived infraction, until whatever they gossiped about traversed embellishment and became laughably ridiculous.
It’s the mad duke of Wolverton. The whispers had been unceasing. He doubted many even knew why he’d been given the moniker, and it had taken very little for it to be assigned. After all, the ton could not comprehend a union made because of genuine sentiments. Edmond had loved his wife, and he had been mocked for making a rare love match. He’d doted on her…and even his friends had tried to encourage him to take a mistress. He’d retreated to the country with Maryann to raise their children, and it was hinted that he had departed his common sense.
Dukes and duchesses did not raise and nurture their own brood. Nursemaids and governesses did. Yet his Maryann had refused all offers of assistance, bathing her own babes and even insisting on feeding them herself, which had scandalized Edmond’s mother.
When his wife had died, because of him…how he had grieved and railed, how the pain had tormented him for months, which is why he had shunned society and frivolous diversions. Because society and his friends had not been able to understand, they ins
isted he was mad. Vapid insufferable fools. A mockery of a smile twisted Edmond’s lips. Mayhap he was indeed a madman to even contemplate taking a woman so scandalously bold and improper, yet so frustratingly enticing.
Perhaps he should enter the marriage mart and try his hands at wooing some blushing debutant once more. Bile rose in his throat as his heart instinctively rejected the idea. It would be hypocritical to go through all that smiling, caressing, and dancing to court another woman. He would never let that be a part of him again. That part was long dead, and he hardly believed it could be resurrected. The pain of losing Maryann and his son had been gut wrenching and inescapable.
Perhaps despite her appeal it was damn fortunate Miss Adeline had climbed into his bed and saved him from the farce of the marriage mart.
“Your Grace?”
He pushed away from the door and faced her.
“I would speak with Mr. Atwood first.”
Edmond bit back a short oath. “I would not dream to stand in the path of true love,” he said with sarcasm.
Her expression grew cautious. “Then I may leave?”
“If you insist you would prefer to wed Mr. Atwood, I urge you to go to him. Your father will be eager for you to form any alliance, to stem the tide of gossips that will swirl around your name for months to come. A hasty marriage will be in your best interest.”
She looked briefly disconcerted at that pronouncement, and then she smoothed her features. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said softly.
He inclined his head and she rushed from the library as if the devil were nipping at her heels. In truth, Edmond had to admit he must seem quite like the devil right now. He knew very well what Mr. Atwood’s reaction to the rumors already spreading like wildfire would be.
In the short span of time it had taken him to dress and meet Lord and Lady Gladstone in the drawing room, from the whispers he gleaned Miss Adeline had long been his mistress and might now already be carrying his child.
Good God, the lady had no idea what he had tried to save her from.
