Accidentally Compromising the Duke (7 page)

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 insisted 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.

No notion. She would be made to suffer the humiliation of vicious gossips for months, and the simplest act could revive it for years to come. But with him…there would be no intimacy or opening for sentiments. In fact, Edmond was resolved to stay away from her bed. But she would be a duchess.

Edmond grimaced. Was he truly the better choice?

…

Adel’s eyes were gritty, and she was unable to stop yawning. She had fled from the duke to her room but had been unable to sleep. Nor was she feeling brave enough to venture downstairs. She could not marry Wolverton or Lord Vale. She’d scribbled a hasty note and entrusted it to the maid assigned to her, to be delivered to Mr. Atwood with utmost discretion. The clock outside in the hall chimed, and she glanced down at the small pocket watch that belonged to her papa. It was almost time to meet Mr. Atwood in the orangery, if he had indeed received her directions. She was resolute in the way forward—they would have to elope.

There was a knock on the door but before she answered it was opened, and in strolled Evie.

Hurt tightened Adel’s throat. She had been unable to dwell on her closest friend’s betrayal. To see the ravages of tears and torment now in Evie’s eyes did not soothe Adel in any manner. Evie deserved to feel wretched, no matter how uncharitable it seemed. Adel forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath. “I never knew the Duke of Wolverton had offered for you.”

Evie already had red eyes filled with tears. She rushed forward and Adel jerked away. Evie faltered, then clasped her hands together. “I became aware of his offer only last night,” she said hoarsely.

“And you acted with wanton selfishness. Instead of rejecting his offer, you did everything to derail my chance at happiness.”

Evie flinched. “In my fear and panic I was thoughtless, and now I must suffer the consequences of losing the affections of my dearest friend. Please forgive me.”

“No.”

She gasped, but Adel remained unmoved. “I know why you did it.”

Evie paled.

Adel clasped her fingers together at her front to stop them from trembling. “You have been in love with the Marquess of Westfall since I made your acquaintance these two years past. The prospect of marrying anyone else must have been terrifying. But did you not see that you robbed me of the same opportunity of wedding the man I held affections for? Though I rail against it, I fear deep in my heart I must marry the duke, or my family will never be able to recover from such a mess. He is so unlike Mr. Atwood, I cannot see how we will have a happy—or even a slightly happy—situation. The duke’s charms upon closer acquaintance are sorely lacking. He is severe, cold, Evie.”

But his kisses are divine.
Adel ignored the traitorous reflections.

Evie’s face crumpled and silent tears streamed down her cheeks. “Westfall and Wolverton are the closest of friends.”