Julianne MacLean (16 page)

“A
re you all right?” Damien asked, sounding genuinely concerned as he led her onto the dance floor.

He held out his hand. Adele stepped into position, and the waltz began. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Did you pull that answer out of your sleeve, Adele?
I’m fine, thank you
. Honestly. I know you’re angry with me about what happened that last day at Osulton, and I wish you would just tell me 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 in 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 the steam out. 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’s start again, Adele. Please. How have you been?”

She followed him through a sideways turn. “I’ve been better.”

“I would presume 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’s 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. I am a complete scoundrel, and I did drag you down with me.”

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 and slowly. “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, haven’t I?”

“In a way. 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. She was not.

“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 made 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 I have an urgent need for money.”

“Everyone has heard it.”

The waltz finally did come 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’m concerned for her.”

“Like I was concerned for Harold?”

Adele narrowed her gaze 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 own weaknesses. There will always be resentment.”

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 very 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 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 his arms, but he did not return her to her mother right away.

“I hope,” he said quietly, “that we’ll 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.”

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 here and now 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 obligation. So she kept her decision to herself. Damien would learn of it soon enough.

D
amien stood alone in the corner of the ballroom reflecting on everything he had just said to Adele, and 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 would 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 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 Baron 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 haven’t 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?”

“It is indeed,” the duke replied.

Another moment of silence ensued. Whitby finished his drink. “I believe I see an old acquaintance,” he said. “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 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? Not 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 toward 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 Beatrice. 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.”

Damien glanced briefly at Wentworth, and nodded again. Wentworth held no drink. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching Damien’s face. “But you know about that,” he said with a faint smile.

Damien, somewhat unnerved, faced forward again.

For a long time they stood together, saying nothing, until Damien felt the duke’s intense gaze turn to him once more. “You’ve met my sister, as well. Lily.”

“Yes.”

“I saw you dancing earlier.”

Damien was beginning to feel as if the duke had eyes in the back of his head.

“She’s a lovely young woman,” Damien said. “You must be proud.”

“I am indeed.”

Damien felt the duke’s probing gaze upon his profile, then at last he looked away. “I must return to my wife. She’s expecting me for the next set.”

Raising his glass to the duke, Damien said, “It was a pleasure, Wentworth.”

“Likewise. Good evening, Alcester.” With that, he took his leave.

Damien also turned and walked out. He was more than ready to leave, for he had just been sharply and perceptively evaluated by a man who seemed to know far too much. Damien
might as well have spilled his guts onto the floor.

Shortly after the duke had approached Damien, Violet approached Lily.

“Are you having a good time?” she asked, checking inside her sparkling, beaded reticule to see if she had brought a fresh pair of gloves. She had. She snapped it shut and smiled. “I saw you dancing with my cousin.”

“Lord Alcester? He’s a very good dancer.”

Violet grinned mischievously and raised an eyebrow. “A good dancer? That’s not what most women would say about Damien.”

Lily gazed uneasily up at Violet. “No?”

Violet snickered. “No. Most would use the word ‘handsome,’ or ‘virile.’” She nudged Lily. “Don’t tell me you haven’t fallen for him. He’s the catch of the Season.”

Lily merely smiled.

“He likes you,” Violet said. “I could tell by the way he was looking at you. But you’re so pretty, how could any man not fall in love with you, Lily? What do you think of him?”

“Damien?”

“Yes, of course, Damien!”

Lily swallowed uncomfortably. “I think he’s very nice.”

“Yes, he is.” Violet linked her arm through Lily’s. “Oh, darling, how I would love for us to be like sisters. If you married Damien, we would be. Damien knows Whitby. They seem to have become friends lately. What a grand four
some we would make. We could go places together and—oh, it would be just stupendous.”

Lily gazed up at Violet, who was very tall. “You’re going to marry Whitby?”

“Well, nothing’s official yet, but it will be soon, I’m certain. He’s magnificent, don’t you think?”

Lily gazed across the room to where Whitby was standing. She knew exactly where he was. She did not give her opinion.

“He’s close to the duke, I understand,” Violet said.

“Yes. He and James have known each other since they were boys.”

Violet took in what looked like an exceptionally fulfilling breath. “Whitby and the Duke of Wentworth. I will enjoy being welcomed into your circle, Lily. We will have such fun together.”

“Yes, I’m sure we will.” Lily gazed across the room at Whitby again, who was helping the aging, gray-haired Countess of Greenwood rise from her chair. Lily rested her hand on her stomach. She felt slightly ill. But she had always known this day would come.

She decided at that moment that this would be her last ball of the Season. She was not enjoying herself. She wanted to go home to Yorkshire, to the country. She would leave London in the morning.

That night, Adele lay in bed staring at the ceiling and thinking of her future. She could not marry Harold. That much was obvious. Which meant she was going to have to break the news to
her sisters and her mother, then she would have to explain her decision to Harold. None of it would be easy, but it had to be done, so she would do it, and she would be brave in the aftermath.

Tomorrow
, she decided with firm resolve. She would tell everyone tomorrow.

But what then? She rolled over onto her side and gathered her pillow in her arms. She did not think she could remain in London. She did not want to hear about Damien proposing to Lily. She did not want to think about him kissing her, or touching her the way he had touched Adele in the teahouse. Nor could she bear the possibility that she might learn too late that she had been wrong about him, and then have to watch while he turned out to be a perfect husband.

So she would go home to America. She would start again, careful this time not to put herself in the position of trying to please everyone but herself. She would not make that mistake again. She would carve out a life of her own and think about what
she
wanted. If she was lucky enough to marry, it would be for love, nothing less. She would find a man she could feel passion for, as well as trust and respect.

Or perhaps she would consider a career of some sort. Something to do with horses. What would her father think of that?

Adele closed her eyes and thought about what she would say to everyone tomorrow. She predicted that her mother was going to need some very strong smelling salts.