Redemption of the Duke (18 page)

Chapter 17

A
dam sank back in his big leather chair and linked his hands behind his head. He wasn’t
at all surprised that Faith had refused his offer of marriage. She was a proud woman
and thought he only pitied her. It would be a bit of a challenge, coming up with a
way to win her over—without telling her that someone appeared to know something in
her past. He would make sure she’d never even need to think about it again.

He had to convince her that the proposal was about her, and how he respected and desired
her, how well they suited. Yet, he also couldn’t let his family know about his secret
wooing. The challenge amused and inspired him.

Over the next few days, he made certain he was at every meal she was, being the genial
head of the household. At breakfast that first morning after his proposal, he thought
for certain she’d be full of blushes and unable to meet his gaze. But the opposite
happened. She was cool and polite, deferential as always, looking him in the eye as
if to say,
I have forgotten about last night, and soon you will, too.

But he wouldn’t forget. Marriage to her would not only make them both happy, but would
convince the anonymous blackguard that threats were useless, that Adam would never
give up Faith.

Besides meals, he appeared at calling hours to be with his mother and aunt, greeting
visitors, so he could look everyone over and see who might look too interested, perhaps
even guilty.

Occasionally, when he thought he could get away with it, he snuck a note into a book
Faith was reading, or into her sewing basket. They were notes to confirm that he was
thinking about her, that he wouldn’t forget what he’d asked. He never signed them,
of course, and if they were found, Faith could claim them from an anonymous suitor.
But he liked to see her blush when she found the notes and quickly hid them.

Once in the evening, his sister played while he sang, something he hadn’t done since
his youth. His mother and aunt looked pleased at the love song, Marian bored, and
Faith buried her face in her needlework. But he knew she was listening.

When they attended Society functions, he was forced to step back from his courtship.
He wanted to take her into his arms, to show the world she was his, especially that
Gilpin fellow, who drank too much and glared whenever he saw her.

They attended the Wallingford ball several hours’ carriage ride west of London, on
a massive estate that bordered the Thames. It was a crush of people, the first truly
warm day of spring making it unbearably hot. The odors of people, perfume, candles,
and gas lamps were overwhelming. But the dancing went on anyway, forcing the crowds
to press back toward the wall, several rows deep. Adam saw Faith shoved into a corner,
the perspiration that dotted her face, the misery she couldn’t quite hide. As a companion,
she never had a moment’s escape from the fringes of the ballroom.

And then suddenly he saw her begin to creep along the rear of the crowd, toward the
French doors that led to the terrace. Adam did the same from his side of the room,
nodding absently when people greeted him, making sure all knew he didn’t have time
to stop. Then he went down a corridor that led to the men’s card room, but turned
off it for another exit to the grounds that sloped down to the river. He knew the
layout of the mansion well, from long-ago house parties.

He felt almost like he was back in combat, his movements quiet as he kept to the shadows.
He followed the edge of the terrace, able to see couples strolling along its torchlit
perimeter. He slipped into the trees at the far end, and at last was able to see Faith
standing above the wide sweep of marble stairs that led down into the gravel paths
of the gardens.

Come to me.

He willed those words over and over again, and with only a glance over her shoulder,
she hurried down the stairs. Other couples strolled the paths, of course, so it was
tricky to find the right moment.

And at last she was momentarily out of sight of anyone else, and he emerged through
the trees, took hold of her hand, and pulled her after him.

“Adam!” she hissed, stumbling as she was forced to follow him into the dark.

He pulled her close to whisper in her ear, “I know where I’m going. Be patient.” He
tugged, and when she still balked, he said, “Do you want me to carry you?”

He couldn’t see her face, but imagined her frowning. In only a few minutes, they emerged
onto the lawn outside the main gardens. The ground angled toward the Thames, and he
could see boats, the lanterns hung on their prows bobbing like fireflies in the water.
With the house ablaze behind them, they had some meager light. Through the open windows
and doors they could hear the music—a waltz. He’d always wanted to dance with her.

He pulled her into his arms. “A well-bred girl such as yourself surely knows how to
dance.”

“Adam! I cannot dance with you!” Her words were soft and furtive, and she kept looking
back at the house.

“No one can see us, and if they do, we’re so far away they won’t know who we are.
Dance with me, Faith. I’ve wanted to dance with you at every event we attended.”

“We participated in the same quadrille once,” she reminded him.

“And we barely touched hands. I want you in my arms. One dance, Faith.”

She hesitated for a long moment, then said with great reluctance, “One dance.”

It was a glorious dance. He swept her away, with no other couples to interfere in
their progress. The feel of her supple back was magic beneath his palm. Her hand in
his was how it was meant to be. She danced beautifully, following his lead as they
circled about. He pulled her closer and closer, letting his thigh slide between hers
as they took the turns. Her head dropped back and they held each other’s gazes.

And suddenly he realized she’d be his if someone saw them. He was so close to having
her as his wife, it made him a little reckless. But then he knew he couldn’t do that
to her, give her a public scandal.

But perhaps there was another way to do it . . .

Faith’s cares and fears fell away at the magic of dancing in Adam’s arms. He was strong
and graceful, supportive and powerful. His hands guided her with the same feeling
as a caress. With every whirl of the dance, the light from the house played on different
sides of his face, lightening and darkening. And he was smiling through it all, with
almost . . . tenderness.

But she couldn’t believe that—didn’t
want
to believe that.

“Don’t pull away,” he said softly.

“I’m not.”

“But your expression is.”

She didn’t know what to say, and instead closed her eyes and simply . . . existed
within her body, in the sensations he aroused, the rhythms of the music. All the reasons
she shouldn’t be there faded away.

And then the music ended, and he caught her up against him, both breathing faster.
She stared into his eyes that glittered like starlight.

He let her go and bowed. “Thank you for the dance.”

She hesitated, but somehow the magic wouldn’t leave, and she sank into a deep curtsy.
“I’ve never . . . danced like that before,” she admitted, rising back up.

“Never? You are a gentleman’s daughter. Surely they had country assemblies in your
village?”

“They did, but . . . the waltz was scandalous in our remote north. Though I practiced
it, I’ve never danced it with anyone other than my dancing instructor. And you are
. . .”

“Far superior in both technique and grace?”

She bit her lip to hide her smile. “Taller.”

He winced. “A man has to do much to earn your praise. Won’t a marriage proposal do?”

Her smile faded, and she was surprised by the feeling of grief that welled up inside
her, grief for all the things she’d never have, a husband, children. “Oh, Adam, don’t
ruin this special dance.”

His eyes grew shuttered. “If you think happiness means ruination.”

She lifted up her skirts and ran, back through the trees bordering the gardens, hesitating
near the path to make sure she was alone, then reappearing, trying to walk sedately
toward the terrace.

It was hard to feel sedate when her heart was thumping madly, when she had just experienced
the most romantic moment of her life. No man had ever treated her the way Adam had,
and she experienced a moment of longing and regret.

Did she actually
want
to marry him, even though she knew she wouldn’t?

She might care for him, but that only emphasized her need to refuse.

W
hen they returned to London the next day, Adam was filled with purpose. He now knew
Faith would never willingly marry him, so he had to bring it about. He’d promised
he wouldn’t force her, and truly, he wouldn’t. The final decision would still be up
to her. He would just make it harder for her to refuse.

Only his family could be the ones to find them together, would make certain the scandal
wouldn’t go beyond Rothford Court. Maybe not even all of his family needed to be involved,
he mused. His aunt and his sister would be the most likely to be sympathetic, but
insistent that Faith and he needed to marry.

But try as he might, he couldn’t come up with a way to get Faith alone with him, and
still manage to have his family find them. He needed an accomplice, and who better
than Sophia, full of dreams of romance and happily-ever-afters? She admired Faith
and understood his connection to her.

After they arrived home that afternoon, he found his sister helping her maid unpack.
The maid bobbed a curtsy and left upon seeing him, and Adam strolled into the room
and closed the door behind him.

Sophia, standing over her trunk, gave him an amused glance. “This is an unusual visit.
I assume you need my help in a private matter?”

He smiled. “I’ve been asking Faith to marry me for a week, and she keeps refusing.”

Sophia froze, then her mouth slowly sagged open.

“That’s a better reaction than Faith’s,” he said wryly. “She snorted and laughed in
my face.”

Sophia winced. “Oh, Adam, I’m sorry. But I imagine she thought you were joking.”

“Maybe for a moment, but then she realized the truth. I’ve never met anyone who made
me imagine a future together before her.”

Her expression softened. “That’s quite romantic, dear brother.”

“She doesn’t think so. She thinks I’m doing it out of guilt or boredom—her words.”

“Are you? The guilt, anyway?”

He paused. “We met under those circumstances, and certainly, I will never forget what
I cost her, but I enjoy her, I’m attracted to her, and I believe we suit.”

“But, Adam, do you love her?”

“I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like, so I won’t lie and say I do. She says
we have no love, although she cannot deny there’s an attraction.”

Sophia pinkened. “Well, that might be more than I need to hear.”

His amusement faded. “I fear her concerns about our differences in consequence will
make her leave Aunt Theodosia’s employ. She might end up with another Warburton family
again, all in the name of pride.”

“You honestly think it’s pride?”

“I do. Pride and maybe fear, because after all, it’s not every day one becomes a duchess.”

“If you want my advice, all you can do is be patient.”

“I’ve been patient, I’ve been romantic. I’ve slipped her notes, I’ve sung to her,
I’ve danced with her under the moonlight.”

Her eyes widened. “Last night? That was quite daring. What if you’d been caught?”

He arched a brow.

“Oh, then she’d have had to marry you.”

“I didn’t dance with her for that reason, but it gave me an idea. Perhaps you and
Aunt Theodosia could catch us alone? That way any scandal wouldn’t spread beyond family.
I don’t want Faith embarrassed. I just want to be her husband.”

“I don’t know, Adam. It’s rather deceitful.”

“Do you have another suggestion? She’s going to risk going out on her own again, just
because she thinks she’s beneath me. I don’t care about a dowry or anything like that.
She’s a gentleman’s daughter, not a fruit girl, for God’s sake. Sophia, I need your
help.”

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin. “All right, I’ll do it. I like Faith, and
I think she’d be good for you. And I’d love another niece or nephew. Do you have a
plan?”

He took her hand and squeezed it in gratitude. “Tell me what you think.”

T
he next evening, the duchess and Lady Tunbridge were at a dinner, but Lady Duncan
decided to rest before her meeting the next day. Together they’d prepared a speech,
and Faith knew she’d be smashing. Adam had gone out, thank God, so she didn’t have
to avoid his intense gazes. Consequently, she was alone in the family drawing room
with only Sophia for company. The two women read books in peaceful companionship,
even though Faith thought Sophia had been acting rather . . . excitable during the
day. Even the fact that Mr. Percy visited during morning calls had not seemed to settle
her down. Maybe that was part of the problem, excitement that he’d missed her and
come to visit her—on the pretense of paying his respects to the duchess, of course.