Redemption of the Duke (20 page)

“We have dozens of chaperones. Frankly, I don’t care what people think. For once,
I’ll rely on the fact that I’m a duke. You’re staying here, safe and protected.”

“Protected?”

“I don’t want people like the Warburtons to decide to use you.”

She wasn’t sure what he was implying, but she let it go. When he leaned in to kiss
her, she turned so that his lips touched her cheek.

He straightened, unperturbed. “Let me tell my family. I don’t want them to ever hurt
you again like they did tonight.”

“Adam, please don’t blame them for their understandable shock and anger. Promise me.”

“Very well, but only for you. My betrothed.”

She stared at him. “I . . . it already feels strange.”

“Not to me. You’ve made me happy.”

“I hope so, Adam,” she said softly. “I hope so.”

Adam was able to hold his smile until the door closed behind her, and his last glimpse
had been her bowed shoulders. She’d had to bear so much. He sank into his chair and
ran both hands down his face.

He felt ill, physically ill.

One reckless, arrogant decision he’d help make in India had changed so many people’s
lives. Good men had died, and one woman had sacrificed her innocence to survive. He’d
done this to her as if he’d sold her himself. He felt dazed with grief and confusion,
almost as much as when those men had died and the overwhelming knowledge of his part
in it had first become apparent.

First thing in the morning, he would call off Raikes, cancel his fact-finding search
about Faith before he learned the truth. He didn’t want anyone else to be able to
hurt his future wife.

She was so strong, and he admired her so much. She deserved better than someone as
flawed as he was, but he was too selfish to give her up.

W
hen Faith didn’t come down to breakfast, and Frances remained in the day nursery,
Adam stood at the head of the table in the breakfast parlor and faced his family.
They’d obviously been talking nonstop until his arrival, and now they looked at him
in silent suspense.

“Faith has agreed to be my wife,” he announced bluntly.

“No!” cried his mother, aghast.

Marian gasped, her expression one of outrage. Sophia and Aunt Theodosia exchanged
relieved glances.

“It took some persuasion after the way some of you behaved last night,” he continued.

“The way
we
behaved!” the duchess countered hotly. “She is a commoner, Adam! ‘Miss Cooper’—do
you not hear the laboring class in her name alone? Someone in the not-too-distant
past made
barrels
!”

“I don’t care about her ancestors,” he said, striving for patience. “I care about
her, and how I’ve treated her.”

“But the scandal!” Marian interjected.

He ignored her. “Mother, do you not remember how people reacted when Father married
you?”

She visibly flinched.

“You had little dowry to speak of—and Faith is the same.”

“Though it is unkind of you to remind me,” she said in a calmer voice, “surely you
have not forgotten that our happiness did not last long.”

“I hope that I have learned from those mistakes.” He knew a moment of uncertainty.
Did he really know how to make a woman happy—a woman he was
forcing
into marriage? “There was pressure from Father’s family, and I do not expect any
of that kind of pressure on Faith. Do we have an understanding?”

No one said anything for a moment, and then Aunt Theodosia rose and limped toward
him.

“Bend down, young man, so I can give you a kiss of congratulations.”

He did. “Thank you, Aunt.”

Sophia hugged him and whispered, “I’m so glad it worked out!”

He wasn’t quite sure it
would
work out, but he wasn’t about to say that.

F
aith came down late to breakfast, as Adam had requested, so she tried to tell herself
she wasn’t a coward. He wanted to send a tray to her room, but she’d refused.
That
would have been truly cowardly.

The footmen had been starting to clear the sideboard, but immediately backed away
with a bow. Did they already know?

She wasn’t all that hungry, but took some toast and hot chocolate. Just as she sat
down, the duchess entered.

Faith stood back up. “Your Grace,” she murmured, bowing her head.

“Miss Cooper.” Her voice was laced with scorn. She gestured to the footmen, who scurried
from the room and closed the doors behind them.

Faith stood awkwardly, unsure what to do.

“What can I give you to call this foolishness off?”

Faith stared at her. The duchess was trying to
bribe
her? “Ma’am, I begged not to marry him. But how would it look if I ran away? It would
look like I’d let him be dishonored.”

“How noble of you,” she said sarcastically.

“Whatever you may think, I care about him. I’ve made a commitment, and I will not
disappoint him.”

“Of course you will—how can you not?”

“Mama!” Sophia exclaimed from the doorway. “If you cannot be polite, then you should
leave.”

The duchess swept out on a cloud of indignation, and Faith sank back into her chair,
the toast no longer appetizing.

Sophia pulled up a chair. “I’m so happy you agreed to marry my brother!”

Faith gave her a faint smile. “Then you are the only one.”

“There’s Aunt Theodosia—and Adam. Adam is very happy, too.”

She had nothing to say about that, asking instead, “But what about your friend Lady
Emmeline? Will she not be terribly disappointed?”

Sophia sighed. “She will be, yes, but I never saw the match myself. I would never
have said that to anyone, because it wasn’t my business. Just like it wasn’t my business
to say that I could see there was something between you and Adam from the moment you
arrived.”

Secrets,
Faith thought. “I don’t know about that.”

“He told me about your brother’s death and how he felt responsible.”

Faith glanced at her in surprise. “Really? He didn’t tell me he’d discussed it with
you.”

“Are you upset?”

“Of course not. You’re his sister, and he should be able to talk to you.”

“Faith, just remember, sometimes good things happen for a reason.” She squeezed her
arm. “So when is the wedding?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t even discussed it.”

Sophia laughed. “Oh, don’t mind me. I have wedding on the brain. I am pleasantly envious
of you.”

“Please don’t be. You, too, will have your happy ending.”

“I will,” Sophia said with determination.

The rest of the day passed strangely, what with Adam giving her the present of a beautiful
ring, and then talking marriage settlements. She tried to say she didn’t want anything,
but he said how would it look for his duchess and children not to be taken care of
should something happen to him?

His duchess.
It seemed overwhelming and hard to believe—and that would make his mother the dowager
duchess, and Faith wasn’t all that certain she’d be happy about that, what with her
emphasis on her still youthful looks.

But the saddest thing was that Frances seemed to be avoiding her. Faith could only
hope that the little girl would get used to the change. If her mother would allow
it . . .

By the end of the week, Faith had gladly permitted Adam’s mother to take over the
wedding arrangements. She was relieved that her future mother-in-law was even interested.
The duchess and Sophia suggested the color of the wedding dress—pale pink—the dress
Sophia would wear as her bridesmaid, the actual date of the wedding, and when the
invitations would go out. And her new wardrobe—it took every bit of firmness Faith
had to insist that she didn’t need a full trousseau, that Sophia’s generous gift of
clothing was more than enough. She thought she might have earned a measure of respect
from the duchess with that one. Lady Duncan kept asking her privately if she had her
own opinions, but honestly, she didn’t. She was simply trying to use the time with
the duchess to form some kind of . . . acquaintance, if not a feeling of friendship
or family.

And in the evening, she felt Adam watching her, and it made her flustered and nervous.
They hadn’t even kissed since the engagement—she’d avoided any moments alone—because
she could not stop wondering what he expected from an experienced woman on their wedding
night.

Chapter 19

L
ate Wednesday afternoon, Faith was surprised to hear that she had callers. The wedding
invitations had gone out, of course, and there were many curious people coming by
every day. Most people were polite to her face, and she guessed that since they’d
never bothered to notice her as a lady’s companion, they had to satisfy their curiosity.

But callers specifically asking for her? She hurried down from her bedroom, entered
the public drawing room—and gave her first broad smile in she didn’t know how long.

“Charlotte! Jane!” she cried, hurrying to them.

They were standing awkwardly near one of the many sofas scattered throughout the room.
Jane kept glancing at the frescoes on the ceiling with guilt, as if she wasn’t supposed
to notice the splendid artwork.

She held Jane’s hand first, then reached for Charlotte, who looked at her as if she
expected her to be different.

“I’m so glad you came!” Faith said. “I’ve missed you terribly.”

“When you didn’t come last week, we were concerned,” Charlotte said coolly.

“I should have sent a note. I am terribly sorry.”

“And then we received our very own invitations to your wedding!” Jane said excitedly,
then settled down after a glance from Charlotte.

“I hope you will attend,” Faith said. “I was going to visit you both and ask if you’d
be two of my bridesmaids.”

Jane gasped aloud. “But . . . you will not mind my limp?”

“Of course she wouldn’t mind your limp,” Charlotte said, then frowned. “While that
is thoughtful, bridesmaids should be of your own age and station.”

“You are of my station,” Faith said softly. “Would you consider it? The duchess has
picked out lovely dresses.”

“You’ve bought us dresses?” Jane squealed.

Lady Tunbridge was in a far corner speaking to an elderly couple, and now she looked
up with a frown. Faith found herself not so intimidated by her anymore, so she simply
smiled and turned back to her friends.

“Please tell me you’ll stand up with me,” Faith said in a softer voice. “I am feeling
rather unworthy of all that is happening for a ducal wedding.”

“Do not ever think that!” Jane exclaimed, reaching to squeeze her hand.

Faith smiled. “Thank you for saying that, but how can I help it? I did not set out
to make this happen,” she assured them, glancing at Charlotte.

Charlotte sighed. “I did wonder at his attentions to you at the beginning. I am glad
to see they were honorable.”

And then Charlotte looked past Faith, and Faith turned around to see Adam coming into
the room, larger than life, shrugging his greatcoat from his broad shoulders. He was
as handsome as a fairy-tale prince, and everything felt even more unreal.

He came forward and bowed to each of them. “Ladies, it is so good to see you again.
Will you be attending our wedding?”

“We have both received permission, yes,” Charlotte said.

“Good. If necessary, I would have had a word with your employers myself.”

Faith was surprised when Charlotte actually blushed.

“They’ve agreed to be in the wedding,” Faith said, feeling her first true moment of
happiness in a long time.

Adam put his arm around her waist and she found herself hot and embarrassed.

“I’m glad you’ll be a part of our big day,” Adam told the women.

And then he discussed some of the details, which Faith was surprised he remembered.
She watched him put her friends at ease, even soothe Charlotte’s ruffled feathers.
He truly had a gift with people.

Seabrook announced Lady Emmeline’s arrival. Sophia, who’d just entered the room, went
right to her friend, but Faith felt as if the woman cast a dagger her way just with
her eyes.

Adam looked down at Faith and said regretfully. “I must greet her.”

“Of course.”

When he’d crossed the room, Jane whispered, “Why is that woman staring at us?”

“That is Lady Emmeline Keane,” Charlotte said. “I do believe there was talk that she
was destined to be the next Rothford duchess.”

“The duke never believed that,” Faith said, then winced. “Do forgive me. That sounds
defensive. Of course Lady Emmeline can feel disappointed.”

Whatever Adam said, Lady Emmeline nodded once or twice, not crying certainly, but
her dejection was plain.

“Come sit with us, dear,” Charlotte said, pulling her to a sofa. “Tell us more about
the wedding.”

T
wo nights later, just before the engagement party given by the duchess, Ellen was
helping Faith into the first new gown she’d had in honor of the wedding. Ellen, who
before the engagement had been more pleasant, had recently returned to her dour self.

At last Ellen stepped back, and Faith looked in the mirror. “Very nice, Ellen,” she
said, of the simple arrangement. “Lady Sophia offered me the services of her maid,
but it’s obvious I made the right choice.”

Ellen blinked at her. “But, Miss Cooper, I assumed, once you’re duchess, that you
would make other arrangements. I am certainly inexperienced compared to some.”

Faith turned from the mirror and smiled at her maid. “No, you and I have grown to
suit each other. If you don’t mind, I would like you to stay with me.”

Ellen’s slowly growing smile turned her plain face luminous. “Thank you so much, miss!”

As they continued to smile at each other, a knock vibrated the door. Ellen opened
it to find Frances standing there, looking over her shoulder and twisting her fingers
together.

Faith grinned. “Frances, please come in!”

Ellen departed and Frances closed the door behind her.

“I—I came to see your gown,” Frances said with hesitation.

Faith stood up and twirled, the six flounces on her magenta skirt rippling. The bodice
was cut straight across her shoulders, and Ellen had pinned a simple flower wreath
in her hair.

“You look beautiful,” Frances breathed.

Nothing could have made Faith feel happier. “I am so glad you approve.” She paused.
“I have missed seeing you this week.”

Frances screwed her face up. “I wanted to see you, too, to tell you I’m glad you’ll
be my aunt, but my mother . . . she makes things difficult.”

Faith approached and gave her a hug. “I’m so sorry for that. I never want to make
things worse for you. You do what you need to, to keep your mother happy, and I’ll
know that we’re friends, even if we can’t see each other much yet. I’m confident that
will change soon.”

Frances smiled up at her. “I hope so!”

Faith walked downstairs feeling a small return of the optimism that had faded fast
after Charlotte and Jane’s visit.

Adam was waiting for her outside the public drawing room, and he drew her down the
corridor to the private one. “You look utterly ravishing.”

“Thank you,” she said, casting down her gaze. It was hard to look at him and not be
dazzled. She was soon to marry this man. It all seemed frightening and unreal most
of the time.

“Did you finally take my advice about Ellen?”

“No, tonight I informed her she’d be the lady’s maid to a duchess, and I couldn’t
have made her happier.”

To her surprise, he frowned as if this was serious.

“Adam?”

“No, it’s nothing. Now tell me whatever you’ve done to bewitch my mother. I need to
know for future reference.”

She gave him a reluctant smile. “I simply let her do whatever she wanted.”

“I don’t think she’d ever find a more accommodating daughter-in-law.”

And without any warning, he leaned down to kiss her, capturing her mouth before she
had a chance to deflect, as she’d been doing the last week. And suddenly she couldn’t
remember why she’d been deflecting. They kissed with passion and urgency and anticipation,
and for a moment, it was so easy for her to forget all her concerns.

At last Adam was the one to pull back, but only enough to press his forehead to hers
as he caught his breath. “I had almost forgotten how wonderful this is between us.”

She stared into his blue eyes, so close to her own. Would it
stay
wonderful?

He straightened and held out his arm. “Come, it’s time to meet the public.”

She shuddered. “Not something I’m looking forward to. Our callers this week already
ran the gamut of every reaction to our engagement. I can only imagine tonight will
be even more magnified.”

“Then let them see our happiness and be envious.”

She gave him a nervous smile and let him lead her to the drawing room. The next hour
did see every emotion: censure, laughter, jealousy, curiosity. Faith learned to ignore
the negative and appreciate the rare positive reactions, the people who thought Adam
had never looked happier, or who thought the Rothfords needed some livening up.

Her biggest concern—that Timothy would attend even though he hadn’t been invited—gradually
faded. Lady Emmeline had to be there, of course, and it was strange to watch Adam’s
friend Lord Shenstone remaining at her side, consoling her even as he sent angry glares
Adam’s way. Faith asked if Adam knew what was wrong with his friend, but all he did
was shake his head, mouth grim. Faith prayed she would not be the cause of their friendship
disintegrating.

Sophia was still going on with the fiction of being pursued by Lord Shenstone, so
she, too, was forced to be a part of their unhappy threesome. More than once, Faith
saw Mr. Percy looking on just as unhappily, and finally she went over to talk to the
man.

He bowed. “Miss Cooper, you look very happy tonight.”

“Surely you’re being kind, sir. I feel far too nervous to look happy. It is rather
overwhelming to be a part of such an important family.”

He nodded gravely, and she hoped he was thinking of what it would be like were it
him.

“But I find that most everyone has been welcoming to me,” she continued, “and the
change, although drastic, is not as important as the relationships I’ve formed.”

He gave her a sideways glance of amusement. “You are not very subtle, Miss Cooper.”

She sighed and smiled. “No, I’ve never been accused of that. And I know your attachments
are none of my business. But . . . you and I are not that different.”

“We are very different, Miss Cooper. Your husband will be a duke. Lady Sophia deserves
and needs a husband of high rank, too.”

And then he bowed and left her, and she felt like an interfering fool. Who did she
think she was to give advice—the duchess?

A
s the musicians readied the waltz, Adam found his betrothed and took her away from
his sister. He leaned down to say softly, “At last you and I will dance in public.”

He found he liked Faith’s blushes, especially when they were about him. More and more
all he could think about was how near her room was to his each night. But he knew
she’d have a poor reaction to even the hint of another scandal, so he stayed away.

But here, in front of all of Society, he was able to hold her close, feel the tremble
of her nervousness by his hand on her back, and his other hand encompassing her own.
He whirled her into the dance, and saw the moment she realized people were standing
back to watch them.

“Adam,” she began tentatively.

“Don’t pay any attention to them. Just look at me and remember we will show them how
happy two unlikely lovers can be.”

She nodded, but there was no true happiness in her eyes, and he knew he’d have to
work hard to see it grow there. He was ready for the challenge.

As they waltzed, he hoped he’d shown the anonymous blackguard that he didn’t care
about rumors or empty threats. It had been three weeks since he’d received a note.
He hadn’t sent Faith away—he was marrying her and wouldn’t be dissuaded.

Anyone at their engagement party could be the one holding a grudge against him, powerful
enough to make the person discover Faith’s past and try to use it against Adam. And
of course, there was Gilpin, who wasn’t in attendance, but was one of the suspects
who was angrier with Faith than Adam. It was frustrating to have this hanging over
his head, with nothing concrete to take to the Metropolitan Police.

And then there was Shenstone. Adam wished he understood what was going on with his
friend, if Shenstone really could be so upset with him that he’d threaten an innocent
woman. Such a “prank” might be something Shenstone would do once on a drunken whim,
but could he really have continued? And why—because he was upset Adam didn’t contact
him immediately on arriving in England? Upset they were no longer drunken compatriots
at every gaming hell in London night after night? Adam was trying to forge a better
life for himself, and instead of supporting him, Shenstone was flirting with Sophia
to annoy Adam—and maybe trying to sabotage his marriage with threats.

He gritted his teeth as he watched Shenstone say something to Sophia—and her look
of misery. What the hell was he trying to do?

“You don’t look happy,” Faith said as the dance ended. “I don’t even think you were
aware you were dancing with me.”