Chapter One
ENGLAND, 1817
PEMBINGTON HOUSE, WILTSHIRE
The cold press of keys in Lady Adeline’s palm, and the knowledge of why they had been so surreptitiously given, made her feel decidedly wicked, a state she was experiencing for the first time in her twenty-one years. Anticipation and nerves cascaded through her in equal measure at the notion of acting in a manner that was improper, potentially ruinous, and without any doubt, utterly scandalous.
Tonight she would decide her own future—an acknowledged extraordinary feat—and take a very bold step to ensure the gentleman she would marry was the man she deeply cared for and respected—Mr. James Atwood, and not the man who had attacked her, taking liberties he had no right to—the Earl of Vale.
“Thank you,” Adel said softly to her dearest friend, Lady Evelyn—Evie to her close intimates. Adel was grateful she had someone assisting her in this escapade; surely her nerves would have deserted her if she acted alone.
Evie leaned in close. “Remember, I will arrange for mother to enter his chamber very soon.”
Adel nodded. “How will you convince her to intrude on Mr. Atwood’s privacy?”
“I urge you not to worry about the how. I know Mamma, and with a few whispers, I will make certain the chamber doors are opened at the opportune moment,” Evie said, her voice trembling with excitement. Or mayhap it was trepidation?
Adel buried a groan, flicking an invisible piece of lint from her light green gloves. “This plan of ours smacks of recklessness.”
An unladylike snort sounded. “Do you want to be the Countess of Vale?”
Not even if she was to be drawn and quartered. The earl was a repugnant reprobate, and a conceited ass. She would much prefer a quiet life in the country with a man she liked and respected, than the pomp and ceremony of being a countess to a man she loathed. Adel was in possession of two exquisite younger stepsisters whom she adored, who would benefit at their debuts, if Adel was a countess. Even with that added incentive, it was distressing to imagine a life as Lady Vale.
“No, I want to be Mrs. Atwood.” Though Adel felt no shivering excitement at the prospect, there was a distinct appeal of being the lady of her own home. She’d no longer live by the capricious whim of her stepmother, and best of all, never have to endure another year of a failed season.
“Then let’s dispense with the fear,” Evie said with an encouraging smile.
Adel cared little for society’s censure and opinions, being so far removed from the heart of the ton, spending most of the year in Somerset at her father’s modest but well-kept manor. However, Mr. Atwood had remarked on more than one occasion, the value he placed on high society’s opinion. “What if Mr. Atwood is outraged at my lack of propriety? When I suggested we elope, he adamantly and most earnestly refused.”
Evie gripped her hand. “He wants to marry you, very much, and if you do not act, you will endure a lifetime of pain as the earl’s wife. I would daresay you and Mr. Atwood will be the only love match of the season, and a few gossips should not prevent such a union . It is not as if you have any intention of making your permanent abode in London. From my experience gossip in the country is nonexistent. I implore you, though, to ensure you are not in a terrible state of dishabille. We want a bit of a stir, not a full blown scandal.”
Adel scowled. “Now is not the time to use ‘full blown’ and ‘scandal’ in the same breath. And I have no intention of moving from the door. We only need a hint of impropriety to convince Papa, and I daresay the very notion of me being on the threshold of Mr. Atwood’s chamber is enough. I am a bit anxious at how my actions will affect Helena’s debut.”
Evie plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing footman and handed Adel one. “Your sister is fourteen. She has two more years before facing the gauntlet of the marriage mart. Even if there is a slight stir, it would certainly be squashed by then. With her beauty, the beaux of the ton will be very agreeable and forgiving.”
Adel sighed. “Very well. Onward with our plan.”
Evie gave her an approving look, then with a wink, she darted away.
Adel turned toward the large potted palm to her left, and with the utmost secrecy, slipped the keys into the neckline at her bosom. There was no chance of them being jostled loose, for it was unlikely she would partake in any of the night’s frivolities.
She strolled along the edge of the ballroom, humming softly to the lively music of the quadrille. She hadn’t been asked to dance all evening, though she had worn the most lavish silken high-waisted gown she owned. Her underdress of palest blue silk had the bodice decorated with tiny forget-me-not flowers embroidered with seed pearls. The three rows of ruched ribbon showed beneath her simple white gauze overdress and she thought she looked particularly fine. She also wore her mother’s pearls in her ears and around her throat, and had caught her hair in a loose chignon with a few loose tendrils cascading in a becoming manner down her neck. A few admiring glances had drifted her way, but none of the young men had made any overtures for even conversation.