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.