Red splashed across Mr. Atwood’s face and Adel was nonplussed to realize he was blushing.
“They are saying you have been his mistress,” he said harshly.
Mr. Atwood must know such a ridiculous assertion could not possibly be true, but the facts would not be believed. Once society spoke of it, he would find it an affront.
“I see,” she said softly, distressed and annoyed in equal measure to feel tears rising once more to the surface. “I feel as if I have aged a decade in just a few hours,” she gasped, fighting the urge to cry. “I feel so ridiculous. Society’s opinion is far more important to you than I am. I have been silly enough to willingly take steps that might bring ruin to my name, because I thought the tendre we had formed was worth so much more than a cold union .”
Perhaps the duke was right; sentiments in marriage were for the fool-hearted. She had been so certain Mr. Atwood adored her as he’d professed on several occasions.
He grimaced, and then turned soulful eyes to her. “You are so beautiful, Adeline.”
Her eyes widened. Never had he referred to her with such intimacy before, or referred to her as a beauty.
He continued gruffly, “For a long time I felt undeserving of you. That someone as wonderful as you would want to marry me. You enjoy fishing, you listened when I spoke of my work and my dreams of becoming a barrister.”
Regret settled on his face and Adel felt a tight knot forming in the pit of her stomach.
“I cannot marry you, not after you have been caught with the duke. I do not even believe we can be friends. The duke has sworn off marriage, and everyone speaks of the fact that he will abandon you. Your reputation has been irreparably damaged, and you may tarnish mine by association.”
She flinched and he tugged at his cravat. Before she could inform him that the duke had done the honorable thing, Mr. Atwood hurried past her.
“I am sorry,” he murmured as he darted away.
Adel was too stunned to even turn to watch him leave. Years of friendship and expectation had been reduced to a hasty dismissal and good-bye. She closed her eyes. What was she to do now? Would the duke even still want to marry her, after her earlier rejection? She did not have to marry him, she could flee to the country and use her modest inheritance from her mother to try and open a bookshop after the scandal died away. Although her infamy might very well cause patrons to flock to her establishment. She wondered if she should change her name and hope for anonymity to hide her from society’s censure.
And what of your sisters? Though Helena and Beatrix were her stepsisters, Adel loved them wholeheartedly. If she were ruined, the scandal would follow her for years, her sisters would also suffer the consequences. With stiff movements she turned around and walked from the orangery toward the main house. She would have to marry. The idea of wedding Lord Vale was unbearable, and certainly no other man would be interested. She would have to wed the duke…if he would still have her.
Chapter Eight
The rousing strains of the orchestra did little to soothe Adel’s nerves. Life had continued for the guests of Pembington House, and it was only her world that had been shattered. The ball was in full swing, and her stomach was in knots as she descended the wide staircase. Adel had worn the turquoise muslin gown trimmed with gold embroidery for tonight’s ball. She’d not wanted to attend, but Papa and Lady Margaret had been firm, they would not hide as if they were ashamed. The ton was quicker to smell blood when in retreat. Adel became the focus of several pointed stares, and though she had stoically prepared herself for the chatter, the swell that rose in the ballroom was shocking.
“There she is!”
“She has some nerve showing her face. I thought her family would have bundled her away by now, for the shame.”
“She is quite beautiful isn’t she? It is easy to see what tempted the duke.”
The assessment so startled her, she glanced in the direction of the voices and witnessed three gentlemen staring at her. She recognized the Marquess of Westfall amongst them. He insolently caressed her length with his tawny golden eyes, and a smile tugged at his lips, drawing her gaze to the mess of scars running from his forehead down to his chin on the left side of his face. His manner was so bold and outrageous Adel flushed. She had no idea what Evie saw in the reprobate.
“Beauty?” The marquess drawled. “I doubt Wolverton touched the chit. She was simply being a mercenary bitch, and will no doubt expire from shock when he ignores her.”
A sob clawed from the depths of her being and spilled from her throat at the blatant insult.
Mercenary bitch.
His eyes flared and gleamed with something similar to regret, then an expression of icy disdain settled on his face. The men with him appeared so shocked by his vulgarity that it left them silent.