Accidentally Compromising the Duke(22)

“That is very unsporting of you, Westfall,” one of the men muttered, looking discomfited. “Perhaps Wolverton will offer for her.”

“Why ever would he do such a ghastly thing?”

Tears pricked behind her lids, and she gave Westfall her back and walked away. Westfall was Wolverton’s closest friend. Had the duke shared with the marquess his true opinion of her mistake? Adel so badly wanted to scamper away and plead with her father to depart the house party. Surely her presence would only fan the embers of scandal more. Surely out of sight would be out of mind.

“I wonder if he will take her to be his mistress.”

“I’ve been told she was already his soiled little dove.”

With false calm she waited near the terrace windows. No one greeted her, and dance after dance were announced and no one had approached her. They only stared. Even Mr. Atwood made a concentrated effort to direct his attention elsewhere and those of society in the Gladstone ballroom took note. She sucked in a breath when Lady Margaret entered and instead of coming over, chose to make the rounds. Adel had just decided to leave when a sudden ripple of conversation washed over the assembled throng. The too loud murmurs began at the far left side of the ballroom and crested in Adel’s direction.

“It’s the duke.”

“Wolverton?”

“Yes…it seems as if Viscount Eldridge has won the wager. He swore the duke would make an appearance tonight and Lord Westfall bet twenty guineas he would not!”

Several ladies actually turned so they could see as he descended the stairs. He looked handsome, clad in black trousers with a matching jacket and silver brocade waistcoat. His dark hair was tamed, and Adel fancied she could see the piercing silver of his eyes from where she stood.

“Will he go to her or cut her?”

Adel felt sick at that whisper. She had rejected his offer. And he had no notion that she had tried to speak with him earlier, but had been told he had been out riding. What if he ignored her for the duration of the ball? That would cement in society’s eyes, that she was soiled and unworthy. Firming her jaw and straightening her spine, she scanned the crowd. Satisfaction curled inside her that many were unable to meet her gaze for long. It was a small triumph but she welcomed it.

Many greeted him as he came off the final steps. Lord and Lady Gladstone were one of the first to approach him, and they smiled and chatted as if nothing were amiss. After a few minutes the duke inclined his head and walked away. The crowd parted as he moved with purpose not toward her, but away.

Adel’s heart pounded and in desperation she went to the refreshment table and collected a punch glass.

“He is cutting her.” A whisper to her left reached her ears.

Tears pricked her lids. Should she stay? Or should she try to slip away unnoticed. It did not take her long to realize that such an endeavor would be impossible. The attention of the lords and ladies at present was split. Some ogled her and the others were craning their necks, making no attempt to not be obvious as they watched Wolverton.

If she left they would know she was fleeing in shame, and the slander would be worse tomorrow. She dreaded reading about her own escapades in the scandal sheets. Although Adel stood in a sea of people, she had never felt so desperately alone. It was quite evident she was at this moment, a pariah. No one moved close, even Lady Margaret was carefully nearing the terrace door, her eyes wide with apprehension as she watched the duke. As if on cue, Adel’s cheeks smarted where her stepmother had slapped her earlier, when she’d informed them she rejected the duke and asked if they could arrange an audience, so she could correct her error.

It seemed as if she could do nothing right.

Another wave of titters crested through the ballroom, and her gaze unerringly landed on the duke’s broad shoulders. He was beside the orchestra. He bent to say something to one of their number. The musicians nodded, and he sauntered away, bold and graceful…right toward her. Adel’s hands shook, fearing she would spill the punch she had yet to sip, she placed it on the refreshment table with a soft clink.

He stopped in front of her, and it was as if the entire room held its breath.

A few seconds later the violins sounded, and the scandalous strain of a waltz filtered on the air, shocking her. The duke bowed, then straightened and held his hand out to her. “Miss Adeline, would you honor me with a waltz?”

From the periphery of her vision she saw her stepmother wilting in relief, and even Evie smiled, her eyes filling with tears. Adel wanted to fling herself into his arms and shout for relief. His public show of support must mean that he still desired to marry her. Her sisters were saved; her family was not ruined, if she did not botch it further. She sank into a curtsy. “I would be honored, Your Grace.” Then she rose and stepped into his arms as if she belonged there.