Accidentally Compromising the Duke (6 page)

He continued as if she had not spoken. “I have spent the last few minutes reassuring your fiancé this must all be a dreadful mistake, and you would never act with such wanton impropriety. Lord Vale has agreed to announce the engagement immediately. Now to stave off any further scandal the wedding will be proceeded with urgency. No time for banns to be posted and Vale is in the process of using his considerable influence to procure a special license.”

Somehow she never imagined her father’s reaction would be to foist her off even faster onto the earl. She glanced at Lady Margaret, and was met with a similar resolve in her gaze. Adel swallowed the laugh bubbling forth. She was found in the bed of a powerful duke who would certainly crush her for her temerity. The humiliation to come was enough to encourage her to flee to Derbyshire to her godmother. Why would Lord Vale still insist on marriage?

She hugged her middle, caught up in a vice of fear. As she thought on her life so far this season, Lord Vale’s constant veiled insinuations and repulsive pinches, a hot tide of rebellion stirred inside. “I have been compromised. Surely Lord Vale would not wish for a wife that is—”

Her father shook his head. “He understands that the blackguard James Atwood must have forced you to come to his room, and that young man will be dealt with. You are fortunate, Lord Vale is still willing to marry you and—”

“Young Mr. Atwood?” Lord Gladstone asked, from the mantel where he been watching the entire exchange.

Adel’s cheeks burned at the humiliation. The countess had not revealed with whom she had been caught. But why would Lord Vale pretend it had not been the duke?
Of course
, he was correctly thinking her parents would eagerly seek a forced match with Wolverton. Why would they settle for an earl when they could snag a duke? Lord Vale must have been hoping, they would have shepherded Adel from Pembington House and straight into his arms immediately.

Her father’s expression bloomed with ire at the interruption. He enjoyed listening to his admonishing sermons, which he had been delivering quite often ever since Adel could remember.
No
…since her mother died and he remarried.

“Yes,” he snapped. “Mr. Atwood has been hounding me for my daughter’s hand, and I have refused him several times, and this ploy of theirs is nothing more than their attempt to circumvent—”

“Forgive me, Sir Archibald, but your daughter was not found with young Mr. Atwood.”

She had never thought her father could be rendered speechless. He spluttered, then swung a wild-eyed gaze to her, while her stepmother affected a swoon and wilted on the chaise, sobbing.

“Your daughter was found in the bed of the Duke of Wolverton,” Lord Gladstone said with some measure of satisfaction. Why was he pleased? It was his daughter that had been set to marry the man. Why was he not as angry as his lady?

“I was not found in his bed,” she said hoarsely.

“The Duke of Wolverton?” Lady Margaret whispered, disbelief rife in her voice.

At the pronounced silence in the library, Lord Gladstone excused himself, leaving Adel alone with her father and stepmother.

Lady Margaret glanced at Adel, eyes wide with apprehension and was that a glimmer of excitement? She was no doubt envisioning the lofty circles their family could be mingling with. “My dear,” she turned to her husband, her fingers laced tightly together. “You cannot insist Lord Vale marry our daughter if she was found in the bed of a Duke. She may even be with child as we speak. We must insist the duke to do the honorable thing.”

Heat burned Adel’s face. With child?
Good heavens
.

“Yes, yes, of course,” her father muttered.

Adel rushed forward. “Papa, this is ridiculous. The duke is innocent in this matter and it was all a dreadful mistake on my part. I do admit I did intend to compromise Mr. Atwood, who most ardently desires to marry me despite the shortcoming of not possessing a sizable dowry or being a fashionable beauty. It would be beyond cruel to even think to make a demand of the duke, when an hour ago he had no knowledge of me. I am sure he will be expecting to marry a young lady of great fortune and impeccable breeding…and that is not me.”

Lady Margaret threw her a glance filled with incredulity. “All of society is now aware he stole your virtue.”

Adel blushed furiously, thinking of their kiss. “He did nothing of the sort!”

“You are a grave disappointment to your family,” her father said. “To act with such…with such…” He closed his eyes as if pained.

“It was ill-judged of me to concoct such a plan, but what was I to do when you refused to listen to reason, Papa? Lord Vale attacked me, left bruises on me, and you were still insisting that I wed him. I had little choice but to protect my virtue, for certainly he would have tried to steal it before we were even married,” she said, her voice roughened with unshed tears.

Lady Margaret’s lips flattened. “You are failing to understand the import of your actions. You will be forced into seclusion, and we will not be able to show our face in society because of the shame. No one will accept us.” Her lower lip trembled and tears glistened on her incredibly long eyelashes.

Papa tenderly held her hand, muttering soothing nonsense. “It shan’t come to that, I won’t allow it,” he said.

“We
will
have to go into exile,” Lady Margaret said and closed her eyes. “My darlings Helena and Beatrix will never recover from this. How do we survive it? I fear after this dreadful development, only Mr. Atwood may want her and he will just not do.”

Before Adel or Papa could respond, there was a sharp perfunctory rap on the door and then it was opened. The duke strolled in, fully dressed in a dark coat and trousers, looking shockingly handsome. His shrewd gray eyes took in the scene in a sweeping glance, then settled on her. Though so coldly aloof, he was quite magnificent, her addled mind realized.

“May I present you to Sir Archibald and his wife, Lady Margaret, Your Grace. Sir Archibald and Lady Margaret, may I introduce His Grace, the Duke of Wolverton,” Lord Gladstone said, entering behind the duke.

Lady Margaret surged to her feet and dropped into an elegant deep curtsy.

“Your Grace,” her father said standing and bowing. “I have read many of your wonderful articles championing better treatment for the invalided soldiers. Very admirable and not unexpected of a man of your exceedingly eloquent stature.”

Her father was much adept at flattery. He did nothing in this instance but lay on thick praise to the duke, even going as far as to quote him on some article he had recently written for the
Gentleman’s Magazine
. Lady Margaret’s head bobbed with every word uttered from Papa. The duke looked on with chilling tolerance, and Adel was too weary to be embarrassed on behalf of her father and stepmother, but she was most assuredly filled with rioting nerves.

“We understand there was a slight incident earlier, and we apologize for our daughter’s behavior,” Lady Margaret said, after Papa finally took a breath.

“Entirely my fault. It seemed I occupied the wrong chamber,” the duke said dryly, with the slightest quirk of his lips.

Adel inhaled at the flutter of warm sensations that erupted in her stomach and her heartbeat quickened uncomfortably. That barely-there smile had rendered him charming, approachable.

“You are so kind and
honorable
, Your Grace. I…we…” Lady Margaret inhaled.

Adel winced at her stepmother’s emphasis. Nothing in the duke’s mien indicated he was aware of her subtle pressure.

“Thank you for receiving me on such short notice.” His tone was so bland and polite; Adel struggled to guess what he was actually feeling.

His wintry gaze scanned the room and settled on her father. “You are no doubt aware of why I am here, Sir Archibald. Shall we speak alone?”

Anger stirred in Adel. She was mightily tired of her life being decided for her. “No.”

The caress of his eyes slid over her like a sharpened blade, then he lowered his lids and dismissed her.

It stung.

“By all means,” her father said.

“You will have to bodily remove me, Papa. It is my future we are discussing and I should be a part of it,” she announced decisively.

Chapter Six

“Are you here to offer for our daughter?” Lady Margaret asked, no doubt anxious to get to the heart of the matter.

Adel gasped, and all eyes swung to her. This was all going dreadfully wrong. Of course the duke would not offer for her, she had nothing to recommend her for the lofty title of duchess. She’d had her first come out the year after her mother died, and in the three years since, only two young men had called on her and only Mr. Atwood had remained constant. Lord Vale was an anomaly and he’d not courted her. He’d stared, accidentally grazed her breast when no one looked, made suggestive whispers, and then attacked her. What made her stepmother believe the duke would do something so utterly implausible?

“Yes,” he said.

Shock stabbed through Adel. “What?”

“You will do the honorable thing?” her father asked faintly.

The duke strolled to the sidebar and lifted the crystal from the decanter. He poured a golden liquid into a glass, then faced her father. “Most assuredly. In fact, I believe it wise if Miss Adeline and I were to wed as soon as possible, Sir Archibald.”

This was so unexpected she felt faint. Adel’s mouth went dry, and she was certain there was some misunderstanding. “Your Grace,” she finally said very carefully, “You wish to make
me
your duchess?”

It seemed as if everyone in the library braced for his response.

“Yes.”

“Good heavens,” Lady Margaret breathed and gripped her husband’s arms, as if seeking support from swooning. “A very sensible arrangement, Your Grace. Your sense of honor does you credit.” She bobbed her head so vigorously the high purple turban with the plume feathers attached was in the precarious position of falling.

Adel was too stupefied to do anything but stare at the duke.

“Leave us,” he commanded to the room at large. “I wish to have a few words with Miss Adeline.”

Irritation bubbled in her when her stepmother and father bowed and scrambled out. Lord Gladstone nodded and he too made to depart.

They were leaving her alone with the man?

“Your Grace, please—” Her teeth snapped together at the gentle closing of the door. She closed her eyes for precious seconds. “You cannot wish to marry me.” For some reason she had believed he would refuse her father’s demands, not that he had even given Papa the chance to bluster. The duke did not seem like a man easily intimidated.

His eyebrow lifted slightly. “I do.”

She searched his gaze frantically, and found nothing but sincerity. “But why?” she spluttered.

“You were found in my bed, and I had been seconds away from drawing you underneath me and stealing your virtue,” he said so dryly they could have been discussing the weather.

Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “There is no need to be so explicit,” she countered staunchly. “And my virtue was never in any danger.”

“Even if our encounter has somehow slipped your memory, I am sure you remember our host and hostess discovering us.”

He said it as if they had conspired to have a clandestine rendezvous. She narrowed her eyes. “I feel compelled to point out I was in the middle of the room when Lady Gladstone entered.”

Provoking amusement lit his eyes, then disappeared so swiftly she wondered if she had imagined it. “We are compromised and therefore we must marry. I will not tarnish my honor by walking away.”

Though he said the words lightly, instinctively she recognized that being honorable was important to him. But how could he commit to something as permanent as marriage for honor? How could Adel consent when a man who loved her was probably eagerly waiting to speak with her? She was clasping her hands so tightly together her fingers hurt. “You do realize I believed you were someone else.”

He prowled closer, his expression inscrutable. “Did you?”

She swallowed, taking small retreating steps away from him, desperate to maintain a particular distance between them. “Yes. A Mr. James Atwood. We are close in temperament and age, not that I am saying you are old, Your Grace.” Heat burned her and she was sure her face was as red as the lobster she had eaten earlier. “Mr. Atwood… Ahh…he offered for me, but my father said no. It was his chamber I had intended to enter.”

The duke frowned briefly. “I have a clear memory of you telling me I felt harder,
tasted
sweet, that you felt hot and wet. I put forth the argument you knew I was not your young Mr. Atwood, Miss Adeline.”

The bloody scoundrel!
It was not the mark of a gentleman to so baldly and arrogantly remind a lady of her lapse in judgment. Worse, she was alarmed at the possibility that he was right. “You are mistaken, Your Grace,” she said frostily.

The dratted man smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “You knew I was not Mr. Atwood the instant you touched me.”

Her head swam with the humiliating truth of his words. She hadn’t been sure. But he couldn’t know…
could he
? The minute she had tumbled into his powerful frame, the masculine fragrance of sandalwood and a cologne she had never smelled before had wrapped around her senses, confusing her. In desperation she had reached out, feeling and caressing, and had been met with a hardness that surprised and enthralled her. She had wondered how it was possible for the very slim and elegant Mr. Atwood to feel so male. Awareness had bloomed, but she had ignored the doubt, insisting it was nerves and too much liquid courage.

Evie and Adel’s plan had not even intended her to kiss Mr. Atwood, only to be caught standing in his chamber. But she had kissed this man, and she had known without a shadow of doubt she had sneaked into the wrong bed. The curious desire that had blazed in her blood had been alarming and wonderful. How utterly foolish she had been.

“I have no notion of what you speak. You are kind in making your generous offer, but I cannot marry you,” she whispered, sickened with the awareness of how easily she had been inconstant. She needed to see Mr. Atwood right away.