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If he walked away, she would be crushed. There was no choice but to marry her. With ruthless will, Edmond rebuilt the walls she had cracked and doused his desire. He would make an offer, but never must he allow her intimacy. He would have to be resolute in keeping away from her bed until he was ready, if he was ever ready.
But his daughters would have a mother.
Chapter Five
Adel’s cheeks blazed as she held her head high and rushed from the chamber and faltered. It seemed all the guests were outside. There was a moment of shocked silence in the hall as they regarded her. Belatedly she realized only about a dozen people were there, but two well-placed ladies were all that would be needed for society to learn of her folly. She identified the Countess of Livingston, the Marchioness of Deerwood, and several influential society matrons. Adel fought the tears burning to spill as the voices rose, overlapping one another so rabid they were, scenting fresh blood. The scandal sheets would be burning for weeks with this debacle.
She squared her shoulders and pushed past the many eyes heavy with speculation, some with pity, and others with scorn.
“Whose chamber was she in?”
“I do not know.”
“The duke’s.”
Her knees weakened, and she stumbled. Good Heavens! He is a duke? She was caught in flagrante with a duke. Oh…oh…oh! They were ruined. The Viscountess of Sheffield’s daughter had claimed the Earl of Maschelly tried to seduce her. The family had not been able to bring him up to scratch and their daughter had fled to Scotland to avoid the outrage of society’s derision. The earl, of course, had been unruffled by her humiliation. What would the duke do to Adel and her family after this disgrace? Would Mr. Atwood still wish to wed her?
“Which one?”
“Wolverton.”
“The mad duke?” Equal fascination and shock was implied.
Dread sat heavy in Adel’s stomach. How had this happened? Lady Gladstone had called him by his title, but somehow in Adel’s distress it had not truly resounded. Even she had heard whispers of Wolverton. The duke was reputed to be influential with other lords, coldly distant, frighteningly uncivil, and shockingly handsome.
“He has said he would never remarry. There is no hope for her if she was thinking to force his hand.”
“It is far more likely she succumbed to his shocking handsomeness and virility.”
A few voices laughed, though it was hard to identify who, as they all had their fans poised demurely in front of their mouths.
“Perhaps she is already with child, and it is her he attended the house party for. We know of what goes on behind closed door at these gatherings.”
“Scandalous!”
“Indeed, remember many say the true objective of a well-organized house party is to provide ample opportunities to engage in that sort of dalliance.”
Desperate to escape the unkind whispers, Adel headed for her chamber without looking behind her. With every step she felt the awful weight of their eyes boring into her back. Never had she imagined the night would end like this. Unable to walk at a sedate pace, she gripped the folds of her gown and ran down the hall until she reached her chamber. She wrenched the door open, then slammed it closed. She leaned against the frame for support, pressing the heel of her palm on her forehead.
What am I to do? She tried to marshal her thoughts and reason around the panic rearing its head. First she needed to alert her father, then speak with Mr. Atwood, Evie, and then…
The door pushed, and Adel lurched around.
“Oh, Evie,” Adel g
asped, and shocked herself by bursting into raw ugly tears. “Oh, forgive me. I fear my nerves are shattered.”
Evie’s eyes were red rimmed, and she looked broken and guilty. “Dress quickly. Mamma is coming.”
Then she hurried to the armoire and selected a pale yellow high waist gown that had already been pressed for tomorrow’s croquet match. Responding to Evie’s urgency, Adel shrugged from the voluminous nightgown and slipped on her underclothes and the dress with Evie’s aid.
The door to her chamber crashed opened once again.
The countess stormed in, lips flattened, eyes pinched in fury. What is it? When Adel had concocted her plan, she understood she would have earned the countess’s disapproval, despite Evie’s assurance her mother would understand. But the rage in her hostess’s steps spoke of something more.
“Sir Archibald and Lady Margaret will see you in the library. I have informed them of the situation.”
Adel was unable to imagine her father’s distraught. “Lady Gladstone, I—”
