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Her heart sank. “I am not sure if you’ve heard—”
“I did!” he snapped. “And I will be made to be a laughingstock for it was known I courted you.”
“Mr. Atwood, I—”
“It is on everyone’s tongue how you compromised the duke. I must admire you for setting your cap so high.”
A pang shot ’s heart. Surely he didn’t believe her capable of such wanton social climbing. “I most certainly did not. I thought I was slipping into your room, Mr. Atwood,” she said honestly. She had thought such a confession would have soothed him, but instead he stiffened.
“Did he take your virtue?”
She blushed. “Nothing happened.”
The smoky taste of lips flavored with the hint of brandy, the feel of his throbbing heat…had been incredible, but instead she focused on what she would lose today. Mr. Atwood’s face was becoming more mottled, and disappointment was settling into her stomach. Every instinct was shouting that if Mr. Atwood truly had genuine feelings for her, he would have acted upon them, and they would now be making plans on how to weather society’s scorn. “I could not have been in His Grace’s chamber for more than a few minutes before Lady Gladstone entered.” Adel was still unsure of how long she had actually been in the chamber. The sherry had muddled her thoughts more than she realized.
“A few minutes are all it takes,” Mr. Atwood growled in obvious agitation. “To think of that mad bloody scoundrel touching you, kissing your fair lips is enough to make me want to call him out.”
Mad bloody scoundrel?
Her heart lurched. “Don’t be silly. His Grace is innocent in all of this. Everyone seems to be forgetting I thought it was your room. Don’t you see, Mr. Atwood? I thought if we were caught in a compromising position, father would make us wed.” She took a deep breath. “There is no avoiding all that has happened, but the question is, do you still wish to marry me?”
A sharp pang of loss cut deep into her heart. If she were to marry James, the chaotic need the duke had aroused in her body would never be experienced. She angrily pushed such thoughts aside. She had already betrayed James with her body’s reaction to the man; she would not do so with her thoughts.
He froze, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he seemingly struggled to swallow. “We cannot, Adel, I—” He thrust fingers through his hair in obvious frustration.
She firmed her lips to prevent their trembling. “I see. I never realized society’s opinion was so very important to you. You were so eager to wed me, and Papa was so against our union, I thought if the countess knew I had been alone in your room even for a second, she would encourage Papa to see us wed. Entering the duke’s room was a horrid misfortune.”
A florid flush climbed his face. “I cannot even think of continuing to press my suit! Everyone knows you were in his room, and it has already been suggested you may be enceinte. If we were to still wed, I would be forced to defend your honor at every instance.”
Forced to defend my honor…yet a stranger was willing to place the proverbial noose around his neck to save her reputation. Adel’s heart fluttered at her assessment. “Why should we allow the whispers of small-minded people to dictate our lives?” she demanded, though her heart kept plummeting.
He looked away from her, steadfastly refusing to meet her gaze. “They are crucial to my success. The house is already rife with talk of the duke having had you,” Mr. Atwood muttered. “I should not be speaking to you of such delicate matters, but it seems it is unavoidable.”
What delicate matters? “What are they saying Wolverton made me do?” It should not be important, but she strangely cared.
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.
