AllFreeNovel
Share Us
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.
“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.
