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“Mr. Atwood’s only prospect is a distant baronetcy with little income to support a family. When you marry Lord Vale, you will be a countess,” he said forcefully.
Adel was too stunned to point out that he was only a baronet. In desperation she gripped his fingers. “Papa, if you do not agree on Mr. Atwood. At least give me a few more months to secure another suitor. If I’ve no offer by the year end I will…I will marry your choice.” She almost choked on the words.
“You had a late coming out because of your mother’s passing. I regret that deeply for I feel with her guidance you would have garnered an attractive offer. You’ve attended three seasons and no man wants you with the small dowry I can provide. Five hundred pounds is not enough to tempt any man.”
She flinched and released his arm. She heard what he had not said. Her dark, unfashionable hair, too-rounded hips and bosom did not tempt a man, either, nor the fact that she could read and write in several languages, and cipher.
“You are not to partake in any dances with Mr. Atwood or partner him in any of the parlor and outdoor games. Lord Vale will announce at tomorrow’s ball the news of your engagement, and it would not do for his fiancée to make a hash of things by being silly with another man.”
“Papa—”
“Do you understand me, young lady?”
She pressed a finger to her forehead, and it did nothing to stop the sudden ache pounding through her temple. “Papa, society will speculate on the sudden engagement. He has not been seen escorting me in the country or in London. As far as society knows, we have not been introduced. It is best the earl courts me for several months before there can be talks of an engagement.” Her stomach tightened in knots at the very idea of being in the earl’s presence, but she must do something to discourage her father. Then she would have at least some weeks to figure out how to extricate herself from the earl’s grasping and lascivious clutches if her scheme tonight failed.
“I’ve already given Lord Vale my blessings. It would be dishonorable of me to importune him to change his mind because of your feminine nerves. I expect your obedience or you will gain my severe displeasure.”
Severe displeasure? “And I fear you have lost my good opinion,” she said hoarsely, fighting the urge to cry. “You are supposed to protect me, Papa.”
“I am protecting you,” he said stiffly. “I am doing all in my power to secure your future since you have little thought for it or for your sisters’ and brothers’ future. A connection with the earl will go a long way toward establishing their prospects.”
Of course, my life is not my own. “Mamma would never have pledged me to man who has no respect or affection for me.”
He blanched, but she turned away, and hastened into the night.
She could no longer afford to possess the doubts she had in her heart. She had to act, and it must be tonight.
Chapter Two
“It’s the mad duke.”
The ton was nothing if not predictable. The lone whisper was the indication the rest of the throng needed to take it upon themselves to revisit his past.
“He confessed to his good friend, the Marquess of Westfall, that he killed his wife. It was the talk of the town a few years past.”
Edmond Elias Rochester, the Duke of Wolverton, ignored the gossip that erupted in his wake and moved with purpose toward the corridor that would lead him to the Gladstone library. The ton normally watched him like a hawk, searching for a reaction whenever they whispered too loudly of his supposed insanity. Would he lash out and prove his affliction? They were sorely disappointed every time.
“He lost his heir as well.”
A too-loud gasp sounded.
Though he ensured his countenance was cold and uninterested, their words were like a dagger to his heart. He had certainly been responsible for the death of his wife and son. The guilt and pain was always waiting to strike, reminding him that he had no right to peace or happiness. It was a pain he lived with every day, and it was this rabid interest and speculation in his life that had seen him largely shunning society for the few years since their deaths.
He’d only ever traveled to London for the opening of parliament when he had been careful to avoid the balls and entertainments of the season. He had little interest in such affairs. House parties, in particular, struck him as tedious, even though his experience of them was limited. His sole purpose tonight for being at the Gladstone country home was to finalize some settlement negotiations. When not rubbing reluctant elbows with the bon ton, Edmond was fairly content to bury himself at his estate in Hampshire with his daughters.
Sarah and Rosa. Rage and regret kicked him in the gut, hard and brutal. He had been so damnably blind to their needs. His daughters had been going through governesses like sand through a sieve. The tutor he’d resorted to hiring also seemed at his wits end. No one could tolerate their antics for long, and it had taken him too long to realize they required the comfort and guidance of a mother, and the stability of a normal family life. After losing Maryann, Edmond had vowed never to take another wife. What a damnable ass he had been.
Memory had finally pierced through the cold fog of his misery. He did not need to engage his heart with his next duchess. There was certainly no need for him to ever risk the torment of loss that still haunted his sleep and waking thoughts. The ton mocked any hint of tender emotions between man and wife, thinking it very unfashionable. He’d broken the mold once and married for such sentiments, this time he would do it for very sensible and pragmatic reasons. Many in the ton had such uncomplicated marriage arraignments, and he would simply seek a similar situation for the benefit of his children.
Ignoring the eyes of the multitude of guests and returning a few nods from other gentleman, he made it to the entrance hall and headed directly to the library. Lord Gladstone, the man he was visiting to negotiate with, acknowledged his presence with a nod, then the earl made his way from his guests towards Edmond.
“Wolverton,” Lord Gladstone greeted, falling into step beside him.
“Gladstone, pleased to see you.” Edmond wanted to waste no time with inane pleasantries. He had corresponded with the earl and had made an offer for his daughter, Lady Evelyn. He remembered her vaguely from a few years ago, and she had appeared a likable young lady, a bit too cheerful, but she had a pleasant countenance. The reports from her father also boasted of a young woman of sense and intelligence. She spoke three languages fluently, was adept at painting and playing the pianoforte.
A hard smile twisted Edmond’s lips. She was perfect. She would fill the void he needed, without overtly tempting his baser needs. Female companionship was a comfort he had eschewed since the loss of his wife. In fact, the reason Edmond had even made an offer for Lady Evelyn was because he was certain he would feel nothing physical for her.
They entered the library.
