Page 53 of How Not to Marry a Duke

“Oh Adeline. Is it true romance? Like Father and your mother?”

“I could only hope for a sliver of what they shared.” Adeline’s gut tightened with guilt. She hated lying to Mary, but she also understood her sister. Mary would struggle to keep the secret and she’d most likely slip in front of Edwin. Her integrity and innocence would make it difficult not to confess the truth, and Adeline couldn’t risk the chance.

“Lady Kirkland’s ball is the event of the Season. You will attend, won’t you?” Adeline asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it for all the world. Do you think you will waltz together? Many say it’s scandalous to dance so close to each other, but it was performed at the last two balls, save Almack’s, of course. Will you waltz with Warwick?”

Adeline tapped her chin with a forefinger. “I hadn’t thought of it.” But now that she had, it was another opportunity to fool Edwin and for Warwick to convince his godmother of their amorous relationship.

“Your duke’s affection is fortuitous for me,” Mary said.

“How so?”

“If Edwin is focused on you, then he won’t watch me.”

Once again, regret pierced her chest. She was convinced that keeping the secret from Mary was the best course of action. If Edwin learned the truth, he’d be relentless and find a way to force Adeline to accept the moneylender’s proposal. Edwin could contest their father’s will in court and claim the cottage as his own. She wasn’t naive and she knew what happened to young, unmarried ladies without a steady source of income. She wouldn’t be able to afford a solicitor or barrister to take her case. Her hopes of healing villagers would never be realized.

No, keeping Mary in the dark was the only way. As for her own future, she’d rather trust Warwick than Edwin.

Chapter Ten

On the day of Lord and Lady Drake’s garden party, Adeline was filled with a strange sense of anticipation. Not dread, but excitement, and she was unnerved by the change.

Was she looking forward to another public encounter with the Duke of Warwick?

“This is your first function since your return, Adeline,” Lady Heywood commented as a liveried servant opened the garden gate to allow them entrance into the Drakes’ gardens.

“I confess I find myself a bit anxious.” Adeline scanned the well-dressed guests. The gentlemen wore tailored coats, colorful embroidered waistcoats, and starched cravats. The ladies, never to be outdone, were dressed in delicate muslin or silk in all the colors of the rainbow from bold blues and violets to pale pastels. It was a warm afternoon and stately oak trees provided shade.

“You have no need to fret, my dear. You look exquisite in that pale blue. It brings out your magnificent eyes.”

Adeline smoothed the silk fabric and managed a small smile at the lady’s kind words. “It’s not the dress, but the people. They are all staring.”

“Let them ogle and talk.”

“I’m not sure their looks are friendly. Most ladies do not want to appear in the Scandal Sheet.”

“Posh! Most ladies are not courted by a duke.” She looped her arm with Adeline’s. “Come now. I wish for you to enjoy your afternoon, my dear. The hosts, Lord and Lady Drake, are exceptionally proud of their gardens. They even have an orangery that produces fresh oranges throughout the year.”

The gardens were impressive with flowering shrubs, a complex maze, and a pond with a small waterfall. As they walked closer, she noticed colorful fish in the clear water. A table had been set outside, and a stream of servants carried out trays of food.

Lady Heywood smiled at passersby. Adeline was conscious of their appraisal, and she was careful to nod and smile.

“You will find our hosts most welcoming,” Lady Heywood said.

Adeline knew Lady Drake from the section of the city where Mediterranean and Middle Eastern Londoners resided—Arabs, Greeks, and Armenians. Then she’d been known as Anahit, the daughter of a Middle Eastern woman and an English baron. Now she’d married the earl and had become a countess. Adeline and Anahit had been close to an elderly lady named Queenie who’d since passed away.

When it was their turn to greet the hosts in line, Lord Drake bowed. “Lady Adeline, you are as lovely as my friend, the Duke of Warwick, has described.”

Adeline flushed. She was aware of the interest of others waiting in line. “His Grace spoke of me?”

“Of course, we are good friends. He tells me many things.”

A flash of unease traveled down her spine, and she studied the earl beneath lowered lashes. Had Warwick told Lord Drake about their “planned courtship”?

If so, how humiliating.

Lord Drake was handsome with dark hair and sinfully dark eyes. She supposed some would find his dark countenance intimidating. Adeline knew better. Any man who befriended Warwick had to understand the duke’s eccentricities and inventive work and, therefore, must be of high intelligence himself.