burned Adel’s face. With child? Good heavens .
“Yes, yes, of course,” her father muttered.
Adel rushed forward. “Papa, this is ridiculous. The duke is innocent in this matter and it was all a dreadful mistake on my part. I do admit I did intend to compromise Mr. Atwood, who most ardently desires to marry me despite the shortcoming of not possessing a sizable dowry or being a fashionable beauty. It would be beyond cruel to even think to make a demand of the duke, when an hour ago he had no knowledge of me. I am sure he will be expecting to marry a young lady of great fortune and impeccable breeding…and that is not me.”
Lady Margaret threw her a glance filled with incredulity. “All of society is now aware he stole your virtue.”
Adel blushed furiously, thinking of their kiss. “He did nothing of the sort!”
“You are a grave disappointment to your family,” her father said. “To act with such…with such…” He closed his eyes as if pained.
“It was ill-judged of me to concoct such a plan, but what was I to do when you refused to listen to reason, Papa? Lord Vale attacked me, left bruises on me, and you were still insisting that I wed him. I had little choice but to protect my virtue, for certainly he would have tried to steal it before we were even married,” she said, her voice roughened with unshed tears.
Lady Margaret’s lips flattened. “You are failing to understand the import of your actions. You will be forced into seclusion, and we will not be able to show our face in society because of the shame. No one will accept us.” Her lower lip trembled and tears glistened on her incredibly long eyelashes.
Papa tenderly held her hand, muttering soothing nonsense. “It shan’t come to that, I won’t allow it,” he said.
“We will have to go into exile,” Lady Margaret said and closed her eyes. “My darlings Helena and Beatrix will never recover from this. How do we survive it? I fear after this dreadful development, only Mr. Atwood may want her and he will just not do.”
Before Adel or Papa could respond, there was a sharp perfunctory rap on the door and then it was opened. The duke strolled in, fully dressed in a dark coat and trousers, looking shockingly handsome. His shrewd gray eyes took in the scene in a sweeping glance, then settled on her. Though so coldly aloof, he was quite magnificent, her addled mind realized.
“May I present you to Sir Archibald and his wife, Lady Margaret, Your Grace. Sir Archibald and Lady Margaret, may I introduce His Grace, the Duke of Wolverton,” Lord Gladstone said, entering behind the duke.
Lady Margaret surged to her feet and dropped into an elegant deep curtsy.
“Your Grace,” her father said standing and bowing. “I have read many of your wonderful articles championing better treatment for the invalided soldiers. Very admirable and not unexpected of a man of your exceedingly eloquent stature.”
Her father was much adept at flattery. He did nothing in this instance but lay on thick praise to the duke, even going as far as to quote him on some article he had recently written for the Gentleman’s Magazine . Lady Margaret’s head bobbed with every word uttered from Papa. The duke looked on with chilling tolerance, and Adel was too weary to be embarrassed on behalf of her father and stepmother, but she was most assuredly filled with rioting nerves.
“We understand there was a slight incident earlier, and we apologize for our daughter’s behavior,” Lady Margaret said, after Papa finally took a breath.
“Entirely my fault. It seemed I occupied the wrong chamber,” the duke said dryly, with the slightest quirk of his lips.
Adel inhaled at the flutter of warm sensations that erupted in her stomach and her heartbeat quickened uncomfortably. That barely-there smile had rendered him charming, approachable.
“You are so kind and honorable , Your Grace. I…we…” Lady Margaret inhaled.
Adel winced at her stepmother’s emphasis.