Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(50)

“What other reason could there possibly be than to protect you from dashed hopes? You are hardly scandalous yourself, so he had nothing else to fear,” the duke said at her comment.

She went very still.

No, Nick had everything to fear. If her scandal was discovered before the letters patent were signed, he would be forced to choose—the lady or the title. He could not save both.

If he married her, she would drag him down with her.

She would ruin him.

“Miss Bursnell, are you quite well?” Montrose laid a hand on her arm.

She shook her head. “No…no.”

“I have given you an unexpected shock, and I am sorry for that. You need not answer me now. We have time. I will visit again tomorrow, unless you wish it otherwise?” He peered questioningly at her.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Please do.”

He bowed and took his leave.

She sat there for long moments, gazing numbly at nothing.

“Adelaide.”

She looked up with a start. Her father had not spoken to her for so long that she had nearly forgotten what her name sounded like in his voice. “Father.”

He looked from the bench upon which she sat to the gray sky above her head. “Has Montrose spoken with you?”

She bit her lip. “Yes, Father.”

“I gave him my blessing.” He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “Your mother is quite beside herself that you have landed a duke. But I care less for his title than for his character. He is a good man, Adelaide. I wouldn’t ask a daughter of mine to marry anything less.”

“That’s good to hear. Thank you.” Her chest felt tight. Once he had looked at her with the pride and tenderness of a loving father. Now he couldn’t bear the sight of her. It broke her heart anew every time he avoided her eyes.

He turned away to pace the length of the small patio. “He is advanced in years, but I believe that will serve you well. Age tempers lasciviousness, you will find. You will learn prudence and restraint in such a marriage.”

Hot shame prickled her skin. Her own father thought her a lustful, unladylike creature. It was humiliating.

His gaze shifted to the space between her right earlobe and shoulder, which was, she supposed, as close as he would ever come to looking her in the face. “Will you accept him?”

No! shrieked her heart. But her heart was wickedly wanton, and best ignored.

“Yes, Father,” she said quietly.

He paused. “Eastwood is here.”

Now, at last, she knew what she must do.

“Tell him I’m not at home.”





Chapter Thirty-Six


Nick glared at the closed door, unable to mask his mounting frustration. Twice he had come to speak to Adelaide’s father to offer marriage, and twice he had been turned away. No explanations had been offered except that most infuriating of phrases, “The family is not at home.”

The family was at home, he was certain of it.

Was she ill? Was the whole damned family ill? Or was it worse than that? Perhaps they were deliberately keeping her from him. After all, two days ago she had arrived home in far less clothing than she had departed with. When the night had passed without Westsea appearing on Nick’s doorstep with a pistol, he had assumed Adelaide was safe, that she had managed to slip to her room undetected.

But if she was in trouble, surely she would find a way to send him word through Alice or Nathaniel?

Unless she no longer wanted him.

Damnation.

He stood in the street and peered up at the house, looking for signs of her. Was she in her room? The library was more likely. He studied the windows, but there was no movement, no shift of the curtains to hint at her presence.

He ground his teeth as he turned away. If he were quite sure she wanted him, he would kick down the door and carry her off bodily, judgmental butlers and furious fathers notwithstanding. But the resulting scandal would set tongues wagging for the next decade, and he didn’t want that. Adelaide would be cut from society and he would lose the marquessate. And for what?

He needed information.

Unfortunately, there was only one source that could help him.

He found Nathaniel at his home on Grosvenor Street, a fashionable address in London. As the butler ushered him into the sitting room, Nick wondered distractedly if his brother intended to live there with Alice after the wedding. Perhaps he should purchase a home nearby. Adelaide would like to live near her sister.

“Ah, Nick. You have come at last.” Nathaniel tossed his book aside and stood. “Would you like some tea?”

“Damn the tea, Nate. What the devil is happening to Adelaide?”

“I take it this is not a social call, then? I suppose it was foolish to think you would visit me of your own volition.”

For God’s sake, what was he going on about? Nick did not have time for his nonsense. Not when Adelaide was ill, or being held against her will, or had decided not to marry him.

Feeling Nathaniel’s gaze on him, he quickly smoothed the frown from his face.

“Have some tea. You seem agitated,” Nathaniel said.

“Tell me about Adelaide,” Nick ground out.

His brother said nothing as he poured the tea. “Milk? Sugar?”

“No milk, five sugars.”

“Did you say five?” Nate’s hand hovered uncertainly over the sugar bowl.