Redemption of the Duke (21 page)

He blinked down at her in surprise. “You’re right,” he said softly, drawing her aside.
“I keep seeing Shenstone and Sophia, and I’m not happy about it.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“No, not in depth anyway.”

“Maybe you should. Look, he’s heading into the corridor right now. You can catch him.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you for your understanding.”

“He’s standing up for you at the wedding, isn’t he?”

Adam hesitated.

“You didn’t ask him yet?” she said in astonishment. “Oh, I promise not to tattle to
your mother.”

He gave a reluctant laugh. “Then I’d better rectify that.”

Adam moved through the crowd as quickly as he was able, nodding politely to guests
but making it apparent he couldn’t talk. In the corridor, he saw Shenstone just entering
the card room and called his name, half expecting to be ignored again.

But Shenstone came back out and waited for him.

“Can we talk?”

“You don’t have much time to talk lately, Rothford,” he said coolly.

“I do now.” He led him downstairs to his study and shut the door.

“You know,” Shenstone said in a strangely conversational tone, “you’re about to be
married. Most men in your situation need some last exciting . . . experiences before
the big commitment. Do you remember that actress who would never even make time for
you? I understand she’s free now and—”

“Why do you keep bringing up my past?” Adam asked sharply. “I know we’re at different
points in our lives, but surely we can find something else to talk about.”

Shenstone shrugged. “Maybe I’ve got nothing else to talk about. I’m still the same
as I always was, remember?”

“No, I don’t think so. You’re angrier and bitter.”

The last of Shenstone’s smile faded. “And you’re dull.”

“But apparently, my sister is not.”

“We amuse each other. Is something wrong with that?”

“She’s too innocent for you—and I want her to remain that way.”

“So you think I’d harm your sister’s reputation, like you seem to have done to Miss
Cooper?”

Adam inhaled swiftly, then let it go. “I am marrying her.”

“And she looks just jubilant about it. And let’s not forget Lady Emmeline, who thought
she’d be the one to marry you.”

“I cannot be responsible for what Lady Emmeline thought while I was gone all those
years,” Adam said tightly. “As for Miss Cooper, that’s none of your business.”

“And my relationship with Sophia is none of
your
business.”

“As her brother, it most certainly is.”

“She’s of age and can choose whom she wants.”

“Are you seriously going to pursue her?” Adam demanded.

Shenstone lounged back against Adam’s desk. “I didn’t say that.”

With a groan, Adam ran a hand through his hair. He should confront Shenstone about
the threatening letters, but didn’t know if that would be showing his cards too soon.
And wouldn’t the man just lie, if he was capable of such threats? “I don’t understand
why we are having such difficulties between us. I thought you would stand up for me
at my wedding.”

Shenstone snorted. “You haven’t asked, have you?”

“You haven’t seemed like you would accept the honor.”

He narrowed his eyes, then said softly, “I won’t.”

He walked past Adam, deliberately brushing his shoulder, and closed the door behind
him. Hands on his hips, Adam stared out into the torchlit gardens surrounding the
mansion. Perhaps he should have brought up the letters, but something inside kept
him from doing so.

Was he supposed to believe one of his oldest friends was angry enough to research
Faith’s past and threaten him with anonymous letters? But he couldn’t risk doing nothing,
so he would contact his investigator and have a man follow Shenstone, too. How long
could this possibly go on?

Chapter 20

T
he next morning, Adam decided to visit Raikes’s office rather than await a messenger
back and forth between them. He looked out the window to the entrance hall to judge
the weather—and saw a ragged little boy coming through the gate. It was both a kick
in the stomach and a surge of alertness that an approaching battle always brought.
He ran back through the house to the servants’ stair and headed down to the kitchen
on the ground floor, startling Cook just as a knock sounded at the servants’ entrance.

“Just take the note,” Adam said quietly, as all the pages, scullery maids, and kitchen
maids goggled at him. “I’m going to follow him.”

“But Your Grace, should not one of the footmen do it for you?”

“No, I need to take care of this myself.”

Cook nodded, cleared his throat, and everyone got out of sight of the door. Not half
a minute later, Cook called, “He scampered off, Your Grace!”

Seabrook took the note as he reached the kitchen with his slower pace. Adam went through
the outside door and saw the boy still running toward the far corner of the house.
Once he took the turn, Adam started after him, running at a slow pace. He saw faces
pressed to the ground floor windows as he passed, and knew he was giving his servants
a fine midmorning joke.

Once on the street, he felt a little more confident in following the boy through the
crowds. That is, until they headed east, where the city streets got more and more
crowded. At last, Adam just gave up, realizing he couldn’t possibly run all the way
to the East End, if that’s where the boy was headed. He’d been hoping that if a gentleman
had paid him, the boy would return to give a report, but apparently not. There’d been
no waiting hackney to convey him either. He was heading directly east—back home, poor
lad.

Adam caught a hackney home, and Seabrook met him in his study to hand over the note,
bow, and depart. The note looked exactly the same, and Adam glared at it before breaking
the seal.

So much for believing the blackguard had given up.

With a heavy sigh, he read:

You’ll be sorry when everyone finds out your new duchess is a whore.

He slammed the note down hard. So was the threat to reveal the truth? What the hell
did this person want from him? Just to make him crazy with frustration? To make him
break off the engagement? Every step of the way, Adam had done exactly what he himself
wanted to do, while taking security precautions for Faith, and nothing had happened
except these damned notes.

But was this a threat to reveal Faith’s background, if she became his wife? That would
hurt her, but certainly she’d be better able to withstand the storm as his duchess,
rather than a woman alone in the world. He thought again about informing her, but
he was taking care of things. She’d only worry—or flee. And he didn’t want either
of those things. He wouldn’t tell his aunt until after the wedding—no need to upset
the old girl.

As he’d planned, Adam went to Raikes’s office and had him begin to watch Shenstone,
even though it made him sick. He heard a report that Miss Ogden and Miss Atherstone
had unblemished records, while Gilpin was never out of sight of the investigator,
if he wasn’t in his own home. But of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have hired
a man to find a boy . . . so what did having suspects followed even prove? But he
had to do
something,
and perhaps someone would make a mistake.

But he was going to marry Faith, and nothing would stop him.

T
he night before the wedding, Faith retired early to her bedroom. She was already in
her nightdress and dressing gown, seated at her dressing table, her hair down to be
brushed, when she heard a knock at the door.

“Come in, Ellen,” she called.

Adam stepped into the room and closed the door.

She froze with her hairbrush at the crown of her head.

He smiled. “Don’t let me disturb you. Just think, after tomorrow, I’ll be able to
watch you every night.”

She slowly lowered the brush, then licked her suddenly dry lips. “But we aren’t married
yet.”

His smile grew crooked. “I know. I had some news to impart, and some of it is not
what I’d hoped for. I had sent a footman and maid to escort your mother to the wedding.”

She took in a deep, startled breath. “I posted the invitation, but she never responded.”

“I’m sorry to say that she turned down the opportunity to attend.”

She let her breath out in a long sigh. “I cannot pretend to be sad. Though your motive
was to be kind, next time, please consult me first.”

He came over to stand behind her, and their eyes met in the mirror. “I assumed you
wanted her to attend, since you sent an invitation.”

“The correct reason was that I did not want to explain things to your mother.”

“Aah, forgive me.”

“Adam, are you always going to do this, not discuss things with me?”

“I was hoping to surprise you.”

She softened. “I know, and I should take that into account. It’s just . . . my mother
did not approve of what I had to do to support her—although she took my money regularly
enough. But I have not seen her in over two years.”

“Do you correspond?”

“I send her regular letters, and once in a while she responds. But I’m a sinner in
her eyes, and I’m not certain marrying a duke will change that.”

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

She turned around on the bench and touched his arm, rising to her feet. “You’ve said
that enough. We’re past it. Thank you for thinking of me. Did your mother tell you
who else had agreed to attend? Your two fellow soldiers from the Eighth Dragoons and
their wives—Viscount Blackthorne and the Earl of Knightsbridge. Is there anything
I should know before we meet?”

But they were standing close together, and his eyes were watching her mouth, and she
found her thoughts getting far too distracted.

“Adam?” she whispered.

His gaze flicked to her face as if surprised she’d spoken.

She bit her lip to hide a smile, and couldn’t help feeling pleased that although she
was worried about their marriage, she had no need to worry about the strength of the
attraction between them.

He cleared his throat. “I’m glad they’ve come. I’ll ask them both to stand up with
me at the ceremony.”

“You didn’t send them private notes in advance?” she asked, shocked that he’d let
such an important wedding detail go until the last minute.

He seemed baffled. “Why should I? I know they’ll accept.”

“But . . .” And then she let it go. Men simply thought differently from women.

“Our wedding is rather normal compared to Blackthorne’s. He married our commander’s
daughter by proxy. I attended the ceremony in India, although the bride was in England.”

She stared at him in surprise. “Of course they’d met.”

“No, not until we returned last autumn.”

“That’s incredibly brave and trusting,” she said, positive something dire must have
occurred to make that happen. “I understand the earl recently married, as well.”

“I was able to attend that wedding, too. Just so you’re aware, the bride has been
blind since childhood.”

Now her mouth really did drop open. “You have the most fascinating friends, Adam.
I’m looking forward to meeting them.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth again, and then lower, where she was without the protection
of corset and layers of petticoats.

“Do you know what I’m looking forward to?” he asked softly.

“A good wedding breakfast?” she teased, though her heart seemed to be beating in her
ears, and she couldn’t take a deep enough breath.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hungrily for what seemed like endless minutes
of mutual passion. His hands skimmed down her back and captured her backside. Her
nightclothes were so thin it was as if he touched her bare flesh, and she moaned.

How far would he go—how far would she let him? She’d spent their several-week engagement
avoiding this contact, knowing that if she let him touch her, she might burst into
flames. It felt that way now, like she was so hot she could strip off her clothes.

“I’ve been aching for you,” he said against her temple. “I want to touch you, to show
you how you make me feel.”

Passion, desire—those feelings were permissible in a marriage, but they weren’t love.
How could Faith let herself love him, when she could be the cause of the social ruin
of his whole family?

He stiffened. “You’re drifting away from me, I can feel it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so . . . frightened.”

He cupped her face to look into her eyes. “Of me?”

“No, you’ve been good to me. I’m afraid I won’t be a good wife for you, that my past—”

“Stop it,” he said firmly. “Don’t speak of it again.”

“But it happened, Adam, and we can’t wish it away.”

“I’m not wishing anything away. Everything you’ve experienced has made you the person
you are. But it’s the
past,
and we are going forward into the future, the married future where I make you blissfully
happy, day and night. Your doubts make me think you don’t trust me.”

“Oh, Adam, you’ve been honorable to me.” She saw the flash of pain in his eyes, knew
he was thinking about his own mistakes. It was her turn to say, “
Everything
is in the past. Let us both promise that we’ll forget it.” And then she kissed him
softly, awash with tender feelings for him because the sorrow that had first brought
them together had turned into a mutual regard. Was it love? Or was she too afraid
to admit that? “Sleep well, Adam.”

He sighed. “I must leave?”

“You must leave.” And for just a moment, she had a terrible thought. She wasn’t a
virgin—what if he insisted on staying?

But he never said that, only kissed her brow and left.

And she hated herself for letting her past mar her present. They’d agreed that the
past was finished and shouldn’t affect them, but it was so easy to say, and difficult
to do.

T
he ceremony at the church seemed to pass by in a dream for Faith. Strangers crowded
the church courtyard to get a glimpse of her when she arrived, the next Duchess of
Rothford.

Looking at Adam in his dark blue frock coat and tan trousers, smiling at her so tenderly,
it finally felt real. She saw her first glimpse of his two friends, Blackthorne and
Knightsbridge, standing next to him before the altar. They were big men, with the
same competent ease that Adam had, men who knew their capabilities and had tested
their own self-worth. Charlotte, Jane, and Sophia were there for her, looking lovely
in gowns of various shades of blue.

The ceremony itself was a blur, and she focused on his face, on the tenderness in
his eyes, the proud smile he wore, as if he’d really won a prize marrying her. It
touched her heart. He was her husband now, and it was strange and wonderful and frightening
all at once. Soon she was alone in a carriage with Adam for the short drive back to
his home—their home.

He grinned and then gave her a possessive kiss. “Hello, Duchess.”

She was speechless at the title, but he just laughed and kissed her again.

At Rothford Court, the orange flowers in her hair were reproduced in sugar atop the
wedding cake. The wedding breakfast was more of a dinner than morning fare, cold lobster
salad and chicken, ham and game pie, jellies and sweets. And at last, Adam was able
to introduce her to his friends from the army.

Viscount Blackthorne, the lone one of the three still with the Eighth Dragoon Guards
and a sergeant, not an officer, had a broad face and stark cheekbones beneath his
brown hair. His expression serious and intelligent, he bowed over her hand. “Best
wishes, Your Grace.”

Faith almost turned around to see if Adam’s mother was behind her. The shiver she
felt was mostly nerves. “Thank you so much, my lord.”

His wife, whom he’d married while half a world apart, also pressed her hand and smiled.
She was the former Lady Cecilia Mallory, daughter of the Earl of Appertan, the late
commander of the Eighth Dragoons. She was the picture of innocent English beauty,
with blond hair and vivid blue eyes, but she was a woman who’d managed her father’s
great estates, and planned to do the same for her husband.

“Your Grace,” Lady Blackthorne said, “I am so glad you were married before our ship
departs. We are leaving for India within the month, so my husband can return to his
regiment.”

“Oh, I do hope we haven’t kept you from all you must do!” Faith said.

“Nonsense,” Lord Blackthorne said. “Cecilia already has everything well organized.
I’m glad for the excuse to make her relax and enjoy a good party.”

“It seems you married your match, Michael,” said the other man, Lord Knightsbridge,
in a dry, amused voice.

He was a handsome man with deep black hair and vivid green eyes, the latter of which
fondly returned to his wife, who held his arm. Lady Knightsbridge, her light brown
hair styled simply, looked in Faith’s general direction, but her beautiful amber eyes
were blank. It was her smile that made her striking, full of happiness and confidence.
She was obviously no invalid, as so many of the blind were usually treated. She was
a woman who’d been widowed, secluded deliberately by her family, and then had moved
to an inherited property and managed her own life.