Redemption of the Duke (4 page)

“Yes, she is.” Even a woman hard of hearing would have understood Adelia’s words.

“He cuts a dashing figure.” Miss Bury clucked her tongue and shook her head as the
duke swept past, partnered with the prettiest girl there.

Faith nodded, but found herself reluctantly watching them. He knew the steps of the
quadrille as if he hadn’t been an army officer for several years—she wasn’t sure how
long he’d actually been gone.

They made a handsome couple, and many people seemed to be watching them, even though
others lined up in the dance. Then he “graciously” offered his skills to other young
ladies, including Adelia, who flushed and seemed to be breathing so rapidly she might
have set off a swoon.

Then he started on the wallflowers, coming closer and closer to her chair with each
dance. Miss Bury was beside herself at his generosity and consideration, talking about
each young lady’s future delight at being so singled out.

But Faith’s unease and trepidation was growing as he came closer. He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t
dare ask
her
to—

For a moment, a sense of exhilaration swept over her, the feeling of being the focus
of a man’s attention, something she’d seldom experienced.

Then she caught site of Charlotte’s white face, the way she pressed her lips together
in disapproval. At the duke’s outrageous behavior? Or did she think that Faith had
somehow called it down on herself?

Two seats down from her, His Grace bowed over the hand of a plump girl whose mother
swooned into her husband’s arms at the honor of it all.

The duke met Faith’s shocked gaze and smiled. She inhaled sharply, then escaped the
instant they stepped onto the dance floor.

In the corridor near the ladies’ retiring room, she leaned against the wall and simply
breathed, her eyes closed with exhaustion—mental and emotional exhaustion at least.

Why was he focusing on her like this, teasing her—practically
flirting
with her? Of course he wanted his own way, a salve for his conscience, but was this
how rakes got whatever they wanted?

And she wasn’t innocent, though she was not married. As an adolescent, she’d become
close to her neighbor, Timothy Gilpin, son of a baron. She’d spent her childhood exploring
their library, and later, she’d explored more than that with Timothy. She’d been without
a dowry, not pretty, with no prospects for the future. And her curiosity—and his—had
led them both to an afternoon concealed near the river.

Closing her eyes, she dropped her chin to her chest and sighed. She’d always been
too curious for her own good. But she didn’t think her curiosity had led to her problems
with the duke—no, that was all on his head. Surely he would grow bored with her soon
enough.

At last, she reentered the drawing room—where the duke wouldn’t dare to approach her,
where she was free to watch him—and attached herself to Adelia. He spent much of the
next hour with his sister and mother. His sister had a pretty vivaciousness that attracted
much male attention. It was obvious that his mother still possessed the same lure,
for she was no matron in a lace cap. Yet, she was still a mother, doting on the duke,
and bringing him to the notice of her friends and their daughters.

Faith was very glad when the Warburtons decided to leave for home, so she no longer
had to watch the duke and his family. But later that night, as she was washing out
Adelia’s chemise, she found herself imagining having a houseful of servants to help
her with such tasks.

No, she would not think of such temptations.

A
t Rothford Court the next afternoon, Adam almost escaped his sister. She’d watched
him curiously at dinner the previous evening, but they’d had little chance to talk
since. He’d breakfasted before her, and she’d had a luncheon elsewhere. But they passed
in the entrance hall when she was on her way in with their sister-in-law, Marian,
and he had no choice but to allow her to drag him into the small family drawing room,
with its more intimate seating that encouraged confidences.

He didn’t have any confidences he wished to share, especially not in front of Marian,
who had long ago mastered the art of looking bored and overly curious at the same
time.

“You were quite the dance partner last night,” Sophia said.

“After six years in India and Afghanistan, you surely cannot blame me for enjoying
such pleasures.” Adam walked to the window to stare out nonchalantly, making sure
the women knew he had to be elsewhere soon.

“I hear the British Society in India is tolerable.” Marian sniffed.

“Bombay and Calcutta have dances and musicales, all the usual entertainments, but
sadly, I was not often in those towns.”

“You wrote me from places with exotic names, like Mehmoodabad”—Sophia stumbled a bit
over the word—“and Dubba.”

“Believe me, the names are the most exotic things about them. You don’t want to hear
about such places,” he chided. He thought of the dirt and blood and death, Afghani
mountains, Indian jungles—all things he’d put behind him.

“Then tell us about your dance partners,” Sophia said sweetly.

Trapped,
he thought with admiration.

Marian eyed him. “You had a number of them, none of which were suited to your attention.”

“Marian,” Sophia said with mild reproof.

She shrugged. “It’s true.”

Sophia bit her lip.

“Ladies,” Adam said, “I danced with the women who seemed the most eager to dance.”

Sophia clapped her hands together. “It is rare to see the other men disgruntled because
you showed them up so. I thought you were kind to dance with the wallflowers.”

He inwardly winced. He was glad to seem kind, when really he’d wanted to bother Miss
Cooper, to force her to consider him and his offer. In the end, he
was
being kind, at least to her.

Or was he growing obsessed?

He glanced again out the window, wondering how much longer his sister would continue
to tease him—and saw the actual object of his campaign. Miss Cooper was walking slowly
past Rothford Court, staring up openmouthed, but not stopping.

He felt a rush of triumph—and attraction, which no longer surprised him. Miss Cooper
was not your ordinary woman, though aligned with the wallflowers of Society.

“Ladies, excuse me,” he said, heading swiftly toward the door.

“But Adam,” Sophia called, “I wanted to ask you about Miss Fogge!”

“I’ll return later!”

He hurried past the footman, who betrayed no emotion other than a widening of the
eyes.

“Your Grace, shall I fetch a cloak?” he called as Adam opened the door.

“I won’t be gone long.”

Outside, he hurried down the marble stairs and the walkway to the gates. The wind
picked up near the street, penetrating his coat, but he didn’t mind the chill, because
Miss Cooper had seen him. And increased her speed. The chase was on.

He glanced at the house once more, and saw the curtains move in the family drawing
room. At the pace Miss Cooper was setting, he’d thankfully be out of sight of his
sister before catching up with the woman.

Because who knew what Sophia might see?

And Adam felt himself coming back to life.

Chapter 4

H
e was coming for her—and Faith felt like an utter fool. What had possessed her to
go out of her way to walk past Rothford Court?

But there was also a dangerous excitement making her breath come quickly, her heart
pound, as she glanced over her shoulder and saw him threading his way through the
light crowd, making people stop and gape at him. He wasn’t chasing
her
, she told herself. He was chasing the terrible mistakes of his past. She was a means
to an end.

If she rationally understood this, why did she feel this way?

Because he was a man, and he was showing interest. She was disappointed in herself.
The duke’s focus on her was bringing back excitement, the dark world of desire.

She was carrying a set of handkerchiefs wrapped in paper and string, finished with
her errand for Adelia. Where else could she go? The duke was gaining on her slowly,
as if he was enjoying himself, drat him.

The only safe place was the Warburton town house. When she reached the front door,
she turned to give him a triumphant smile. It faded away when she saw him opening
the gate. With a gasp, she fled inside, then managed to walk sedately past the butler
and up the stairs toward Adelia’s room, even as she heard a knock at the front door.

She swallowed hard, but could not believe he’d ask for her. That would cause too much
talk, even for a duke.

She knocked on Adelia’s door, and when the girl called for her entrance, she found
her holding two different necklaces up in the mirror.

“Oh, Miss Cooper, do give me your opinion. I’m to have luncheon with Mama and her
friends, and one of them is the mother of an earl and—”

Her flow of words was interrupted by another knock, and Faith hesitated before opening
it.

The maid bobbed a curtsy and looked past Faith to say excitedly, “Miss Adelia, you
have a very important visitor—a duke!”

Faith gritted her teeth even as Adelia’s mouth dropped open and the necklaces fell
unheeded to the floor.

“Shall I tell him to return when your mother is at home?” the maid continued.

“No! Oh, dear, Miss Cooper, whatever shall I do? Mama would hate for me to miss such
an opportunity—what if he never came again because I would not see him? Oh, oh, yes,
I have you to sit with us, do I not?” she said with an eager smile. “I cannot believe
it—a duke, come to call upon me!”

And what could Faith say to that? It seemed a cruel trick upon the girl, and Faith
felt a party to it, which irritated her no end. She’d led the duke on a merry chase,
and now she would be punished for it.

For punishment it was. Soon, she was curtsying before Rothford, allowing Adelia to
introduce them as if they’d never met. Her cheeks were hot with a blush, and she imagined
Adelia must think her flustered to be meeting such a lofty personage.

And what was the duke thinking? Surely he was pleased with his teasing—perhaps he
thought all of this would make her simply give in to him. And
that
would not happen.

Like a good companion, Faith tried to pick up her needlework and retreat to a chair
near the window, away from the two of them.

“Come, come, Miss Cooper,” Rothford said, “I shall feel cruel to ignore you, is that
not right, Miss Warburton?”

“Of course,” Adelia gushed. “Miss Cooper is my dearest companion.”

Faith reluctantly sat on the sofa next to Adelia, whose smile was so bright as to
be brittle, while the duke took his seat in a chair opposite them. He and Adelia exchanged
remarks on the weather until the maid brought a tea service, which Adelia poured prettily.
She was trying so hard and Faith felt worse and worse that the duke might simply be
using her.

Or maybe he was using Faith to see Adelia—why did that give her thoughts of ill humor?
But he’d been known to be in a fast crowd, to do reckless things, had he not? Perhaps
he did not care if he hurt a girl’s feelings. Everyone had flaws, including her—and
her flaw seemed to be liking men such as he. She’d never known that about herself,
had never met a rake and scoundrel before.

But he’d seemed so sincere in his grief at her brother’s death, in his need to make
amends. Which was the true man?

“Is this your first Season in London, Miss Warburton?” he asked after taking a sip
of his tea.

“It is, Your Grace. If not for the trains, it would have taken us so dreadfully long
to arrive. Are not modern conveniences wonderful?”

“I must certainly agree. Before the steamship, it took six months to reach India a
few years ago. Imagine my delight on returning home, it took only six weeks.”

“India must be a beautiful country,” Adelia said dreamily.

Faith could not help glancing at Rothford’s face, knowing what she did about his experiences
in that country.

“I was not prepared for its beauty,” he said solemnly. “There are temples within the
mysteries of mango groves, boating along the river at night, colored lanterns at the
prows on the return, like many-colored fireflies. The native people often had their
women dance for us, nautch-girls draped in scarves and jewels that winked in the torchlight.”

Faith felt under the spell of the images he wove in her imagination, and saw that
Adelia was all agog.

Then the duke’s gaze focused back on them, and he cleared his throat before sipping
again at his tea.

Was he embarrassed? She could not believe it of him, he of the bold, teasing words,
and the determination to have his way, regardless of what she wanted. Didn’t most
men simply talk of their horses and carriages? That seemed the normal conversation
Adelia had with her occasional young man.

But Rothford had found something to admire in India, even though it had cost him the
lives of friends—although she couldn’t quite imagine Mathias good friends with a
duke.

“You make me quite want to visit India,” Adelia said politely.

“Many young ladies do. There is a whole British Society in Calcutta and now Bombay.”

“The heat, though—I do not do well in the heat. I much prefer the English countryside
at the height of summer.”

“And what about you, Miss Cooper?” the duke asked.

She pricked her thumb with the needle at his question, then hid it in her skirt pocket
with her handkerchief. He smiled at her knowingly.

“Forgive my concentration, Your Grace, but what was your question again?”

Adelia shot her horrified look, as if Faith’s conduct toward a duke shamed her.

“I wondered if you like the heat of summer or prefer the cool countryside?”

“Why . . . I imagine I do not have a preference. The summer’s warmth can feel lovely
after a long winter, but a woman’s garments do not make the enjoyment of it easy.”

Color stained Adelia’s cheeks, and Faith realized it might be improper to discuss
clothing with a man.

“Uh . . . I mean—I meant—”

“No, no, I understand your meaning,” he said heartily. “Wool can be deuced uncomfortable
in a man’s suit, as well. A refreshing honesty you have there. Miss Cooper must be
easy to talk to, eh, Miss Warburton? But then that’s why you chose her as your companion.”

“Very true, Your Grace,” Adelia said softly. “Might I pour you more tea?”

He took his leave after the appropriate quarter of an hour, bowing to them both, until
Faith could have rolled her eyes. After the butler saw him out, the maid pressed herself
to the window of the small entrance hall to watch him walk away, until the butler
sent her off with an ominous frown of disapproval.

In the drawing room, Adelia, too, was standing at the window, and Faith half expected
a scolding.

“The Duke of Rothford visited me,” Adelia said on a dreamy sigh.

Faith gave her a gentle smile. “He is a very polite man.”

Adelia eyed her. “Even with your foolishness. Really, Miss Cooper, should not a companion
be less easily flustered?”

Faith nodded soberly.

A
dam was not going to abandon the notion of helping Miss Cooper, even though his impromptu
visit at the Warburtons’ town house had caused Lady Warburton to trumpet the news
all over London, as if he were actively courting her daughter. Three days later, at
another ball, he escorted his aunt, who gave up plans for the opera when he insisted
she attend the ball with him. She studied him with narrowed eyes, then did not question
him, only refused to change her gown, though Marian professed that it was completely
wrong for a ball. But fashion had never concerned Aunt Theodosia.

In the carriage, his aunt studied him openly, and he wondered if she was looking for
a weakness to exploit, so she could discover his purpose. That amused him, but he
concealed his smile.

He shouldn’t be enjoying the chase of Miss Cooper so much, especially since it all
began with a tragedy he helped cause. It wasn’t like the pursuit of a lover, full
of intrigue and desire, but it was almost taking the place of that, which even he
found strange.

At the ball, he remained at his aunt’s side, though her friends tried to draw her
into the refreshment room, and his tried to draw him to the card room. Lord Shenstone
stood watching him, curly auburn hair somewhat subdued by Macassar oil. He didn’t
talk, only smirked, like Adam’s fall from grace was only a matter of time. Adam nodded
politely, but he wasn’t ready to deal with the friend who’d once accompanied him to
the worst places in London.

He spotted Miss Cooper standing with a group of dowdy-looking women near a wall, trying
to look older than she really was. He ducked behind a column and pulled his aunt with
him.

She rapped his forearm with her fan. “What is so important that we must be concealed?”

“I need your help with a young lady,” he said. He’d given up thought of using his
sister to lure Miss Cooper. Sophia was too obviously good at making her own friends,
and Miss Cooper had seen that.

“Who are you talking about?” She blinked at him, then lifted her monocle and studied
him like a bug disturbing the butterfly collection she’d created when she joined the
Entomological Society.

“Miss Faith Cooper. But if she knows I’ve put you up to it, she’ll refuse, and I can’t
have that.”

“Do not tell me this is an amour of yours.”

He raised both hands. “She is not. But there is a connection, and she has refused
all of my offers of help.”

“Of course she has. It is highly improper for a woman to accept help from a man unless
she’s of service to him.”

He winced. “I don’t wish to discuss that with my aunt. Just let me point her out to
you, but don’t let her see you’re with me.”

“Is she a shopkeeper you’d like to elevate?”

“Aunt Theodosia, you do not have to believe the worst of me anymore,” he said sternly.

She eyed him with twinkling eyes. “I do not, believe me. But you were always such
a scalawag, and since you’ve returned from India, some of the . . . spark has gone
out of you. This is the most excitement you’ve shown since you returned. Perhaps you
should explain.”

He exhaled. “Just look at her first, will you? She’s not a shopkeeper, but a gentleman’s
daughter from the North who fell on hard times because of me. She’s the companion
to the daughter of Baron Warburton. Do you know of him?”

“I know of the family, but he seldom comes to London, so I would not recognize him
on sight.”

He peered around the column and spotted Miss Cooper. “She’s seated with the other
wallflowers, third from the corner, ridiculous clothing and dark hair pulled back
severely to make her look older.”

Aunt Theodosia displayed her fan again and fluttered it before her face, leaving only
her eyes visible between her turban and the fan. “Ah, I see who you mean. Quite a
plain creature, for you.”

“I’ve told you I’m only interested in helping her.”

She leaned back against the column and gazed up at him. “Why?” she asked simply, all
amusement gone from her wrinkled face.

The truth tumbled out, and he told her everything. Her eyes grew moist, but she did
not cry.

“Oh, Adam,” she murmured when he was done. “Surely in your heart of hearts, you know
this was an accident of war, that you made the best decision you could, with the only
information you had available.”

“That doesn’t matter, does it?” he said bitterly. “Her brother is just as dead, and
she lost her only means of support. My actions have kept her from marrying, have forced
her to work for a family that uses her as a lady’s maid, for God’s sake, when she’s
a gentlewoman. Three men died, Aunt; my friends Knightsbridge and Blackthorne are
doing what they can to help the other two victims’ families. I will not fail to do
my part, even though Miss Cooper resists everything I try.”

“Does she know why you want to aid her?” she asked gently.

“I told her the truth, and of course she’s furious with me, but . . . her rejection
isn’t all about that, I think, although I do not know its true source.”