The Broken Duke Page 4

  “Doing?” he repeated, and felt rather stupid for parroting her.

  She nodded. “You’re playing with me. You’ve been in ballrooms with me dozens of times and never spared me so much as a glance.”

  He shifted slightly. “Well, I’m no longer engaged now.”

  Her brow wrinkled and her hands unclenched in front of her. She stared at him for a beat, two, too long, too close. And then she shocked him by stepping around him and moving back into the ballroom.

  “Good night, Your Grace,” she tossed over her shoulder, utterly cold and dismissive.

  He turned to watch her go, watched her shut the door behind her and leave him alone on the terrace. And he was shocked that what he wanted to do was follow her. Catch her arm. Force her to continue their interaction.

  Which was not something he had expected when he chose her to dance with. And it wasn’t something he wanted. Not at all.

  Adelaide’s face felt hot as fire as she reentered the ballroom to the rising whispers of those in attendance. Dozens of pairs of eyes swept to her and most narrowed as they gossiped behind their fans. But it wasn’t their chatter that made her dizzy and uncomfortable.

  It was Northfield. Damnable Northfield and his intense stare and his lovely smell and the way he could focus on a person and make her feel like she was singular and important and beautiful. Of course she knew something most women in her position wouldn’t.

  He could do it to any woman. After all, just a day before he’d been attempting to seduce Lydia, so how could his flirtation on the terrace with her—Adelaide her, real her—mean anything to him? Worse, why did she want it to mean anything? This man’s interest in her was only dangerous to her double life. The best thing she could do was shrug away from him in both her domains and hope he’d go away forever.

  “Adelaide?”

  She turned to find Emma, Duchess of Abernathe, approaching her. Adelaide couldn’t help but smile, despite her stirred up emotions. She and Emma had been friends for years as they stood along the wall together. And she had hardly seen Emma for months now, thanks to the duchess’s marriage, her pregnancy and the upheaval that had followed.

  She stepped forward, hands outstretched, and Emma hugged her tightly, or as tightly as she could manage with her sweet rounded belly in the way.

  Adelaide laughed as they parted and let a hand slip to the swell. “You must be going into confinement soon, to await the birth of this ball you’re keeping in your belly.”

  Emma smiled, and she looked so happy that Adelaide hardly recognized her as the warm but worried friend she had counted on for so long.

  “Whatever is in there moves around too much now to be a ball,” Emma said. “But yes, only a few more events and I will be sliding into my confinement here in London. James insists on that, so I will be close to doctors.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and Adelaide followed her gaze to the very handsome Duke of Abernathe. He was an intimidating person, for he was the golden child of Society. And yet Emma had not only landed him as a husband, but tempted him into deep and abiding love for her, if his puppy dog expression was any indication.

  “The man moons over you,” Adelaide whispered. “So the rumors are true.”

  “Yes,” Emma said with a satisfied grin. “I have bewitched him, body and soul, as he has done to me. It’s a love match, indeed, and I could not be happier.”

  Adelaide ignored the twinge of jealousy that momentarily stung her, and squeezed her friend’s hand. “No one deserves that more, Emma. No one in the world.”

  “Well, there’s you,” Emma suggested. “I’m so happy to see you. And so sorry that with all the rush and commotion of the past few months I haven’t been able to see you sooner.”

  “You know my aunt never would have allowed me to come to Abernathe for your wedding, even if I could have made it in time,” Adelaide said with a sigh.

  Emma’s frown deepened. “She is still the same then.”

  “Oh, Aunt Opal never changes. She’s as predictable as the sun rising and setting each day. She wants me to be out in Society, but she likes how I’m on the fringes. Get too full of myself, as she puts it, and she’ll slap me down as soon as pour me tea.”

  Emma shivered. “But she hasn’t actually…struck you?”

  Adelaide caught her breath. Not that long ago, she and her aunt had gotten into a row, a dreadful one. Over things Emma didn’t know. Not her acting career, for her aunt was as in the dark as anyone, but something else. Something harder. More painful. And in the heat of the moment, her aunt had struck her so hard that Adelaide had been forced to cry off parties for two weeks while the bruise around her eye had healed.

  Of course Emma had come to call and seen the result of the attack. Her friend had never forgotten that act of violence. Adelaide hadn’t fully forgiven it. It had been part of her reckless rebellion that had led her to the stage.

  “No,” Adelaide said softly. “Not since that one time.”

  Emma let out her breath on a sigh. Then she linked arms with Adelaide. “Will you come and meet my family, then?” she asked. “I so want you to like them as much as I do.”

  “Certainly,” Adelaide said, letting her friend draw her toward Abernathe. But then her breath caught. Standing with the man were the Duke and Duchess of Crestwood. She’d thought they’d stepped away, but they seemed to be back. Not that it was surprising. After all, the duchess was Abernathe’s sister. Which made her Emma’s sister now, too.

  Emma drew her up, almost bubbling with excitement as they reached the group. “James, do you remember my friend Lady Adelaide?”

  Abernathe turned a broad smile to Adelaide and she couldn’t help catching her breath. He was certainly well put together. Not as much as his friend Northfield, but one could not deny that Emma had made a fine catch.

  “Lady Adelaide,” he said, taking her hand and drawing it to his lips briefly. “How wonderful to see you. My wife speaks so highly of you, I cannot imagine we will be anything but fast friends.”

  Adelaide smiled, for there was an honesty to this man. He wasn’t playing a game—he really wanted to like her, if only to make Emma happy. And since no one had spent much time ever making Emma happy, it pleased Adelaide greatly to see that her love match was truly that.

  “I look forward to that, Your Grace,” she said with a slight nod for him. “After all, we have a great deal in common thanks to our shared love of Emma.”

  Emma blushed and waved at them with one fluttering hand. “Gracious, you’ll swell my head as large as my stomach with such talk. Adelaide, may I also present to you my brother and sister-in-law, the Duke and Duchess of Crestwood.”

  Adelaide turned slowly to the two people she’d been trying to ignore and found herself looking into two smiling, rather kind faces. The Duke of Crestwood was handsome, with blue eyes that were darker than Northfield’s and a mischievous air. But he was not the main focus of her attention. Adelaide took in the duchess more closely.

  Margaret was lovely. No one could say she wasn’t lovely. With dark hair that had lighter highlights, deep brown eyes, and a lithe, lovely figure, there was no doubt why the woman had been the center of Society for so long. But when Adelaide looked at her, all she could see was Northfield’s handsome face, twisted with that twinge of pain and betrayal when the two entered the room.

  And a strong dislike shot through Adelaide at that memory.

  “Lady Adelaide,” the duchess said, reaching out a hand to greet her. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance. Emma speaks so highly of you, I feel as though I already know you.”

  Adelaide took the duchess’s hand with reluctance and shook it briefly. “Your Grace,” she said, her tone cool.

  If the duchess sensed her withdrawal, she made no indication. Adelaide was next greeted by the duke, who was as friendly as his wife. She knew under normal circumstances she would have liked them both.

  But in that moment, she felt…hesitant. No, not hesitant. That wasn’t the r
ight word at all. What she felt was protective. Of Northfield. A man she hardly knew and one who didn’t give a whit about her.

  It was ludicrous.

  The group chatted for a moment, about meaningless things. But Adelaide couldn’t help her stare slipping back to Margaret again and again. And she noticed the duchess looked at her, too, more than anyone else. Perhaps because she was the newest addition to their circle. Perhaps because she’d noticed Adelaide dancing earlier with her former fiancé.

  Not that the woman had any right to feelings on the subject.

  With a frown, Adelaide turned her attention back to Emma and was about to ask her about her beautiful gown when there was the sound of a throat clearing behind her. “Adelaide.”

  Adelaide stiffened at her aunt’s voice, saying her name in the same icy tone she’d been saying it for a decade and a half, since her parents died and Aunt Opal had been forced to take her in.

  She glanced at Emma, finding her friend smiling with encouragement at her, and slowly turned. “Aunt Opal,” she said with false lightness. “There you are. May I introduce you to the Duke of Abernathe, Emma’s new husband, and his brother-in-law and sister, the Duke and Duchess of Crestwood.”

  Her aunt nodded vaguely at the group. “Good evening. And good night, for I’m afraid it is time for Adelaide and me to go.”

  Adelaide’s lips parted. It was not even ten yet, the party would go on for at least a few hours more. Of course, her aunt didn’t care. Opal often got it into her head that the night was over and there was no arguing.

  Emma stepped forward before Adelaide could respond. “Oh, Lady Opal, could we not persuade you to allow Adelaide to stay? This is the first time I’ve seen her in an age and I so want to catch up. My husband and I would happily stand in your stead as chaperones and take her home once the night was over.”

  Opal looked Emma up and down slowly, and Adelaide tensed. Her aunt was capable of behaving very strangely, which Emma knew, but which could also damage Adelaide’s position in Abernathe’s eyes, or the eyes of the Crestwoods.

  “I’m not certain I would trust you as chaperone, Emma,” Opal said softly, and let her gaze slip first to Abernathe, then to Margaret and her husband.

  Adelaide gasped. “Aunt Opal!” she burst out, sending Emma an apologetic look. She could hardly stand to look at James or his family, for she could already see his outraged expression and the shock on the faces of the Duke and Duchess of Crestwood.

  “I beg your pardon, madam?” James said, just as softly as Aunt Opal had, but with a dangerous undercurrent that spoke of all the power this man had to wield if he chose to.

  Emma reached back and gently touched his arm before she said, “I would never let Adelaide come to any grief. I believe you know that, my lady.”

  “Perhaps you wouldn’t at that,” Opal said with a shrug, the cruelty gone from her voice. Whether that was because she feared the subtle strength of Abernathe or because she had simply vented all of it already, Adelaide couldn’t say. “Still, our night is over. You will have plenty of time to catch up with Adelaide in the coming weeks, as I hear you will spend your confinement in the city. Good evening.”

  Opal caught Adelaide’s arm and guided her none too gently away from her friends. Adelaide gave Emma an apologetic look as she called out, “Good night!”

  She shrugged out of her aunt’s grasp as they made their way across the room together and glared at her. “Why in the world did you make a scene with my friends?”

  Opal said nothing as she exited into the foyer and signaled to a footman. She was just as silent as they awaited the carriage and were eventually helped into the vehicle that would take them home. Only when they were alone together did her aunt fold her arms and glare at Adelaide.

  “You speak of me making scenes? I turn my back on you for ten minutes and you create one of your own.”

  Adelaide pressed her lips together. “Are you talking about me dancing with the Duke of Northfield?”

  “Dancing would have been bad enough,” Opal said with a snort of disgust. “That man is dragging scandal behind him like it’s chained to his legs. But what I was referring to was your going out onto a terrace alone with him.”

  Adelaide’s lips parted. “Aunt Opal, I merely took a breath of air with him. It is not uncommon for a pair to take a turn on the terrace together.”

  She did not, of course, add that she had been attracted to Northfield. Nor that she had lost herself to wild abandon with him in a dressing room. Her aunt would likely do more than strike her if she knew those bitter truths.

  “But you are not a common woman,” Opal hissed. “We already know you have no ability to control your wanton ways. It’s in your very blood. A man like Northfield must be able to sniff that out on you.”

  Adelaide’s chest tightened. “That was a long time ago, Aunt Opal.”

  Opal turned her face away and looked out the carriage window into the darkness of the street. “Once a wanton, always a wanton,” she hissed.

  Adelaide flopped back against the seat and shut her eyes. “What do you want from me?” she asked. “If I’m such a disappointment, why push me to continue in Society? It’s like a tightrope with you. Not too much, not too little. I hardly know how to satisfy you.”

  Opal glared at her but didn’t reply, and sank into one of her infamous silent treatments. Adelaide sighed, but in truth she welcomed the coldness. It was better than being railed at. Than being reminded of heartbreaks long past. Of wanton impulses that seemed to be reborn when she was around Northfield.

  And perhaps that was the best reason of all to avoid him from now on.

  Chapter Five

  When Emma glided through the parlor door the next day, Adelaide couldn’t help but smile widely. The two women embraced and then took their places for tea, and for a moment it felt like nothing had changed between them.

  Except that Emma’s pregnant belly and Adelaide’s wandering mind made it clear that a great deal had. Soon it seemed there was no avoiding that fact, for after a while Emma set her cup down and speared her with an appraising look.

  “We’ve talked enough about me and my new life,” she said. “I want to talk about you.”

  Adelaide shifted. “What is there to talk about? While you went off and fell in love, I have been here in London, doing as I always do. I’m quite predictable, you know.”

  Emma arched a delicate brow. “Are you? I don’t think you are. As long as I’ve known you, I have always suspected your still waters ran very deep, indeed.”

  Adelaide held back a laugh. If only Emma knew the truth, she would be shocked. How many times had Adelaide thought to tell her about how she had turned to the theatre, about what had driven her there…even now she wanted to talk to her about Northfield, get her insider information about the man.

  She did none of those things. “You are too adorable, my friend,” Adelaide insisted, though she kept her gaze away from Emma’s. “To think I might have secrets that I could keep from you.”

  “I saw you dancing with Graham last night,” Emma said softly.

  Graham. Adelaide stopped short at the use of his Christian name. It was safer to think of him as Northfield. Northfield was a title, a dukedom, it meant distance. Almost like he wasn’t…real. Graham was a person. A man. A man with full lips that tasted of sherry, with strong arms and with a brokenness that she couldn’t help but want to fix, even though it wasn’t her place in either of her double lives.

  “Adelaide?”

  Adelaide blinked, shrugging off her thoughts as best she could. “The room at large saw me dancing with Northfield,” she said. “What could I do when he asked? Refusing would have been so rude.”

  Emma hesitated. “Do you know him?”

  “No,” Adelaide said swiftly. “Not really at all. I mean, I’ve seen him. We always saw those men in that club that your husband lords over.”

  Emma’s smile softened. “The 1797 Club,” she clarified. “A brotherhood of dukes with very
bad fathers.”

  Adelaide frowned. “Not much of a brotherhood considering what Crestwood did to Northfield.”

  Emma stiffened, and Adelaide immediately wished she could snatch the words back. They felt too emotional, and they were her rushing to the defense of a man she had just claimed she knew nothing about.

  She focused on refreshing their cups of tea. “Or so gossips say,” she added.

  Emma shook her head. “It is so much more complicated than gossip says, I assure you. It’s an unfortunate situation, of course, and Graham is very much entitled to his feelings.”

  “I should say so,” Adelaide grumbled, her mind turning once again to the desperation on his face when he’d asked her to dance the night before.

  Emma arched a brow and continued, “But Meg and Simon are very sorry for the circumstances. They almost lost their chance at happiness in some bid to make up for what they did.”

  Adelaide wrinkled her brow. Seeing them so happy the night before, it was hard to picture Northfield’s suffering keeping them up at night. But Emma seemed adamant and she had never been one to lie. It wasn’t in her nature.

  “I’m sure I don’t know anything about it,” Adelaide said with a wave of her hand. “And I doubt I shall spent any time with Northfield again, so it is really none of my business.”

  “Is that why you don’t like Meg?” Emma pressed.

  Adelaide had taken a sip of tea and she nearly spit it out across the room. She wiped her mouth as she tried to regain some composure.

  “Not like the Duchess of Crestwood?” she repeated. “Why in the world would you think that?”

  Emma leaned in. “Because I know you, best friend of mine. I can see when you are false and when you are true. You were odd last night with her.” She shook her head. “Come to think of it, you’ve been odd a great deal lately. Even before I married. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  Once again Adelaide considered confessing all she had to hide to her friend, but decided against it. It was too high a risk. “Of course not.” She sought a change of subject and found it. Though it was not a topic that pleased her as she said, “I’m sorry my aunt was so wretched to you last night.”