Sacrifice (Fashionably Impure Book 3) (2 page)

“Then
you realize the risk you’re taking.”

“I would
die to protect her.” The words were ripped from Adrian.

“This
may require a deeper, more lasting sacrifice. May I speak plainly, my lord?”

Adrian
nodded, curtly.

“Your
father was a seducer, an adulterer, stalking his prey amid the daughters and
wives of Mayfair. He was also a known cheat at cards, a lair, a swindler, a
gentleman who failed to show for several duels, something for which a gentleman
will never be forgiven.”

“Yes, he
was all that. Probably more,” Adrian admitted with, tersely.

“Your
father’s personality and actions have created many difficulties for you,
socially, with your peers.”

Adrian
nodded, another quick, curt motion. What good did it do to deny this truth?

“He also
left you in relative desperate financial straits for a man of your rank.”

“That he
did.”

“You’ve
worked hard to rebuild your reputation and wealth.”

Adrian
did not bother to voice the obvious.

“This
action you are contemplating could very well undo everything you’ve worked so
hard to rebuild. Are you prepared for that?”

“Of
course I am. I will do anything for her.”

Miranda
paused with her hand on the withdrawing chamber door. Her heart had stopped and
her blood went cold.

This
action you are contemplating could very well undo everything you’ve worked so
hard to rebuild. Are you prepared for that?

Faintness
swept over her. She’d heard enough of this conversation to know that Baron
Drake was trying to talk Adrian out of marrying her. Or at least making sure
that he understood the graveness of his action.

She had
not been aware that Adrian had any close friends aside from his cousins, the
Earl of Ruel and Mr. Charlie Sutherland. But obviously, the baron was an
intimate and did care deeply about Adrian’s welfare.

Her
heart beat sped at the gravity of the matter that Drake addressed. She had been
so giddy, so happy, so insanely in love with Adrian.

She had
been consumed with visions of the best aspects of their union, their future
happiness.

She had
been so
relieved
that she had managed to pull him off his trajectory of
self-destruction and to place his focus on a married life with his sons again.
Overjoyed that he was no longer in the vitality draining clutches of the likes
of Dorothy Sutherland even though she could take no joy in that lady’s tragic,
downward spiral into insanity.

But she
had spared little thought of what marrying beneath him would do to Adrian’s
reputation and relations with his peers. And he was not wealthy. He could not
so easily flout society’s standards.

She
believed that Adrian needed her.

But was
she so sure that she wasn’t being incredibly selfish in accepting his proposal?

A slip
of white caught her eye, a stark contrast against the gleaming polished floor.
The bill from the delivery boy. It must have dropped from her hand and drifted
to the floor when she had overheard Drake’s warning.

Oh yes.
She had been coming to her study to retrieve some money. She paid immediately
whenever she could. It put one in good with tradesmen and helped them to
overlook providing services to a less than respectable residence.

She had
lived that kind of scorn and worry her whole life.

Adrian
had known the taint of his father’s disgraceful behavior and the shame of his
genteel poverty.

Yet, now
he managed to pull himself out of such disrepute.

How
would he feel about being plunged back into it upon their marriage?

“I would
do anything for her.” Adrian’s voice came through firm, determined. “Anything.”

Her legs
went weak.

Oh God.

She
leaned against the door. He was resolved to wed her. She knew that. Adrian.

He
needed her.

And God
knew that she needed him.

She
loved him so dearly, so completely that she couldn’t imagine living without
him.

They
would just have to face the fire together.

****

“What’s
Drake doing here?”

The Earl
of Ruel’s aggrieved tone barely registered in Adrian’s mind as he kept his gaze
focused on his reflection as he slowly, automatically tied his cravat into a
complex enough knot to convey the respect due his own wedding day.

“Are you
even listening to me?” Jon asked, sounding more aggrieved.

“He’s a
friend.” Adrian frowned and began undoing his neck wear.

“A
friend!”

“He’s
helping me with some things.”

“The man
is dangerous.”

“Aye, I
think he is.” Adrian’s mind was still a whirl. Just when the conversation had
become most interesting, Miranda had knocked, needing to enter and retrieve her
purse to pay some tradesman.

Adrian
had been so consumed by the conversation that he had not even felt the least
annoyed that she had disobeyed his earlier command. When she had left, he and
Drake had discussed the grittier aspects of tracking down a gentleman. A duke.

Adrian
had never done such a thing before. The whole aspect would be quite daunting
without the older man’s advice. He was grateful.

Ruel was
still frowning at him.

Jon
would have an apoplexy if he knew that Adrian intended to use his trip to
America as a cover for hunting down Winterton and forcing him into a duel.

Well,
Jon didn’t understand.

Drake
did.

But he
couldn’t tell his cousin this. Not yet.

Jon’s
sigh of exasperation startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the
older man’s mouth twisting into a disgusted expression. He motioned to Adrian’s
neck. “You’re making a complete muss of that.” His disgust became more
pronounced. “Where’s your valet?”

“I
haven’t had time to call for him this morning.”

“But you
had time to send for Drake?”

Adrian
said nothing, this time jerking the knotted linen free. It wasn’t Jon’s
business who he kept company with. He wasn’t seventeen any longer.

Jon
approached him. “Give me that,” he said, reaching for the dangling edges of the
cravat.

Adrian
jerked away and forced himself to work more slowly, though his hands had begun
to shake with his rising excitement.

He would
soon face Winterton on the field of honor.

Sooner
than he had thought.

Which
lead him to something else…

“I won’t
be needing to wait for spring to leave for America.”

Jon
gaped at him. “What?”

“I’ll be
leaving for New York immediately.”

Jon
turned his palms up, a shocked gesture. “What are you saying? You have to be
trained in the finer points of shipbuilding.”

“Drake
says he has found me an assistant—”

“Drake
has found you an assistant?” Jon quickly interrupted.

“Yes, an
excellent assistant,” Adrian said, his fingers now moving smoothly, tying the
cravat into a beautiful semblance of the Waterfall.

Jon
stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me more about this
assistant.”

“He is
someone who knows the subject in depth. He will tutor me during our time in
transit and then accompany me on my tour of the American shipyards.”

Jon
sighed and turned away to stare out the window. “I don’t like this.”

“The
assistant?”

“Any of
this. You becoming friends with Drake. You marrying a night bird—”

“She’s
no night bird. She was Carrville’s mistress. It wasn’t as though she were
selling her wares at the theater.”

“Her
aunt does.”

Adrian
laughed, a cold amusement born of hatred. “Aye, Cassandra Jones does.” Then he
sobered. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t
it?”

“Not to
me.”

“She’s
Winterton’s daughter.”

“And
your point?”

“He’s
just as dangerous as Drake, in his way.”

“I am
not afraid of Winterton.”

Jon
whirled to face him. ”“You’re not? You should be.” His eyes narrowed. “He’s a
man with many powerful friends.”

“He’s a
duke; of course he has powerful friends.”

“Yes,
but as it happens, some of his friends were men that your father wronged.”

Ah, yes,
his father, the notorious adulterer, foolish, indiscreet, even reckless in his
pursuit of beauty.

What a
wonderful legacy for the Sutherlands.

“Ah,
yes, my father.” Adrian didn’t bother to hide his sardonic mood.

Jon’s
expression turned thoughtful. “You’ve worked very hard to rebuild friendships
and your reputation. Maybe you have worked harder at that than at rebuilding
your wealth.”

There
was a great deal of truth to what Jon said but Adrian said nothing, becoming
engrossed in wiping several specks of lint from his coat.

“The
Americans call that Federal Blue,” Jon said. “A coat like that will do quite
nicely for those sober folk. Take only your plainest waistcoats; it won’t do to
appear too flashy.”

“Flashy,
eh?” Adrian grinned yet in the mirror, the reflection of his eyes greeted him,
cold and full of his hunger to meet with Winterton.

“Come
now, Adrian, have you really thought this marriage through?”

“I
thought you were on my side,” Adrian replied.

“If you
are bound to have her, I would rather see her forced to share your genteel
poverty than have you set to kill yourself in order to earn enough coin to
afford her.”

“I
wasn’t killing myself.” Yet, Adrian knew that his constant late nights at the
gaming tables to earn money had kept him away from his sons.

Away
from Miranda.

“I do
question the wisdom of you shackling yourself to such a demanding woman for
life. She’s so young to be so acquisitive.”

“She’s
not so demanding or acquisitive.”

“I hear
she’s not on good terms with Winterton. He’s never acknowledged her. I even
heard him denigrate her as whore when Carrville first took her under his
protection.”

Coldness
rushed through Adrian, a peculiar sensation of deadly rage. “She’s no whore.
She is actually somewhat naïve, still innocent in the most unexpected ways.”

“Innocent?
Cassandra Jones sold her innocence in a notorious auction. The sum she managed
to wrangle out of gentlemen just for the pleasure to see her naked was
unprecedented.”

Adrian’s
gut tightened. The urge to ask Jon if he had been one of those men who had paid
sliced through him like a knife.

No, he
couldn’t live with knowing if it were true.

He
clamped his jaw to keep from asking.

“Winterton
can hurt your reputation and standing, make no mistake about it,” Jon said his
tone as characteristically fatalistic as it always was when he felt certain of
something dire.

“My mind
is set. I will have her as my wife.”

“Then I
think you ought to consider living away from England for a time. Take some time
during the coming voyage to America to consider my offer of a long-term
position.”

“In
India?”

“Yes.
You could make a real fortune to leave to your sons. Let the scandal of your
marriage die on the vine in your absence.”

“How
much of a scandal can it possibly cause? There will be talk for a season or two
at most.”

“The
scandal and talk may well last as long as Winterton feeds the flame.”

“A man
cannot be hurt so badly by mere words.”

“The
average man? No. But you? With your father’s legacy weighing on you?”

Adrian’s
gut tightened again, with the truth he knew Jon’s words held. “I am an
Englishman. This is my home. I will not be chased from it.”

“You’re
making quite a personal sacrifice for her. That’s your choice. But what of your
sons?”

“Bloody
hell, Jon, when did you become so fixated upon reputation and what others say?”
Adrian might have mentioned Anne Lloyd, Jon’s plump, dark, exotically beautiful
countess. She’d had quite the reckless run around the time of their marriage.
He remembered all the talk of her uncommon fondness for claret and her low-cut,
dangerously fashionable gowns. Then there was her indiscreet behavior with her
male cousin, the young Duke of Saxby, and then Saxby’s death too shortly after,
at the hands of his older wife, a woman who just happened to be Jon’s former
mistress. A woman who later vanished without any plausible explanation, right
after her lover, a man who happened to be Jon’s major political rival, had been
shot dead in his bed.