Scandalous Love (5 page)

Nicole nodded, too
bedazzled by him to do anything other than agree.

The Duke of Clayborough
had a tight rein on himself as he returned to Chapman Hall, the same strict
control he had been exercising since he had practically tumbled Nicole Shelton.
He was perturbed, even disturbed. For he could not deny what had happened. He
was a man of discipline, yet he had just lost his head—and every bit of iron
control he had. He had almost fornicated with Lady Shelton in the grass. She
had made him lose momentary control, and he did not like it. To make matters
worse, he was filled with anticipation of their next rendezvous.

And the Duke was not a
man who daydreamed about women, or anything else, for that matter.

Yet he was already
planning to sever his relationship with his current mistress, Miss Holland
Dubois, as soon as he returned to London. He had been bored with her this past
month; he had only visited her a half dozen times. To ease the separation, he
would shower her with a few jewels and a substantial amount of coin. He did not
look forward to the task, for mistresses invariably were furious when the
relationship was terminated, but she would have no trouble finding another
protector, for she was very beautiful, very accommodating and very skilled.

Perhaps he would remain
a bit longer at Chapman Hall. Instead of seeing Holland, he would be in bed
with Lady Shelton. His jaw hardened again. Just thinking about what was to come
aroused him, and he realized he was dangerously close to becoming infatuated
with her. Severely, he shook his thoughts free of her.

He was shocked when, as
soon as he had dismounted and handed his stallion to the head groom, Isobel
flew down the steps of Chapman Hall and approached him with the strides of an
angry soldier. "Hadrian," she said tightly. "Come inside, we
shall talk."

He had not a doubt that
he was about to get a rousing setdown for philandering
in residence,
and
while he did deserve it, he was not in the mood to hear it. "Mother, may I
remind you that I am not a boy of ten?" His tone was too polite.

"I do not need to
be reminded of that, Hadrian," she snapped. Abruptly she headed back for
the house, not waiting to see if he would follow.

The Duke sighed and
decided to humor her. He had stood by and helplessly watched his father's
callous and cruel treatment of her for too many years when he was a child not
to concede to her in this instance, silly as it was. That abuse had finally
stopped when he was fourteen. By then he was almost six feet tall, several
inches taller than Francis, and about the same weight. While their strength
might have been evenly matched, Francis did not have the power of rage on his
side, while Hadrian did. It was not the first time he had tried to prevent his
father from abusing his mother. When he was a child he had tried to come
between them, only to have the painful slaps Francis aimed at Isobel diverted
to him. When he grew larger, his attempts at protecting his mother were met
with a switch. When he was fourteen, all abuse had stopped, both that directed
at his mother, and that he suffered when he tried to interfere, for Hadrian
struck his father with one determined blow to his jaw, causing Francis to
crumble at his feet. He proceeded to hit him twice more, until he was coldly
satisfied that Francis would never dare to try and hurt his mother again. And
he hadn't.

So now, as much as he
resented her interference, he would hear her out respectfully and patiently.

Isobel promptly closed
the door to the small shabby library, leaving them in absolute privacy.
"Have you lost your mind?"

"To what,
precisely, are you referring?" As if he didn't know.

"Hadrian! It's
unseemly enough to have a paramour here, but, dear God! Nicole Shelton! How
could you?"

A sixth sense warned him
of imminent disaster. "I am afraid I am missing something of
consequence."

"Have you ruined
her?" Isobel demanded bluntly. "If you have, her father, Shelton,
will kill you, regardless of who you are!"

"Mother," he
said slowly, although his mind was racing, "I do not think we need to
discuss my—er— indiscretions."

"Have you ruined
her?" Isobel cried.

Anger reared within him.
"Of course I have not ruined her," he snapped. "The lady is no
spring maid, and I do not understand your interest."

"She is no spring
maid but she is Shelton's daughter, Hadrian, and it is not like you to—to—prey
on innocents!"

He drew himself up.
"Pardon me, but she is no innocent. I fear we are not discussing the same
lady."

"We are discussing
Lady Nicole Bragg Shelton, Dragmore's eldest daughter, and spinster or no,
scandal or no, you cannot ruin her!"

He stared, the color
seeping from his face. "Spinster?"

"Just what did you
think?"

"I thought,"
he began, and stopped. "She is unwed?" He could not believe it.

"She is unwed! She
was about to marry Lord Percy Hempstead four years ago, but she never showed up
for the wedding, leaving the poor fellow standing there alone at the altar. It
was a terrible scandal that, of course, ruined her chances for any other
marriage. Any other decent marriage, that is. Of course, Shelton could buy her
a husband, but what kind of man would he be? We both know Shelton, and I cannot
see him compromising his standards in such a manner. Regardless, Nicole is
quite an eccentric, or so they say. She is even more reclusive than you. She
spends most of her time at Dragmore, rarely venturing out into society. And who
can blame her? I saw myself how cruelly she was cut after that scandal. Have
you ruined her, Hadrian?"

He was in shock. He was
appalled at the terrible mistake he had almost made. He had come dangerously
close to ruining a young lady. Yet she
had
responded to him as if she
were a woman of experience, but now he could recall only too clearly those
moments when her blushes and her confusion had made her seem uncertain and
innocent. But how could he have known? She had attended the masque unescorted
and daringly costumed, and hadn't she flirted with him? Or had he misread her
every nuance? Had she purposefully led him on— or had he been the
indiscriminate predator? "I have not ruined her," he said stiffly,
and then he stalked from the room.

Nicole wished that her
best friend Martha Huntingdon, the Viscountess Serle, would return from London,
for she had no one to confide in about the Duke. It was so very nearly
unbelievable. That she, too tall and gawky, a dismal failure when she had come
out, then ruined by the scandal, should be courted by the charismatic, handsome
Duke of Clayborough! For wasn't that what he was doing? He had invited her to
his home, not once, but twice. And he had kissed her. He had told her that she
was beautiful. Wasn't he as powerfully affected by her as she was by him?
Didn't all of his actions indicate that he was courting her?

Nicole knew that she was
highly inexperienced when it came to men, but she was almost certain that he
would ask her to marry him, and soon. She dreamed of how he would propose, she
dreamed of being his Duchess. She saw herself with his child in her arms, and
saw him smile affectionately as he watched her and the baby.

And the small doubt she
had, the tiny seeds of confusion, the dim memory of his sardonic smile and cool
tone, she shoved into the recesses of her memory.

Her father and Chad
returned that evening from France, having concluded their business. Ed, her
younger brother, attended Cambridge, where he was studying the law. She greeted
the Earl and Chad with a beaming smile and hugs, startling them both with her
exuberance.

"What's happened to
you?" Chad asked, his handsome face wearing a suspicious frown. "What
are you up to now, little sister?"

Chad was almost thirty,
with dark hair like their father, although he had inherited his fair coloring
from his mother, the Earl's first wife. He was very handsome in a thoroughly
patrician way, while the Earl's appeal was darker, more dangerous. Nicole
scowled at him. "I am up to nothing, brother," she retorted.
"After all, I am not the one who goes out in the evenings and does not
return until well after dawn!"

"You are not a
man," Chad pointed out blithely.

"Enough," the
Earl said mildly, his gaze roving over his daughter with warmth. "You are
glowing, Nicole. Is there something you want to tell me?" He posed the
question casually.

Her father knew her too
well. She was his first child with the Countess Jane, and she had spent more
time on his knee than any other of her siblings. She was closer to him than
either Chad, Ed or Regina. There was a bond between them that was hard to
explain, although her mother had teased that it could be explained by the
savage blood in both of their veins and the disregard for convention that ensued
from it. Nicole had thought it a joke and had been amused by her mother's wit,
but the Earl had seemed somewhat exasperated with his wife for her bald
comment.

She had always been the
apple of his eye and she knew it. He knew her too well, and he was too clever,
besides. Nicole was certainly not ready to tell anyone in her family that she
had a suitor, much less that it was the Duke of Clayborough. She dared not
question herself too closely as to her motivations in keeping this affair a
secret, when she had never kept secrets from her family before. She thought
about what had happened today by the brook for the zillionth time and she
blushed. "No, Father," she said as demurely as possible. "I am
just happy you are home, I have missed you." Quickly, she hugged him
again, but the look he gave her was doubtful.

The next morning, Nicole
again had two maids help her to dress for her rendezvous with the Duke.
Fortunately, both Chad and the Earl were out on the estate, tending to its
affairs, so they would not remark on her unusual attire and wonder just where
she had gone in her finery. She invariably accompanied them, but today she had
managed to lie and say she had a headache. Both men had looked at her
skeptically, and Chad had even burst out laughing.

"You?" he had
said incredulously.
"You
have a headache?" Still laughing, he
had ridden away with her father, and Nicole had wanted to throttle him.

She appeared at Chapman
Hall shortly after noon, unable to wait another moment. Before she had even
dismounted, a footman taking her reins in front of the house, she saw the Duke
step out from inside the Hall, as if he had been waiting for her.

Nicole flashed him a
blinding smile, but there was no response. His expression was stern. For an
instant unease assailed her, but then she thanked the footman and slipped to
the ground. When she looked up, the Duke was dismissing the footman and telling
him that a groom would not be necessary, perplexing Nicole. If they were going
riding again why had he not ordered his mount brought around?

She grew somber, her joy
fading as she realized how hard and closed his face actually was. There was no
warmth in his eyes as they finally settled on her countenance. "Has
something happened?" she asked, her heart beating uncertainly.

"I am afraid
so," he said firmly. "It appears that I am to be forever apologizing
to you. I have made a terrible mistake, but not as terrible as it could have
been."

"What—what
mistake?" Her heart started to sink. He could not mean he had mistaken his
feelings for her, she knew that he could not mean that!

His jaw clenched.
"I did not realize you were unwed."

At first Nicole did not
understand. He had not realized she was unmarried? So what? Then, horribly, the
first inkling of comprehension began.
"What are you saying?"

"I assumed you to
be married, of course."

"You thought me
married?" she echoed.

He said nothing.

He had thought her
married.
If
he had thought her married, his intention had not been to court her. She stared
at him, stricken. "But—you kissed me!"

He shifted impatiently.
"Certainly you cannot be so naive as to think a man would refrain from
kissing a woman just because she is married."

Her understanding
swelled, horribly. He had thought her married—he had not been intending to ask
her to marry him. He had thought her to be married, and not just to be married,
but to be a certain kind of married woman, one of no morals. He had not been
courting her; far from it. To use his own words, he had merely wanted to tumble
her! She gasped, hurt, anger and dismay overwhelming her at once. He had been
amusing himself at her expense!

Her dreams crumbled into
the dust at her feet.

"I am sorry. I know
I must appear a very low sort, but frankly, I am so used to married ladies
offering themselves to me that..."

"I did not offer
myself to you!" Nicole cried, crushed, devastated. Tears filled her eyes.

"I mistook your
manner, then. Obviously, Lady Shelton, you may not come here again." His
gaze held hers, dark and fathomless.

Nicole was in shock and
hurt beyond words. "Obviously," she managed with a ghost of her old
spirit, "I would be ten times the fool should I return here. You will
certainly never see me again!"