Diane Gaston - Rumours in the Regency Ballroom - Scandalising the Ton / Gallant Officer, Forbidden Lady

Adrian watched the maid locked in the embrace of her lover. The two stumbled into the garden, still in each other’s arms.

They had left the gate slightly open. Adrian stole over and peeked in. The lovers were headed for a far corner, away from the house.

Adrian had planned to knock at the front door, to be announced to Lydia properly even if the hour was unforgivably late, but one of the newspapers had left a young fellow watching the house, so Adrian had walked on by. He turned the corner just when the maid and her lover had wrapped their arms around each other.

It was all too easy. Adrian slipped through the gap in the gate and crept through the shadows to the back door. When he reached the door, it was unlatched.

He walked in, still intending to announce himself.

Sounds came from the kitchen, but when he peeked in, he could see no one. He continued to the stairs, climbing them as quietly as he could and opening the door a crack to see if anyone was in the hall.

Empty.

He ought to call out. Announce his presence.

Instead he climbed the marble stairs and saw a glow of light coming from the drawing room. Taking in a breath and holding it, he opened the door.

Lydia rose from a chair near the window, book in hand. An oil lamp on the table next to her gave more illumination than the waning daylight through the glass. The lamp lit her face with a soft glow, making her hair appear tinged with gold where the light touched it.

He had forgotten how lovely she was.

She gasped and dropped her book.

He stepped into the light. “Forgive me, Lydia, I know I intrude.”

“Adrian!” Her voice was breathless. She took a step forwards as if glad to see him, but she quickly shrank back. “Why didn’t Dixon announce you?”

“He does not know I am here.” He gave a rueful smile. “I fear no one knows I am here. I truly did intrude, Lydia. I entered without anyone seeing me.”

“Without anyone seeing you?” She picked up her book, closing it and placing it on the table.

“I entered through the back door.” He did not wish to get the maid into trouble. “One of your servants stepped out for a moment, and I came in unseen.” Saying it made him realise how outrageously he’d acted.

She looked rightfully indignant. “You sneaked into my house?”

“I know it sounds bad,” he said with chagrin. “But there was a fellow watching the front door. From a newspaper, I expect.” He paused, feeling as if he was not making sense. “Otherwise I would have knocked for admittance.”

She held up a hand, stopping his explanation. “Never mind. Tell me why you are here when I asked you not to call upon me again.”

“The newspaper this morning—” he began.

She swung away. “That—that—horrid paper.”

In the low light and with her loose dress, he could not perceive any telltale changes signalling her condition. If anything, her figure appeared even more voluptuous than he remembered, as if she’d had enough food to eat.

“Is it true?” he asked.

She turned her head to him. “Is what true?”

He could think of no delicate way to say it. “Are you increasing?”

She blinked rapidly. “That is a very private matter, not one to discuss with a gentleman I hardly know.”

He walked closer to her. “But it is how you know me that makes it my business. At least to ask.”

Her breathing accelerated.

“Lydia?”

“You need not concern yourself, Adrian. I am well able to handle whatever my situation might be.” She lifted her chin. “I am not as forlorn as when you first encountered me.”

And he had been the one to take away her pitiable state, even if she would never know it. “I am glad of it.”

She met his gaze steadily. “So there is no reason for you to come here.”

She looked elegant and regal, even though her dress was a simple one more suited to morning. Her hair was piled in a loose knot on top of her head, tendrils escaping to caress her forehead and cheeks. He remembered how soft her curls had felt, slipping loose and luxuriously through his fingers. Even now he itched to pull the pins from her hair so that it would fall about her shoulders and he could grab a fistful in his hand.

He forced himself to his task. “Lydia, cut line. Are you going to have a child or not?”

He walked close enough to touch her. If he could place his hand on her belly he might feel for himself if a child grew within her. That would, he supposed, be even more of an intrusion than entering her house.

She raised her eyes to his, and he felt a jolt of attraction, the same attraction he’d been unable to resist when she’d asked him to make love to her. He waited for her to speak, his heart beating so hard, he thought she must be able to hear it.

She said nothing.

He tried again. “If the child is mine, Lydia, I will do my duty.”

“Your duty?” Her voice rose. “What do you mean by your duty?”

His emotions were in a muddle about this, but he was enough of his father’s son to know what was expected of a gentleman. “Marriage, if you should wish it.”

“Marriage!” She spat out the word and quickly turned her face from him, silent for so long he had an impulse to prowl the room like a caged cat. Finally she cast her gaze upon him again. “Do you expect me to believe you would marry me?”

Why not? he wondered. “I am an honourable man, Lydia.”

She gave a scoffing laugh. “You are a libertine, Adrian. Libertines do not marry.”

Her words stung. “A libertine? And how is it you are so certain I am a libertine?”

“It is what people say of you. They call you a rake, at least, which is the same thing, is it not?”

He was not about to debate the differences between a rake and a libertine. His eyes narrowed. “You of all people should know not to give credit to gossip.”

She glanced away, two spots of colour rising to her cheeks. “It is, nonetheless, all I know of you. I have no experience to tell me otherwise.”

He waved his hand as if erasing that piece of conversation. “It matters not what you believe of me. If the child is mine, I will take responsibility, and that means marrying you, if that is what you desire.”

Lydia glanced away, her muscles taut with anxiety. The ton’s most devil-may-care bachelor said he would marry her out of duty. She almost wished to laugh. The last thing in the world she desired was another marriage. She’d married once with stars in her eyes and look what a horror that husband had turned out to be.

But Adrian was not Wexin.

She darted a glance to him, so handsome, standing so tall and still. Masculine energy emanated from him, and, God help her, attracted her.

She’d be a fool to give in to the desire that pulsated inside her, a fool to entrust her life—and her child’s—to any man.

She took in a fortifying breath. “There is no need for you to do anything, Adrian. There is no responsibility that I would hold you to.”

He stepped away and bowed his head, seemingly lost in thought.

It would be so easy to simply lie and tell him the child was Wexin’s, but she could not make herself say the words.

Think of what the newspapers would write about her if she married him and acknowledged the child as his. The world would know that she’d bedded a man before her husband was cold in his grave.

Her indiscretion had been the cause of this pregnancy. That made it her problem to handle, not Adrian’s. If her child was born within the ten months stipulated by law, the child, son or daughter, would be considered Wexin’s, but she would be in charge of her finances and her life.

She made herself look directly at Adrian again, even though looking at him made her heart leap and flutter and her body yearn for him. She could not forget how his hands had felt upon her, the softness of his lips, the firmness of his muscles. Her carnal urges flared into life and it was all she could do to keep from propositioning him again.