Page 4 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
Adam reeled. He leaned back, the weight of her words crashing over him like cold seawater. His hands dropped from hers, limp at his sides.
Gone. His father was gone.
He stared at the plush rug beneath his knees, the colors blurring together as his world crumbled. His father, the Duke of Rotheworth. The man who had taught him everything. The manwho had shaped the estates, the family legacy, the expectations Adam had struggled his whole life to live up to.
And now, it was his.
He was the duke.
The weight of it bore down on him, suffocating and unyielding. Tonight, he had lost everything he thought he could hold on to. His hope for Charlene. His brother’s respect. And now, his father.
Adam closed his eyes, swallowing back the surge of grief that threatened to choke him. There was no time to mourn. Not yet. There was too much to do, too much to repair.
But as Charlene’s face flickered in his mind, pale and frightened, one thought emerged sharp and clear above the chaos.
He would not lose her, too.
Chapter One
London at the Fieldings’ townhouse, 44 Portman Square…
It is a truth rarely spoken aloud, yet universally acknowledged, that a lady’s life is immeasurably complicated by who she allows to hold her hand. Not in public, of course—that would be ruin—but in private, where the touch lingers a moment too long, or where a perfectly respectable glove is slipped off in reckless abandon. Such trivialities, some may say, but here lies the rub: a single gesture may chart the course of one’s entire fortune, be it to bliss… or chaos. And so, dear reader, if your heart must be stolen, in the very least ensure it is by someone you would not mind joining you in thescandal.
~ The Handbook on Seduction and Matters of theHeart
Awhole yearhas passed, Charlene thought. Three hundred sixty-five days. Twelve months. She pushed the handbook away. Such a long time. Charlene perched on the edge of her bed, the muslin of her morning gown clinging uncomfortably to her damp skin. The scent of flowers still clung faintly to her from the bath she had taken earlier, though it did little to wash away the grime she felt on her very soul. It was one of those moments—those moments when her hands trembled as she laced herfingers together in her lap, her gaze cast downward, staring at nothing in particular. She hadn’t even lit the lamps, and the morning light filtering through the drawn curtains was subdued, painting the room in shades of shadow. How fitting, she thought, that even the sun seemed reluctant to touch her now.
A year since she’d been almost ruined. Almost because she’d not been caught. Ruined because she stillfeltruined.
And it had been with a man she had considered her friend at the time.
That was the problem.
However, if a tree fell noisily and nobody heard, the tree fell nonetheless.
Perhaps her “ruination” wasn’t evident in the eyes of society, but what did that matter when she thought of herself as damaged? Every part of her body felt ruined, especially her heart. Even a year later, she couldn’t wash away the shame—not only of losing David as a suitor but also of losing Adam as her friend. The latter stung the most.
In his year of grief, I haven’t caught as much as a glimpse of him.
Her breath hitched as memories surged forward unbidden: David’s laughter, the insolence in his eyes, the way he’d carelessly… she squeezed her eyes shut, her nails digging into her palms. No. She couldn’t think of it. Not anymore. She needed to move on. But the sharp ache in her chest reminded her that the truth would not be so easily banished. And worst of all, that nightmare had been witnessed—not by some faceless stranger, but by him. Adam. The gravity of her shame pulled at her so forcefully that she felt as though she might sink through the floor and disappear entirely. He’d helped her, but she hadn’t even been able to face him in a whole year.
He’s a Cross and they’re all the same, were they not?
Same faces.
Same blood.
Yes, she shouldn’t forget that.
But still, on the one hand, she was relieved it had been him who walked in when David had… well… On the other hand, it was even worse because of all the people in her life, she cherished how her friends saw her.
He’s not my friend anymore.
Urgh! She didn’t want to even think about it!
The soft rap of knuckles against her door startled her, and she froze. “Char?” A nickname only her friends and family used. This time, it came from her brother’s voice, quiet but insistent.
“I’m not awake,” she called back. Her voice cracked on the last word, and she pressed her hands to her face to smother the sound. Maybe, if she stayed silent, he’d go away.
