Page 101 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
Her lips curled into a wicked smile as she stepped closer, her voice low and taunting. “Because, Your Grace, if you don’t, the entire Ton, the House of Lords, and every bloody society dame in London will know of your scandal. Your intended, the darling Lady Charlene Fielding, shared a room with you at a hotel. It will be your ruin to take your brother’s mistress while I have been paraded in society as the woman you intended to court.”
“I never—” Adam shouted.
But the Ton would gobble up the gossip without question.
“Wait!” Charlene stiffened beside him, her face pale as her breath quickened. “You’re the one who started the rumors?” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Miss Martin didn’t respond directly, but her predatory smile deepened.
The dowager, still seated, looked helplessly from Adam to Miss Martin. “What is she saying?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Charlene took a step back, her expression twisting with a mixture of hurt and realization. Her words came slowly, dread weighing on each one. “Why didn’t I see it before? My friends. My brother. Everyone warned me.” She stopped, her eyes fixed on Miss Martin as though looking at something monstrous. “It’s you.”
Miss Martin inclined her head, unabashed. “I am the empress,” she said, sneering. “TheM-Press, if you will. And you’ve made me rich with your gullible little dreams. But don’t fret—I’ve plenty more to gain.”
Adam felt his fury bursting to the surface, but as Charlene’s hand brushed his arm, something inside him redirected that fire. It wasn’t just anger now. It was for a purpose. Protecting her, defending their future, wasn’t just a desire. It was his duty. He squared his shoulders and looked Miss Martin squarely in the eyes.
“You may think yourself untouchable,” he said, his voice low but charged with resolve. “But make no mistake. The lies you’ve spun, the schemes you’ve crafted, end here. You will not harm Charlene or this family any further.”
And with that, the balance of power in the room began to shift.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Charlene stood alonein her greenhouse, the gravel path beneath her slippers warm from the lingering heat of the afternoon sun. It was the hour before dusk, when the world softened into lavender shadow and time seemed to slow, just enough for hearts to do the same. But her gaze wasn’t on the flowers. She was waiting. Not for Adam, though she always was, in one way or another. Today, she was waiting for his mother.
Lady Rotheworth had sent word through a footman. Not a summons, precisely, but not a suggestion, either. A quiet request that Charlene meet her.
Alone.
Charlene didn’t know what to expect. She had not spoken privately with the dowager duchess since the night of the gathering—since the scandal with David and Miss Martin had finally, painfully, come to light.
She heard the soft hush of silk before she turned.
Lady Rotheworth approached, regal as ever, though the creases beside her eyes seemed deeper now. Her mourning weeds were gone—replaced by slate-gray silk trimmed in black velvet—but the weight of grief still hung about her like a veil. And something else, too. Resolve.
“Charlene,” she said, her tone warmer than expected. “Thank you for waiting.”
Charlene curtsied, dipping low, though her heart pounded unevenly. “Of course, Your Grace.”
The duchess’s gaze rested on her face a moment too long. “Walk with me.”
They moved in silence along the path between the raised beds, passing the marble bench where Adam had once… but this was not a thought to be had before her future mother-in-law.
“I owe you an apology,” Lady Rotheworth said, not stopping. “Not only as a mother but as a woman.”
Charlene blinked. “Your Grace?”
“I was blind to David,” she continued, her voice steadier than Charlene expected. “To what he had become. And worse—I let him continue under my roof.”
The words cut the silence with gentle brutality.
Charlene’s throat tightened. She had not spoken of David since Adam had told her, quietly and without gloating, that his brother had left England. Disgraced and exiled to manage some faraway estate, David would no longer touch the lives of those he had wounded.
Miss Martin had not been so fortunate. Her whereabouts were unknown, though Adam suspected she had returned to her family in Spain. There had been no official scandal, but it had been enough. Enough that Charlene could breathe again.
Still, she had never heard a word from Lady Rotheworth on the matter. Until now.
“My son,” the duchess said, and Charlene couldn’t help but glance up. “Adam has always tried to protect everyone. Even David. Especially David. It blinded him, too.”
