Her stomach tightened into a knot, and she feared she would cast up her accounts all over the lovely wedding breakfast. What a horrid guest she was, inviting herself to remain at Abingdon Hall after the Christmastide house party had ended. Then bringing Dominic Winter down upon them in the midst of the celebration for the nuptials of the Duke and Duchess of Coventry…
“Who the devil is he?” asked Mr. Merrick Hart, brother-in-law to the Winter siblings, looking bewildered as he surveyed the rest of the assemblage.
“He is Dominic Winter,” Adele managed to say, “and I fear he has come here for me.”
All eyes turned to her.Drat.She had said too much.
“DominicWinter?” asked the Duchess of Coventry—formerly Miss Christabella Winter.
Her Grace was the wildest of all the Winter sisters, with the flaming curls and outspoken nature to prove it. She had become an unlikely friend for Adele during the course of the house party she had attended with her older sister Hannah and twin sister Evangeline. Adele had managed to extract Her Grace’s aid in persuading Hannah to leave her behind for an extended visit without her sister’s watchful eye.
Adele perfectly understood the nature of her friend’s query. She wished she had an answer.
“Mr. Winter is an…acquaintance of my brother’s,” she elaborated. “A gaming hell owner. That is to say, I believe he is.”
Heavens, it was unseemly for her to admit her knowledge of such an inappropriate connection. What had she been thinking? It was the shock of his appearance, after two long months, of the way he had looked at her…
As if he could see inside her.
The equal fear of her secret. A secret she must keep at all costs. A secret she would do anything,anythingto protect. Including lying to her sisters and her newfound friend, the Duchess of Coventry.
For what seemed an eternity, no one spoke. Adele went hot, then cold, a fine sheen of perspiration breaking out on her brow. Her stomach lurched. She could not be certain if the nausea churning was the same as that which had been ordinarily plaguing her or if it was a result of her current predicament.
Likely, a combination of both.
“Is he…could he be from a distant branch of our Winter family?” ventured Mrs. Merrick Hart.
“A disgraced portion,” added the Duchess of Coventry. “He said ‘bastard Winters,’ did he not?”
“Christabella,” chastised her elder sister, Lady Prudence Rawdon. “You ought to know better than to repeat such nonsense. Our reputations as Winters are bedeviled enough. No need to borrow trouble.”
It was true. The Wicked Winters, as they were mockingly known within society, possessed untold wealth thanks to their merchant father’s empire. What they had lacked was the requisite ties to high society until Mr. Devereaux Winter had married Lady Emilia King. Theirentréeto thetonwas new.
“How can I borrow trouble when it has already shown up, brandishing a sword hidden in a cane?” the duchess dared to ask.
Adele rolled her lips inward, fighting against a renewed wave of bile.
She had saved Max and ruined herself. And now, she had also brought ruin and mayhem down upon her new friend’s wedding day.
She hated herself.
“It looked wickedly sharp,” Miss Grace Winter said. “Do you think he has ever used it upon any of his enemies? I found myself looking for traces of blood…”
“Grace!” The chiding exclamation came from Miss Eugie Winter, who was engaged to wed the Earl of Hertford. “That is hardly proper discussion for Christabella’s wedding breakfast. Let us return to our celebrations. I am certain our brother will conclude his business with this Mr. Winter as soon as possible and return.”
More agony buffeted Adele.
The ominous arrival of Mr. Dominic Winter was all her fault.
Adele stood, sending her chair toppling to the floor. Once more, the eyes of the gathering were upon her. She wished the floor beneath her would open and swallow her, giving her the escape she so desperately needed.
But when you made a deal with the devil, he always demanded his due. Rather than allow the Duke and Duchess of Coventry’s special day to suffer any further interruption, she would face her devil.
“Felicitations, Your Graces,” she said. “I wish you both the best in your future together as husband and wife. If you will all excuse me, I find myself feeling quite ill, and I have no wish to burden the joyous gathering any more than I already have.”
She dipped into a curtsy and fled from the dining hall as quickly as her pride would allow. Her stomach was indeed roiling as she made her way down the hall in search of Mr. Dominic Winter and Mr. Devereaux Winter. The same surname—the significance of it haunted her now. She had known, of course, the Winter who had changed her life two months before shared the same surname as the Winter who was playing her host at Abingdon Hall. However, sharing a name did not necessarily suggest a connection.
As she hastened down the hall, attempting to find out where her host Mr. Winter may have taken her Mr. Winter, she could not help but to think about the similarities between the two men. Both were tall, dark-haired, handsome, and large of frame. Muscled and monstrous.
