Page 113 of How Not to Marry a Duke

She pointed the wrench at him and he almost believed she would toss it at his head. “Go after her, Your Grace.”

“I took your advice. I proposed. She declined.”

“You love her.”

“I do not—”

The countess held up a hand. “Your mother did you a disservice. I had hoped my love was enough to supplement.”

“You are dear to me, godmother. But Adeline’s refusal has nothing to do with love.”

“Bah! It has everything to do with it. Go after her. Tell her you love her. Make it right.”

Warwick leaned back against the desk. Was this desolate emotion love? He felt as if someone had reached inside his chest and hollowed it out with a dull spoon. Was she right? Did he love her?

For a man who believed in science, it was a fearsome emotion. Science had never failed him. Emotions had.

He’d never viewed marriage as anything more than a businesslike affair of the sort he’d witnessed in his own parents’ relationship. Then Adeline had turned his world upside down. She’d changed him in ways he’d never believed possible, and the thought of her with a man like Stan Slade was as painful as the thought of his own life without her by his side.

He loved her.

Dear God, he did love her and needed her more than he needed air to breathe and water to drink. Nothing else mattered, not his inventions, his work…or science.

His godmother walked behind his desk and reached up to clutch both of his shoulders. “Hurry, Warwick. Before Adeline is lost to you forever.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Why are you here?”

Warwick faced Lord Foster, Edwin, in the drawing room. Warwick had wasted no time getting to the doorstep of the earl’s Piccadilly townhome and demanding to meet with him.

If Adeline was in the home, he hadn’t seen her.

It served Warwick’s purposes. He was here to discuss unsavory details with Edwin, and he didn’t want anyone else as a witness.

“Why would you sell your sister to Slade?” There was an edge to Warwick’s voice, one that simmered of barely restrained control.

Edwin’s face screwed into one of anger and hatred. “I told you once before that our family affairs are not your concern.”

“Since I intend to marry Adeline myself, I consider it my business.”

“You arrogant bastard! You have always thought yourself better than everyone else.”

“Not everyone. Just you.”

Edwin raised his fist. Warwick blocked it before it made contact. He grasped Edwin’s collar and yanked him close. “You were a bully as a boy, and you haven’t changed as a man. Don’t be an idiot. You haven’t been able to beat me since we were thirteen.”

If it wasn’t under such grave circumstances, Warwick would find great satisfaction in besting the blackguard.

“I am the head of this house and as such, Adeline is my ward,” Edwin ground out.

Warwick fisted Edwin’s collar. “How much do you owe Slade? I’ll pay him off. Not for you, but for her freedom.”

Edwin sagged. “It’s too late.”

“Why? Just because the moneylender wants to marry into the aristocracy? If he’s as greedy as they say, then money should suffice. He can find another wife.”

“You don’t understand. He wants Adeline.”