by Ella Quinn
“Anything to brighten me up a bit.” Wearing brighter colors was one of the good things about marrying. At least her mother had not insisted she wear white. That would only serve to make her appear ill. But that might be because Mama did not look good in the color either.
Eugénie, Adeline’s sister-in-law, knocked on the door and entered wearing a deep purple gown and diamonds. With her rich, chestnut hair and brown eyes, her sister-in-law was one of the most beautiful ladies she had ever seen, and Adeline wished she too was beautiful. “Are you about ready to depart? Will is running a finger between his neck and his cravat. One would think I was taking him to his execution.”
Adeline burst out laughing. “He probably thinks you are. I remember Mama complaining that she had had to drag him there one evening, and he never went again.”
“Tant pis.” Eugénie shrugged. “He has nothing about which to be concerned. We are not to dance while chaperoning you.” Stepping over to the toilet table, she looked at Adeline. “Tu es très jolie.”
“But not beautiful.” And she never would be.
“Ah, ma petite.” Her sister-in-law smiled. “You are beautiful to your family and to the man who will love you.” Adeline so wanted that to be true. “Beauty from within is more important than beauty on the outside. Never forget that.” Eugénie stepped back as Fendall finished. “Alors, we must go before your brother loses his courage.” As they made their way down the stairs to the hall where Will was waiting, she said, “I have not been to this place either. It will be the first time for both of us.”
Adeline was convinced that even if her sister-in-law had made her come out in London, she would have walked into Almack’s and immediately taken control of everyone, including the Patronesses. She, on the other hand, was quite nauseous.
The ride to the Assembly Room was mercifully short, and they arrived at the same time as Georgie and her mother, Lady Featherton. “Come.” Georgie linked her arm with Adeline’s. “I have been assured that the worst part of this is waiting to be approved to dance the waltz”—Adeline’s stomach lurched—“and that the Patronesses will ensure that all the ladies just out will be approved.”
“That is reassuring.” As much as she tried to make her voice strong, it was thinner than she liked.
“If it makes you feel better, my mother confirmed that Dorie was right. The bread is stale, the lemonade and tea are weak, and the rooms are not opulent.” Georgie slid Adeline a glance.
She took a breath and let it out. “Fine. I’ll do my best not to be ill.”
As it was, they quickly spotted their other friends and joined the circle being formed.
“Are you excited?” Adeline asked Augusta.
“I am . . . curious.” She was gazing out at the number of people gathering. There had to be at least two hundred already, and guests were still arriving.
“You look like you are making a study of the mating behavior of an unknown civilization.”
Her friend grinned. “I suppose in a way I am. I find many of the ton’s mannerisms curious.”
“Lords Turley and Littleton are coming toward us,” Georgie whispered and glanced at Dorie, who was talking to a worthy-looking gentleman.
Adeline slid a look across the Assembly Room. Drat. Georgie was right. To make it worse, he was even better-looking in evening clothes. No rakes. “I have no objection to Lord Turley, but I do not wish to have anything to do with Lord Littleton.”
“You cannot refuse to dance with him.” Georgie’s tone had lowered even more.
“If he even asks me.” Perhaps he would not. “He might ask you or Augusta instead.”
“I do not think so.” She pasted a polite smile on her face and curtseyed. “My lord. Good evening.”
Lord Turley bowed. “Miss Featherton, might I ask you for this dance?”
“It would be my pleasure.” He held out his arm and she took it, leaving Adeline to face Lord Littleton all by herself.
“My lady”—his voice was low and seductive, just like a rake’s, and his bow was elegant, but it was his deep, meadow-green eyes that held her plain gray ones as they had that afternoon. They still made her feel as if she was the only lady he saw. “Would you do me the honor of being my partner?”
She curtseyed and kept her tone cool. “I would be pleased”—not delighted—“to dance with you, my lord.”
Those same eyes that had affected her a moment before now had a cynical cast as he held out his arm. “Thank you, my lady.”
At least he seemed to understand that she was not the type of female who would fall into his arms. Not to mention he had hurt her friend’s feelings last year and was not on her list of gentlemen to wed.
When they reached the dance floor, she was thankful the set was a country dance that required them to change partners. As he had asked her for this dance, he would not be able to ask her to stand up with him again this evening. A situation that suited her very well. What she did not understand was why her hand began to tingle when it touched his muscular arm. Not only that, but the tingling had spread through her fingers. Much like the electrical current she felt at times when she touched one of the barn cats during the winter. Adeline was positive he had caused it in some way; she just did not know how he could have done it.
As they skipped around the floor, she could not help but be impressed with his lordship’s grace. Although she had noticed that many large men—including her brother—were equally agile. No doubt the ability to dance well was part of a rake’s required accomplishments. Adeline wondered if there was a list or a guide they all followed. Something entitled How to Be a Successful Rake. Perhaps she and her friends could write a pamphlet on ways to recognize and avoid rakes. It would help a lot of ladies avoid falling victim to them.
They came together again and he took her hands. “Have you seen much of London?”
“Only if you consider the shopping areas ‘much.’” Adeline had a list of places she wanted to visit before leaving the metropolis.
Lord Littleton grinned, and the dimple made an appearance. It was extremely unfair for men with strong jaws to have a dimple. It made them look much too safe. Something she knew his lordship was not. “Perhaps you will allow me to get up a party and escort you to one of the museums.”
Before she could deny that she wished to go anywhere with him, the movement of the reel separated them again. When they came together again he did not mention his plan but turned the subject to the unseasonable cold. “I am concerned for the crops if this weather continues.”
That was safe ground. “I cannot fault you for that. I would not wish to see another summer like we had two years ago.”
“Indeed.” His eyes twinkled at her like polished emeralds. “It would be calamitous.”
“I agree.” Why was he giving her such a look of approval?
“Tell me, my lady, do you enjoy the theater?” The music ended and he bowed while she curtseyed.
“I have only seen some traveling troupes my father hires to visit our market town. But I have enjoyed their performances.”
“I am partial to comedies. Do you like them as well?”
“Oh, yes.” They were her favorites. She did not understand how one could enjoy a tragedy nearly as much. “The troupe last summer performed A Midsummer’s Night Dream. The presentation was wonderful.”
He held out his arm and she lightly placed her fingers on it, not wanting to experience the tingling sensation she’d had when he led her out to dance. Yet even now, sparks were popping.
This could not be good.
It was probably no more than an electrical charge. There was nothing else it could be. They were almost to Will and Eugénie; then she would take her hand from his arm and it would all be over.
* * *
Frits had stopped to suck in a breath when he spotted Lady Adeline across the room at Almack’s. She had been pretty when he’d first met her, but now she was beautiful. He had been right about her bosoms. They were truly splendid. And
the candles picked out her hair’s golden hue, making it shimmer.
Turley slapped Frits’s back, reminding him to walk forward. Yet as he greeted her and asked her to dance, he wondered briefly if he would have been better served by not asking one of Lady Dorie’s friends to stand up with him. Neither Lady Adeline’s gaze nor her manner had been more than merely polite. In fact, her eyes reminded him of scudding gray clouds before a storm. He was certain that if she could have refused to dance with him, she would have. It might have been unfair of him to ask the lady, but ever since they’d met, he’d wanted to stand up with her. He wanted to touch her even if it was only escorting her to and from the dance floor.
Still, getting to know her was going to be even harder than he’d originally believed. And he had not thought it would be easy in the first place. When he’d mentioned meeting her to his mother, she had pointed out that Lady Adeline might hold his behavior with Lady Dorie against him. He could understand loyalty. It was even possible he might feel the same about a lady who had hurt one of his friends. But how long could Lady Adeline’s coolness last? Perhaps the better question was, how long was Frits willing to wait?
During the set, she was all that was well-mannered, but when she looked at him, her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and, for the most part, her conversation did not rise above the mundane. He expected that from many young ladies, but not from her. Her intelligence had shone in her eyes before she had shuttered them to him, and he wanted to see it again. Lady Adeline was definitely a challenge, and he did like a good challenge.
Damnation. Was he doing it again? Deciding on a lady before he actually got to know her and what she wanted from life?
Yet he was drawn to her, more than he’d been to Lady Dorie. There was something about Lady Adeline that seemed quieter.
No, that wasn’t it. He couldn’t think of a word to describe her, but she was different. Yet, until he worked out what she wanted, the only thing he could do was take care that neither of them formed an attachment before he knew if they would suit.
Last year, he’d been dazzled by Lady Dorie’s beauty and intelligence and had not thought beyond that. This year, he had to look deeper and move more slowly. The problem was, he did not like being dismissed out of hand. He was too used to not having to work for a lady’s attention. Even if his initial thoughts about Lady Adeline were in error, he was determined that she would see him as something other than an object to be ignored.
Frits shook off his wounded pride and went back to reviewing their conversation. When he’d asked about the theater, he’d been happy with her response. He wished he could have spoken to her more, but the damned dance kept taking her away from him. The next time he asked her to dance it would be for a waltz. Perhaps he should have followed his mother’s advice and petitioned Lady Jersey to allow him to waltz with Lady Adeline, but he’d done that with Lady Dorie last Season.
Bloody hellhounds.
Was he going to have to try not to repeat anything he’d done last year? That would be impossible. Yet there were only so many options for a gentleman courting a lady . . . Except that now he had his mother in Town. Ergo, getting up a party for the theater would not be difficult, nor would a party to do anything else. He could even ask her to give a ball and a dinner party. As he escorted Lady Adeline back to her brother and sister-in-law, Frits’s good mood expanded as he saw his opportunities of contact with her increase. He’d have to speak with his mother about his plans soon.
He bowed to her again. “Thank you for the dance.”
“It was my pleasure.” Her tone was polite, but again her eyes gave her discontentment away. She really had not wanted to stand up with him. But her hand felt so right on his arm. As if it belonged there.
As soon as he returned her to her family, Frits found Turley. They were strolling back to where Frits’s mother was sitting when Mrs. Drummond-Burrell passed by on the arm of a gentleman he’d never seen before. And they were headed toward Lady Adeline.
“Who is that?” Frits scowled at the back of the man.
“Name’s Anglesey.” Turley had stopped strolling. “I met him last autumn when I visited m’sister in Paris.”
“Normanby’s eldest?” Frits tried to remember if he knew anything about the man and came up with nothing. He didn’t even think he’d seen him in Town before.
Turley nodded. “He’s a few years younger than we are. I understand he was schooled at home and then had a Grand Tour.”
There was nothing unusual in that for heirs. Frits had been happy he’d been sent to school. He had many more friends and acquaintances than he’d otherwise have. Yet, he did not like the look of that fellow. Although it could very well be because he was now bowing to Lady Adeline and she was smiling at him as if he was a gift from Heaven.
Turley chuckled softly. “It appears you have some competition.”
They’d see about that. Frits glanced at the other man again. “Do you know anything else about him?”
“No.” Turley slowly shook his head. “He was only at one event I attended at the embassy. M’sister might know more.” Brows drawn slightly together, his friend glanced at him. “You’re doing it again. You jumped into cold water with Lady Dorie prior to considering the ramifications, and you’re going to make the same mistake with Lady Adeline. This time you might not be lucky enough to avoid an unwanted marriage.”
Frits reached up to rub the back of his neck, but remembered where he was. “I thought about that. I promise to move more slowly, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find out more about my competition.” Or the lady.
Turley blew out a breath. “I’ll write to Elizabeth to tell her to expect a letter from you.”
“Thank you.” He really was the best of friends.
“Well”—Turley grinned—“she does owe you a favor for helping bring Harrington around.”
“It wasn’t that hard to do.” Frits had had a good time getting under Harrington’s skin. Frits was happy the couple were still madly in love. He only hoped he could find the same happiness.
He kept his frown to himself as Anglesey escorted Lady Adeline to the floor as the prelude for a waltz was beginning. At first she merely had a polite smile on her lips, and Anglesey was doing all the talking. The only thing Lady Adeline contributed to the conversation was a nod here and there.
Well, that answered Frits’s question. Turley had said the fribble had just returned from the Continent. Like many young men who had a Grand Tour, he was probably attempting to impress her with all he’d seen and done. Someone should give the man a hint, but it wouldn’t be Frits. As far as he was concerned, his wet-behind-the-ears lordship could bore her to tears while he encouraged her to talk about herself. The more he knew about her, the easier it would be to get her to stop trying to ignore him. But midway through the set, something changed, and soon she was smiling and chatting with the man as if she’d known him all her life.
Hell and damnation!
This was going to be even harder than he’d thought.
Chapter Four
After spending an intimate hour or so at Sarah’s house, Crispin and she had arrived separately at Almack’s and were now standing at the side of the Assembly Room, where they could see the parties arriving.
“Shall I visit you later this evening?” He was pushing his luck, but an hour hadn’t been enough.
She raised one well-arched brow. “I do not remember you being so insatiable in Paris.”
In Paris he’d had as many lovers as he wished. “I’ve missed you.”
Her glance slid to the entrance. “Your young lady has arrived.”
Crispin wasn’t stupid enough to look in the same direction she had. “You have not given me your answer.”
“Are you not interested in knowing who she is?” Her tone managed to be arch and sensuous at the same time. He adored sparring with her.
He lowered his mouth to her ear. “I am more interested in seeing to what heights I can bring you tonight.”
“Perhaps, but first you must dance to your father’s tune or you will find yourself at point nonplus.”
“Very well.” He heaved a sigh for her benefit. “Tell me about my future wife.”
“Her name is Lady Adeline Wivenly, the daughter of the Earl of Watford. She is eighteen—not quite as young as I had thought—and making her come out this year.” He raised a brow, and Sarah’s lips curled up. “Her dowry is sufficient for you to ignore your father’s threats.”
He was not going to ask the amount. If he waited, she would tell him. “She’s not beautiful.”
Sarah languidly waved her fan. “I wager that her twenty thousand will make her better looking and easier to bed.”
He’d never had a problem bedding any woman. His only concern was avoiding the French pox. “Easier to do my duty, you mean. She will never interest me as much as you do.”
A pleased smile tilted Sarah’s lips.
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell came over to them. “Lady Riverton, how are you enjoying your return to England?”
“It is delightful.” Sarah greeted the lady warmly. “Being here brings back memories.”
“Good ones, I trust.” Mrs. Drummond-Burrell smiled. Then he remembered that the two women had known each other for several years.
“Indeed they are.” With one hand, Sarah indicated Crispin. “Lord Anglesey was just asking about Lady Adeline Wivenly. He appears quite interested in the lady.”
A glint appeared in Mrs. Drummond-Burrell’s eye. “Come with me, my lord, and I shall recommend you as a suitable partner for the waltz. I am positive that will help your suit.”
“You do me a great honor, ma’am.” He bowed, then held out his arm. “I need all the help I can get.” In fact, he did not expect it to take long to fix the lady’s attentions. She was, after all, young, innocent, and not a beauty. She would be glad for his consideration.
When Mrs. Drummond-Burrell made the introductions and recommended Lady Adeline waltz with him, the chit smiled brightly. This would be even easier than Crispin had thought.
