The Most Eligible Lord in London

by Ella Quinn

  Adeline’s nicely rounded jaw firmed and her silver eyes sparked with anger. “What a fiend she is. It is bad enough to attempt to compromise a gentleman one knows, but I cannot think of a word contemptible enough for a female who would do so to a man she has not even met.”

  He could think of a few appropriate words, but they were not for a lady’s ears. Especially Adeline’s. He liked hearing her defend him, but now she was waiting for him to answer. To be as outraged as she was. “Yes, well.”

  She took another sip of wine. A larger one this time. “Did you receive the note?”

  “I did.” Frits promptly took it out of the pocket in his waistcoat, unfolded it, and handed it to her. “It is singularly uninformative. It merely directs me to meet the writer near the bushes to the right of the terrace.”

  She perused the missive. “That is what she said she had written. She brought it with her.” Adeline glanced around the room. “Do you have the time?”

  Did that mean the lady knew he’d be here, or would any gentleman have done? There was no name on the message. He opened his pocket watch. “Five past the hour.”

  “The meeting is not for another twenty-five minutes.” She looked up from the paper, and he was surprised to see a challenging, almost militant look in her eyes. She was ferociously furious on his behalf. Just the thought of her wishing to protect him warmed his heart, but, again, that made him want to sweep her off her feet and to his coach. “We could both go and confront her.”

  It was a good thing he’d not yet taken a drink; otherwise, he’d be choking. Frits might not know Miss Hanson, but he knew her type. He’d been plagued by them for years. And it would not be a good idea for her to know Adeline had ruined her plan. “I would prefer that we join the others for supper. Then, when you see her, you can tell me which lady she is.”

  Her finely arched brows furrowed, causing a line between them. Frits kept his elbows firmly against his sides. He was very close to drawing her into his arms. After several moments, she let out a huff of air. “I suppose that would be better than creating a scene.”

  “Much.” Thank God she was being reasonable. Then again, she was usually sensible. He held out his arm, and she took it. “Not nearly as satisfying, but much better.” Not only that, but tonight at supper, he’d make sure he was able to sit next to her.

  When they reached the supper room, he was pleased to see that her family had held two chairs for them.

  “What took you so long?” her sister-in-law asked.

  Adeline glanced at him, and he nodded. “There was a lady who wished to compromise Lord Littleton, and I was helping him.”

  Her brother Wivenly patted her on her back. “Well done.” He glanced at Frits. “It never ceases to amaze me how many ladies think that is a sure way to the altar.” He slipped his arm about his wife, gazing at her besottedly. “Thank God I found Eugénie.”

  Frits had known the man for years. He found it interesting—almost comical—that after dodging marriage-minded ladies and their mamas since he’d come down from Oxford, Wivenly had left England to avoid marriage only to return with a wife. “I am eternally grateful that Lady Adeline sought to help me.”

  Her cheeks and the tops of her breasts were awash with a lovely deep pink. Look at her eyes. “I think I should eat something. All this intrigue has made me hungry.”

  “We have plates for you,” Lady Wivenly said, indicating the table.

  Frits held the chair for Adeline, and took the place next to her. It was the first supper where her friends had not surrounded her, relegating him to the end of the table with Exeter. In fact—he glanced around—all the young ladies were sitting with their families and the gentlemen who had stood up with them for the supper dance.

  He dipped his spoon into the white soup. “Did we miss anything?”

  “You might say that.” Wivenly grinned. “Exeter defended his sisters, and the ladies decided that anyone who speaks badly about the girls will not be invited to any of their entertainments.”

  Something about that didn’t quite make sense. “His sisters aren’t out yet.”

  “And will not be for years,” Adeline added. “This must have something to do with his mother’s behavior.”

  “It did,” Lady Wivenly said. “Lady Letitia was not at all happy about being introduced to Exeter; then she started saying that there must be something wrong with his younger sister, as neither of his older sisters had taken them in after their mother left. She could not see we were sitting here, but her voice carried, and he went straight over and told the lady and her mother that he would not stand for their slander.”

  “I never thought she was so cruel. I will certainly have nothing more to do with her.” Adeline lifted her glass of wine. “I wish we had been here to see it.”

  “It was très impressionnant,” her sister-in-law said.

  For Exeter’s sake, Frits hoped Lady Dorie thought the same. He desperately wanted her to decide to marry the man. “That was well done of him. It never does to allow false rumors to start.”

  Lord and Lady Watford had joined a political discussion with Lord and Lady Huntingdon and Exeter and Lady Dorie, leaving Frits, Adeline, and her brother and sister-in-law to talk about other subjects. Frits had been stunned and impressed to discover Lady Wivenly had actually been physically involved in saving slaves on St. Thomas in the Danish West Indies, and was still actively supporting the cause. What was even more interesting was the extent to which the venture captured Adeline’s attention.

  “Did I tell you that Eugénie has formed a charity that pays shipowners for helping free the slaves?” Adeline asked. “Some of them are rescued at sea when the ships carrying slaves are stopped.”

  He knew British naval ships were tasked with the job, but he had not known private ships were involved as well. “I suppose our navy cannot find all the slave traders.”

  “Especially when some of the countries who sign laws ending the slave trade continue it,” Adeline commented drily.

  Another thing of which he had not been aware. “Who in particular?”

  “Denmark and Norway.” Pushing away the soup, she helped herself to two lobster patties. He’d have to remember how much she liked them.

  “One of my friends is heir to a shipping company,” Wivenly said. “He assists us.”

  That gave Frits an idea. One that would kill two birds as it were, save people, and improve Adeline’s opinion of him. “Do you need more ships?”

  “We always need more ships,” Adeline responded. “And money. I give what I am allowed to from my pin money.”

  “I have a shipping company.” He grinned when Adeline’s jaw as well as her brother’s and sister-in-law’s jaws dropped. “My family long ago decided that the health of the barony would be better served by having a wide range of investments. I don’t personally manage it, but I can put the ships at your disposal when required.”

  “Merci.” Lady Wivenly smiled gratefully. “We shall accept your kind offer.”

  When they had finished eating, Frits decided to escort Adeline to the hall while their coaches were being brought around. He was perplexed to find the rest of their group joining them. Then he remembered that for some reason, all the ladies in her circle departed after supper. Come to think of it, that was probably the reason she rose so early.

  As they left the room, she squeezed his arm. “Do you see the two ladies in the corner next to the tree with the red flowers?”

  He cut his eyes quickly in that direction. “Yes.”

  “Miss Hanson is the one in the blue gown.” Adeline had tipped up her head, and her breath caressed his jaw, creating an almost overwhelming urge to dip his head and kiss her.

  “I shall make sure to stay out of her way.” And avoid an introduction. Although that had not deterred the female. Just then, Miss Hanson raised her eyes, and he quickly lowered his to Adeline, making sure that anyone—but particularly Miss Hanson—knew where his interests lay.

  Adeline began s
trolling again. “Do you often receive unsigned notes?”

  Where the devil had that question come from? “No.” And that was all he was going to say on the matter. He did not want Adeline to think any worse of him than she already did, especially as he was going to wait until her mother was nearby to ask her to accompany him tomorrow. He’d told himself he wouldn’t do that again, but he couldn’t take the chance she would refuse him.

  They reached her parents’ coach and he waited while her mother and sister-in-law were handed up. “Can I tempt you into another carriage ride tomorrow?”

  “What a lovely idea,” her mother interpolated before she could reply, and he almost groaned with frustration. He didn’t need that much help.

  Adeline’s lips pressed together. “Thank you for the kind invitation. I shall see you tomorrow.”

  He handed her into the carriage. “Until then.” When he’d torture himself watching her lick the final bit of ice cream from her spoon.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Crispin fought to keep his polite mask in place as Lady Adeline joined the set with Lord Littleton.

  Damn Littleton! How did he always end up with the supper dance?

  Well, he wouldn’t get it for tomorrow’s ball. Crispin would write to Lady Adeline this evening, when he returned home, requesting the set, and have the invitation delivered first thing in the morning. Unless his lordship had already secured the dance. If so, there was nothing he could do about it but ask for the supper dance at the next ball. Yes. That was exactly what he’d do. He would also ask for the opportunity to take her for a carriage ride.

  This was turning into much more work than Crispin had originally planned when he chose Lady Adeline. Leaning against a column, he surveyed the room. He could choose another one. There were enough ladies out, and some of them met his qualifications. But he’d already made up his mind to wed Lady Adeline, and there was no good reason to steer away from his course. From what he had heard, she was upset with Littleton because of something he’d done last Season. That should work in Crispin’s favor. He’d simply have to be more persistent in pursuing her. By her reactions to him this evening, it would not be long before he could propose.

  He caught a lady he’d been introduced to by the name of Miss Hanson giving him a speculative look. She was clearly on the hunt for a title. The lady was much more beautiful than Lady Adeline, but although her mother’s birth was respectable, her father was a Cit, and that wouldn’t do for him at all.

  The Earl of Lytton approached Miss Hanson, bowed, and led her to the dance floor. Was he in need of funds? That was the only reason Crispin could see for his lordship to be interested in her. He was too high in the instep to pay attention to her otherwise.

  “I am finding this ball vastly boring.” Lady Holloway opened her fan, covering lips that owed more to cosmetics than nature. Her bodice revealed a large expanse of snow-white skin and plump breasts. It was a pity it was not nearly as low as what the ladies in Paris wore, but this was England.

  Crispin had to agree. He’d met her ladyship the other evening at a card party and was pleased by his perspicacity in deciding to arrange to lease a small town house. His father’s house was not nearly private enough for all Crispin’s doings. Not only that, but few ladies wanted to engage in trysts at their own homes. Even the widows were cautious. “Can I interest you in another activity?”

  She blinked slowly, her dark, thick lashes fanning out against her cheeks. Her tongue peeked out and licked her bottom lip, causing his cock to harden. Ever since Sarah had stopped allowing his visits, he’d been as randy as a goat.

  She glanced at his breeches, and, unsurprisingly, his erection became more noticeable. At least he was wearing breeches and not pantaloons. “That rather depends on what type of entertainment you are offering.”

  He lifted his gaze from her bosom and caught her eyes. “Come with me and find out. I am sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”

  “Hmmm.” The witch dropped her eyes again, and he could almost feel her mouth on him. “Yes. I believe I will. Meet me outside. I have the red town coach. You can enter on the opposite side from the door.”

  How was it that Crispin had never noticed how dic-tative Englishwomen could be on their home territory? It was not like that in France. Here discretion ruled their lives. No wonder so many gentlemen frequented brothels or kept at least one mistress. “Are you not worried your coachman will talk?”

  “I pay him well.” She raised one brow. “If he wishes to keep his position, he will keep where I go to himself.” Lady Holloway trailed her closed fan along his arm and left.

  This night would not be a loss after all.

  In anticipation of finding an amorous partner, he’d sent his carriage home. He didn’t want any of his father’s servants to know about the house he’d hired. Crispin waited for a while before making his way into the hall and out onto the pavement. The door closed on a small red town coach. He strolled to the other side and opened the door. “Do you want to give the address or shall I?”

  She settled her skirts, taking time in answering him. “I will.” Crispin gave her an address on Savile Row, and she knocked on the roof of the carriage and gave it to her coachman. Once the coach started forward, she said, “I do not think I have ever been there.”

  “The street is filled with a great many military men and their families, as well as some shops.” She smoothed her skirts again, confusing him. She had appeared so confident before. “You do not have to worry about being seen. We can go in through the back if you wish.”

  “Thank you.” Lady Holloway chuckled lightly. “I suppose I should admit that I have never done this before. I am recently out of mourning for my husband and have decided to live my life to please myself instead of my husband or family.”

  That was a story he’d heard many times before. “Will you remarry?”

  She flashed him what might have been a grin. Or a grimace. It was too dark to tell. “If I do, it will not be anytime soon. I want to enjoy myself for a while.”

  “As do I.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “Tonight, we will take it slowly and learn what the other likes.” Many ladies in her position were surprisingly ignorant of the finer points of amorous congress, and he’d be more than happy to teach her. He liked watching their faces as they discovered bliss for the first time. He liked having myriad lovers, and despite his duty to sire an heir, he had absolutely no desire to tie himself down to one woman. As he did with his lovers, Crispin would make sure his wife enjoyed their time in bed, but she wouldn’t be his only bedmate.

  The clock struck two as he rolled off Lady Holloway and slipped his arm around her. Her heart still pounded a sharp tattoo, and her body glistened with their exertions. She had not been totally untutored, but her husband had never taught her how many ways there were to pleasure a woman.

  No matter their intimacies, she still had not even told him her first name. Crispin supposed it was her way to maintain a distance, but he didn’t like it. Using a bored drawl, he said, “I trust you enjoyed yourself, my lady.”

  Her blue eyes searched his. “You know I did.”

  “Yet, you will not allow me to know your name.” He cupped one generous breast, molding it as he feathered his thumb over her nipple. He’d soon be ready again.

  A shiver ran through her and her nipple drew into a tight bud. “I do not use yours either.”

  “But I have told you to call me Crispin.” He drew the bud into his mouth, reveling in the way she pressed against him. He’d been lucky to find a widow so starved for a man. He stroked her already heated skin. “I believe I shall have to withhold my attentions until you give me yours.”

  “Jean,” she gasped as he covered her and her legs wrapped around him. “It’s Jean.”

  She moaned with pleasure as he plunged into her. God, he loved women.

  * * *

  Adeline rolled over and turned her pillow—for the thousandth time. Ever since supper last evening, the blas
ted man kept intruding on her thoughts. To make it worse, it was the wrong gentleman. That night she dreamed of Littleton’s sharply molded lips and the dimple that came out when he smiled. She also remembered the strained expression on his face just before he hailed the waiter at Gunter’s. That did not make sense to her.

  Her dreams revolved around baby pigs and little girls. The girls had curling black hair and green eyes, and he was giving each of them a piglet. The strange thing was that in her dream, she had been there as well, encouraging them to give the piglets names. Then ladies were popping out of bushes and from behind sofas, trying to get his attention.

  Adeline made herself stay in bed until her maid opened the bed hangings and curtains.

  “Good morning, my lady,” Fendall said, ruthlessly pulling the bed hangings back. “Your great beastie will be here soon.” She stepped over to the toilet table. “I ordered tea and some toast to tide you over until breakfast.”

  Tossing back the covers, Adeline threw her legs over the side of the bed, then went to make her morning ablutions. “Thank you.”

  She hurried through the tea and toast. It was one thing to keep a gentleman waiting. That was almost required, although she never did. But it was quite another to keep a servant—especially one who was doing one a favor—waiting. That was rude.

  She gazed out the window as she sipped her tea. It was clear, and a soft breeze wafted in from the window. “It looks like it will be a nice day.”

  “That’s what Mr. Abney says, my lady.”

  The clock struck the hour and she rushed downstairs.

  When Humphries arrived with Maximus, she was almost, but not quite, surprised not to see Lord Littleton. Yet he had said he would not come. Apparently, in some things he was a man of his word.

  “Mornin’ to ye, my lady.” Humphries reached up, as if he would pull on a cap, then remembered to bow.

  “Good morning, Humphries.” Maximus leaned against Adeline’s legs as he tried to wrap himself around her. “And good morning to you, Maximus.” The footman shoved the lead at her. She wanted to take it, but Maximus was big; well, huge might be a better word. “Are you sure I can handle him?”