Demure.
Dorothea’s words rang in her mind and she clasped her hands in front of her in an effort to control herself.
Harry’s handsome face, his serious eyes that missed nothing as he swept them over the assemblage, caused her heart to stutter with excitement. When they passed over her, she could almost feel his gaze like a physical touch, the whisper of silk over her skin, and she was sorry when his regard moved on to the next person with nary a nod of acknowledgment.
Disappointed, she turned back to face the other ladies, dragging her gaze from him to stare down to where she clasped her hands before her. They were not the smooth white hands of Dorothea, who used her own to great advantage while speaking, moving them with grace and drama to illustrate her words.
No, Adelia’s hands were rough from years of farming and then toiling as a maid of all work at the orphanage. Before she arrived at Cornhill, she had no maid to massage oil into her sore palms and fingers.
Adelia’s heart pounded in her chest as Harry and his companion, Lord Braewood came to pay their respects.
She smiled at him even as he appeared to be taken aback by her exuberance. She was embarrassed to realize that it was probably because her smile was too big, displaying too many teeth and not at all sufficiently ladylike. She dimmed it to something more genteel, displaying no teeth at all, and was relieved when she saw Lady Melissa striding their way.
Lady Melissa was a tall lady, wearing a very smart jacket with a tail, similar to the gentlemen’s clothing. Her split skirt allowed for her manly stride in glistening black Hessians. She wore her hair closely cropped, much to the shock of everyone in the ton. She carried a croquet mallet in her hand as if it were a sword rather than sporting paraphernalia. Lady Melissa was the first member of the gentry that Adelia had met and felt at home with.
“Good day,” Lady Melissa said, as she reached them. She offered them all a bow, instead of a curtsy, which made the Harringtons look even more pinched than usual.
“How fares the croquet, Lady Melissa?” asked Dorothea, who had joined them at some point as Adelia was preoccupied with her own angst.
“We’ve just lost a few players to the sulks.”
She pointed her mallet toward one of Lord Braewood’s brothers, Lord Sheridan, who was striding away from the others. There were red blotches of annoyance on his cheeks, and his friend Lord Erick Cartwright trailed close in his wake. Lord Erick gave the impression of teasing Sheridan, if the narrow glances the latter was shooting the former were any indication.
“Lord Sheridan is such a sore loser,” Lady Dorothea sighed.
“Anyone interested in a game?” Lady Melissa asked. She pointed her mallet again at the remaining players grouped around the starting peg.
“I do not know how to play,” Adelia was eager to find an excuse to distance herself from the ladies. She knew the moment the gentlemen left their little group, Lady Wyndell would give voice to all the invectives she was holding back, and probably add a few poorly-veiled ones about Adelia, as well. “But I would enjoy it, I think.”
“Excellent! Anyone else?” asked Lady Melissa. “Lady Dorothea, Lord Braewood?”
Dorothea drew her attention from where she had coyly been flirting with the Earl.
“Indeed, no,” said she. “I was hoping to catch up with Lord Braewood. It has been a year, at least, since I have seen him.”
“Though it has felt like two,” said Lord Braewood, with admirable gallantry. Beside him, Dorothea simpered. Adelia lowered her gaze to keep from rolling her eyes.
“I haven’t played in years,” Harry said. “May I?”
“Of course,” said Lady Melissa. She was the nicest person Adelia had ever met, and would never turn away a person for his lack of birth. Adelia smiled at her, the toothy smile, and Lady Melissa gave her a confused look before returning it with one of her own.
“Very good,” Lady Melissa said. “Your Grace, My Lords and Ladies,” she said to the others, giving another short bow, and strode away, leaving Adelia and Harry to follow at their leisure.
They shared an amused glance before speaking their farewells to the group and heading after her.
“My Lady?” The Duke, held his arm out, in order to escort her to the spot where the others awaited and hoops had been set up.
Adelia licked her lips apprehensively, casting a glance back to her mother, before sliding her hand under and around his elbow, resting it on his forearm. That little thrill ran up her arm once more.
“I have never played croquet before,” she confessed to him, “so I shall have to depend on you to teach me.”
“A duty I shall take seriously,” he replied, but when she glanced up to see if he were mocking her, there was only a tiny curve of his lips to show he was teasing. She did not relish being teased, but it was obvious that he meant it in the gentlest way possible, so she could not take offense.
He briefed her on the rules of croquet as they strolled toward the area of play. She felt they were simple enough that even she should not make too bad of a mish-mash of them. “Lady Adelia!” called Lady Melissa from the pitch, waving her long arms in an unladylike way that would make a Harrington blanch. “We’re ready!”
This time, as they walked, he placed his hand over hers, where it rested on his forearm, and Adelia forced a swallow past the tightening in her throat.
They moved to the pitch where Lady Melissa awaited them, and found that the other players were several of the Crowley family: the heir to Eynesbury, Lord Wolfe; his younger brother Lord Parker; and their niece, Lady Rebecca, and nephew Lord Elijah, the last two of whom were squabbling over who got to be red and who yellow.
“Lord Elijah, you were red last time, so this time, you will be yellow and Lady Rebecca red,” Parker said, at last, facilitating the exchange of mallets. “Good morning, My Lady.”
“Lord Parker,” she said with a curtsy aimed at everyone. “Lord Wolfe, Lord Elijah, Lady Rebecca. May I present to you His Grace, Harry, the Duke of Rosemond.”
Harry bowed correctly at everyone. They greeted him in return, with the elder Crowleys shooting Adelia amused glances.
She had had quite a few dealings with them; Dorothea was good friends with Lady Francesca Crowley, and thus they were thrown together when both in proximity to her sister.
Lord Parker was a character. He had made the most shocking proposition to Adelia not ten minutes after meeting her, but in such a clever way she could not help but be entertained by it instead of offended. She had not interacted much with the younger siblings, but they were agreeable enough, welcoming her cheerfully once their little dispute was resolved.
“I shall be green,” announced Lord Wolfe, “to match my pretty eyes, and Lady Melissa shall be blue, to match hers.” He peered at Adelia. “We don’t have gold to match yours, My Lady… can you settle for being red?”
“I think the Duke should be red,” she replied, “to match his coat of arms.”
“Then you should be white, to almost match your straw-colored hair,” said Lord Parker, “and I shall be black since I am the black sheep of the family.” There was a razor’s edge to his grin, even as Harry shot him a sympathetic glance.
Adelia found out that she was an indifferent croquet player, but very much enjoyed the time spent listening to the Crowleys bicker with each other and Lady Melissa. Also, her time spent with Harry was entertaining. She loved talking with him, or just watching him surreptitiously to avoid drawing even more attention to herself.
She was fond of his looks, she liked the way his blond hair curled at the nape of his neck no matter how ruthlessly he tied it back. She reveled in the gentleness with which he spoke to her. How he touched her when they ambled along.
Even though Adelia was a dreadful croquet player, much to her chagrin, the others just laughed it off. They played a second game where she fared slightly better, but was still last. Her mock pout made them all laugh. Well, all except for Harry, who just stared at her mouth until she felt quite
breathless. Lord Wolfe began to laugh at them but would not reveal why.
Adelia knew why.
She was not as naïve as the average debutante. She thought it ironic that Lord Wolfe thought himself so insightful but was so oblivious when it came to Lady Melissa. She wondered if he even realized that he cared for Lady Melissa in a way besides friendship, or that Lady Melissa was languishing for love of him.
However, Lord Parker was aware; Adelia and he had shared rueful glances several times over the two of them.
Love was indeed a difficult affair.
The Earl of Braewood caught Adelia’s eye and smiled as their croquet game came to an end and they moved on to the enormous picnic that had been laid out for them.
If appearances were to be believed, it seemed that Lord Braewood’s interest had been acquired by Dorothea. She clung to his arm, and his hand covered hers, in the same manner of Adelia herself with Harry.
Dorothea, too, was gazing up into Braewood’s handsome face with starry eyes. Adelia found herself glad for it, for it was uncomfortable for her to see the look of longing Dorothea probably did not know she wore when Harry came to visit. She did not think she could bear to see her sister on a frequent basis when she was Harry’s wife if she thought Dorothea was still carrying a torch for him. The idea bothered her considerably.
Harry did not ask for her company at luncheon, specifically, but it felt very natural for them to remain partnered throughout the meal.
He should have looked stiff and preposterous, seated on a blanket on the grass—and certainly, several other gentlemen seemed less than comfortable—but he just unbuttoned his coat and affected a casual cross-legged pose. Truthfully, Adelia envied him the ability to do. She was forced to sit with her legs primly curled to the side.
Lady Melissa, on Adelia’s left, did not bother with prudishness. She, too, sat cross-legged, steadily clearing the plate in her lap. At one point, she inclined her head toward Adelia and whispered, “Your Duke seems quite taken with you. Are we to expect a proposal soon?”
Adelia showed her colors. “I expect so.”
It might be tempting fate to speak of such things but Adelia knew for a fact what Harry’s intentions were and saw no reason to keep it to herself. Lady Melissa was becoming a dear friend. When she looked back at Harry, however, it was clear he had heard Lady Melissa’s words. He did not look concerned about it and so Adelia decided to let it go.
When the meal was over, Adelia was reluctant to part from Harry, and she thought—just perhaps—he might feel the same. He had a very direct but affectionate way of looking into her eyes as if he were thinking intently but did not dare voice his thoughts aloud. She would have liked it if he dared. She would like it very much, indeed. She, too, also had many things she would like to tell him. But now was not the time.
Soon enough, however, the ladies were called away to repose before it was time to dress for dinner. They all retired to their individual chambers. Adelia spent the recess on her embroidery and then chose to wear an evening gown of the palest green silk with gold vines and leaves embroidered around the décolletage that framed her bosom becomingly.
Dinner passed quickly. Adelia was seated between Lord Erick and Lord Sheridan and underwent much tedious conversation with them until, blessedly, the meal was over. Musical entertainment was planned in the conservatory and the evening was spent listening to various young ladies tormenting their respective instruments.
Chapter 24
Winging It
Adelia did not have the opportunity to speak with Harry again, having been directed to a specific seat by Lady Cornhill herself. A stricter chaperone could not be imagined, and Adelia was forced to be on her best behavior until, thankfully, all were excused to escape to their rooms for the night.
She skipped breakfast the next morning and remained closeted in her chamber, needing the quiet time to compose herself for the endless festivities that would mark the rest of the day.
She busied herself until fairly late in the morning when voices on the terrace below her open window indicated it was time for luncheon. Adelia put away her embroidery, washed her face and hands, and went to join the others, feeling quite famished.
She had just caught sight of Harry standing with his companion, Lord Braewood, at the bottom of the garden, when Dorothea waved her over to join her, their parents, Lord Erick, and Lord Sheridan. The group were seated at one of the many tables dotting the garden, indulging in the generous fare on offer.
Hiding her reluctance, Adelia joined them at the table, sitting quietly and focusing on the plate that was placed in front of her by one of the ubiquitous footmen. Eating steadily, she let the barbed quips that passed for conversation wash over her rather than contributing. It was a fine day and she reveled in the pleasant breeze sweeping through the garden, as well as the chatter around them from the other guests.
Some of the guests were merely standing around enjoying their drinks while others finished up with the various games on offer. Luncheon was an informal affair or so she had been told and not everyone sat down at the same time.
“Don’t you agree, sister?” asked Dorothea, and Adelia lifted her head to find that not only were the others all watching her, intent upon her response, but that Lord Braewood and Harry stood beside the table, as well. As she fluttered her eyelids, trying hard to orient herself within the discussion, the two new arrivals took the remaining empty seats; Lord Braewood next to Dorothea and, Harry at her very own side.
As she waited for Adelia’s response, Dorothea speared a single berry from her plate and popped it deftly into her mouth—her meal consisted of a solitary canapé and a thin slice of melon.
Adelia considered her own plate. Even half-eaten, it held the remaining half of a sizeable sandwich, two canapés, and she still had a bowl of melon and berries to eat, too. She pushed the plate a bit away, feeling gluttonous in contrast to Dorothea.
“I apologize,” she gave a tepid smile. “I was daydreaming.”
“I said,” began Dorothea, very pleasantly, which meant she was annoyed, “that it would be lovely to go punting, would it not?”
One of the many outdoor features at Cornhill was actually a moat, the relic of a more martial time. It was spring-fed and used more for relaxation than defense these days. Its cool blue waters looked inviting, especially when the summer days were very warm.
“Oh, yes, absolutely,” Adelia nodded in agreement. “It sounds just the thing.”
Someone prodded her arm, catching her attention. She dropped her eyes to find Harry pushing the plate back toward her, tacitly encouraging her to complete her meal. She blinked at him; he nodded and gave her his little smile. Hesitantly, she commenced eating again.
Dorothea seemed satisfied that Adelia had involved herself adequately and returned to trying to dazzle Lord Braewood.
Their parents departed to mingle with their other guests, Lord Sheridan and Lord Erick went back to trifling with each other, and that left Adelia to speak with Harry.
She smiled at him, and he returned it with his own. “You said, yesterday, that you would like to meet my new horse,” he said once her plate was empty. “Are you still interested?”
He stood and held out a hand to help her up. Once on her feet again, rather closer to him than she had expected to be, Adelia could detect the scent of sandalwood and cheroot on him, along with a freshness she could not place. The urge to bury her nose against his shoulder was strong, but all she said was, “Yes, please.”
But she could hardly go wandering around alone with an unrelated man, even if he was almost her fiancé.
“Ah, there’s Lady Melissa,” Adelia said with relief, and went over to where her friend sat, yet again, with the Crowleys. “The Duke has kindly offered to introduce me to his new horse. Would you join us?”
“Yes, let’s go see the thoroughbred,” Lord Wolfe said, inviting himself along, just grinning when Lady Melissa rolled her eyes at him.
“Will Pegasus let
me pet him?” Adelia asked Harry as they left the house in the direction of the stables.
She was exquisitely aware of Lady Melissa and Lord Wolfe a mere step or two behind them, and though she and Harry were only touching where her hand rested on his arm, with inches of space between them everywhere else, she felt as if they were witnessing her being inappropriate with him.
“I’m never sure who he’ll take a liking to,” Harry said. “But he’s generally an excellent judge of character.” He gave her a fleeting look. “As are you.” His voice was so quiet she almost didn’t hear him. Behind them, Lady Melissa and Lord Wolfe were squabbling about something, and Adelia prayed they didn’t hear him, either.
“Why do you say that?” she breathed.
“I think I’ve known you long enough now to be able to tell,” he replied, “and if I had the slightest doubt, your antipathy toward Lady Wyndell would have removed it.”
A Vixen For The Devilish Duke (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 20
