An Uncommon Courtship

by Kristi Ann Hunter

  The countess’s presence nearly knocked aside Adelaide’s plans for composure and poise, but she gave a regal nod. “Lady Blackstone. It has been a while.”

  Lady Blackstone was sitting neatly on a settee next to the most gorgeous woman Adelaide had ever seen. It had been some years since she’d seen Lady Georgina, but it was obvious why Helena had been so determined to marry before the young woman made her debut bow in Society. That Lady Georgina had married a businessman so far beneath her on the social ladder was a testament to how much love matches meant to the Hawthorne family.

  The welcoming, humor-touched smile on the beautiful young woman’s face did nothing to quell the clenching of Adelaide’s heart even as she refused to let herself fret, at least not outwardly. She and Trent weren’t a love match. They weren’t even a marriage of convenience. They were the product of bad luck and a conniving, status-hungry woman.

  “Would any of you care for tea?” Adelaide asked as she looked toward the third lady in the room.

  The Duchess of Marshington, the older of Trent’s sisters, stood by the window. She didn’t fidget or move about but she still projected a nervous energy, as if she were too agitated to sit until she absolutely had to. It had to be her eyes. For while Her Grace’s posture remained perfect and calm, her eyes immediately flitted in Adelaide’s direction and assessed her in one long, sweeping gaze before tightening at the corners. “Tea would be lovely.”

  Grateful for any excuse to step from the room, Adelaide turned back to the door to give instructions to the waiting footman. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see Fenton already making his way through the house with a loaded tea service. Of course the servants would know what Trent’s family members liked and see to it as soon as they arrived. Like Lady Raebourne, the three ladies in the drawing room probably knew more about the house than Adelaide did.

  At least the prompt arrival of tea would give her something to do with her hands.

  She just hoped they didn’t shake. Nothing gave away nerves like a clattering teacup.

  With Fenton on her heels, she walked back into the room. “Here we are.”

  Another several minutes were spent arranging the tea service and pouring tea. Lady Blackstone waited until her daughters had been served to request hers with a light splash of milk. Adelaide handed the cup to Lady Blackstone before giving her tea the same treatment.

  “I hear you married my son.” Lady Blackstone’s voice wasn’t cold, but Adelaide didn’t think the woman was particularly happy about the statement she’d just made either.

  “Mother, kindly remember that Lady Adelaide is your daughter by marriage, not birth. There’s no need to lecture her.” The Duchess of Marshington dropped back in the chair to Adelaide’s right, saluting Adelaide with her teacup before bringing it to her smiling lips. “Welcome to the family.”

  “Miranda, a lady never slumps in a chair, particularly not in public.” Lady Blackstone frowned at her oldest daughter, but it looked like nothing more than habit, her eyes conveying loving indulgence.

  Her Grace sighed but righted her posture. The smile on her face tilted a bit higher on one side, making it look impish. “I’m not in public. You know, I outrank you now. If I wanted to I could make slumping in drawing room chairs the de rigueur thing to do. Particularly if I got Georgina to join me.”

  “I’ll thank you to leave me out of this.” Lady Georgina cut her hand through the air. “Besides I don’t know how you can abide sitting like that. It makes it very uncomfortable to drink your tea.”

  “She knows.” Lady Blackstone lifted an eyebrow in the duchess’s direction even as a smile teased the corner of her mouth. “And regardless of your rank, I am your mother. And since, as you reminded me, we are not in public, it means that at this moment, I outrank you.”

  Adelaide swung her gaze back and forth among the ladies, marveling at the banter. She couldn’t imagine having such a conversation with her own mother and sister. Was this what all families were like, or was it Trent’s family that was different than normal? Her eyes were threatening to dry out with her wide-eyed staring, so she blinked a few times and took a sip of tea, hoping the women would continue to talk amongst themselves until they decided they’d stayed the proper amount of time.

  She was not to be so lucky.

  The duchess grinned at her mother before turning the wide smile in Adelaide’s direction. “You may call me Miranda. There are too many dukes and duchesses in the room when the family gets together to go around Your Grace-ing everyone. Besides, it makes Georgina feel left out.”

  “Hmm, yes, quite. That’s why I’ve started going by Mrs. McCrae in more informal situations. I crave the ranking.”

  Adelaide wanted to shift in her seat as all three women turned in her direction, but she forced herself to remain still—with the proper ladylike posture, of course—and asked Georgina, “What should I call you?”

  “Georgina will suffice when it is family. I do still go by Lady Georgina in London, though. It makes things a bit easier for Colin if people remember he married the daughter of a duke.”

  Miranda snorted. “It makes things easier for Colin when people remember how much money he helps them acquire.”

  Lady Blackstone set her cup in the saucer and sighed. “Miranda, a lady never discusses money with anyone except her husband. And even that should be avoided whenever possible.”

  Adelaide was fairly sure she could slip out of the room and none of the three ladies would miss her.

  Georgina looked from her mother to her older sister. “Kindly remember we came to visit Lady Adelaide, not discuss your ongoing difference of opinion on proper behavior for a lady.” Her green eyes speared into Adelaide, proving she could be as lethal as her mother if she decided Adelaide wasn’t good for Trent.

  Not that there was anything they could do about it. The marriage had already occurred. The worst that could happen now was Adelaide being banished to the country and Trent continuing on as if she didn’t exist. He wouldn’t be able to marry again, but he’d at least have his home back.

  “So we are.” Lady Blackstone slid her cup onto the table and folded her hands in her lap. “I apologize for not visiting sooner. I’m afraid I didn’t learn of your marriage until yesterday. I know I haven’t been to Riverton much since my marriage, but I wasn’t aware that you and Trent were even acquainted.”

  “We aren’t,” Adelaide stammered before she had a chance to think it through. That probably wasn’t the best thing to have said. Trent had told them the circumstances, hadn’t he? He could hardly hide his presence in Griffith’s house from his family. Still, she tried to lessen the shock her words seemed to have brought to the other ladies’ faces. “Or rather we weren’t. It’s a bit complicated.”

  “I see,” Lady Blackstone—who had not invited Adelaide to call her anything else—said quietly. Adelaide was rather afraid that she did.

  Three pair of eyes stared her down. Despite the fact that Lady Blackstone was the scariest woman in the room at the moment, Adelaide chose to meet her light blue gaze. The other two were a green much too similar to Trent’s for her comfort.

  Moments passed. Adelaide’s heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to beat uncontrollably or stop altogether.

  Despite the earlier banter, the daughters seemed to be waiting on some signal from their mother. Adelaide didn’t know what she could do to satisfy the countess beyond what she’d already done, so she simply sat there and focused all of her energy on not breaking eye contact, though she probably blinked a few more times than was absolutely necessary.

  Finally, Lady Blackstone spoke. “I don’t know what happened, and at this moment it bares little significance, as the deed is done. But regardless of the situation my son’s happiness is of great importance to me. So I have one question, if you don’t mind my asking it.”

  Adelaide swallowed and nodded. There was truly no other possible response.

  “Do you love my son?”

  “I barely know
him, my lady,” Adelaide whispered, stunned at the truth that popped out of her mouth. She spoke again before she could really think about it. “But I’d like to. It seems like it would be a nice thing to love one’s husband.”

  The answer seemed to satisfy the countess because she nodded and broke their connection. “I’m positively thrilled that Lady Yensworth has decided not to do a particular theme for her ball this year. Last year’s masquerade was tedious.”

  Miranda groaned while Georgina tried not to cough into her teacup. She took a hasty swallow before looking up. “Yes. Quite tedious.”

  “Are you and Trent attending the ball?” Miranda slid her cup to the table and folded her hands in her lap.

  Adelaide blinked. “I . . . that is . . .”

  “Of course she is going.” Lady Blackstone rose to her feet and extracted a paper from her reticule. “Since Trent is determined to give you the Season you never had, I’ve taken the liberty of making a list of events you shouldn’t miss over the next few weeks.” She handed the paper to Adelaide.

  “Thank you.” And Adelaide was thankful. Without guidance, determining their social engagements had been daunting at best, but more often than not the task terrified her. It wasn’t lost on her that Lady Blackstone was providing more assistance and care than her own mother. Did Trent know how fortunate he was?

  Lady Blackstone’s lips curled into a smile a bit broader than the polite smile she’d been wearing earlier. “Now for the fun part. We must get you ready.”

  Georgina clapped her hands together with glee. “I love spending other people’s money.”

  Miranda frowned. “Do I have to go? I hate shopping.”

  Lady Blackstone lifted an eyebrow again. “We are showing solidarity for your new sister. As the Duchess of Marshington you will participate.”

  “Shopping?” Adelaide’s knees shook as she rose to her feet. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Lady Blackstone. I haven’t discussed pin money or anything with Trent yet.”

  “I know how many bills my son can manage. Just because a lady never talks of money doesn’t mean she shouldn’t know a thing or two about it.” Lady Blackstone swept across the room toward the door. “And do call me Caroline.”

  Chapter 20

  “I assured your lovely wife that you would not be upset at her missing your ride this afternoon. While I’ll endeavor not to interfere in your plans in the future, I’m afraid it was unavoidable today.”

  Trent stared wide-eyed at the mother who only that morning had informed him that his courtship plan was nonsense. “Of course I don’t mind. But, er, what were you doing?”

  “Spending a great deal of your money, which you should have seen to already. Also, I was making sure no harm would come from your ridiculous plot. You may thank me later.”

  She handed Trent a piece of paper. “These are the events I recommend you attend if you want to give her a complete social experience as quickly as possible. I assume once you’ve done that you’ll move back home and stop this nonsense?”

  Trent took the paper with numb fingers as he nodded.

  “Good.” Mother folded her hands in front of her. “Until that happens I suggest you spend as much time at your clubs as possible. People must see you out and about, not gathering dust here in your brother’s home. You will send Adelaide a note each morning, detailing where you expect to be so that she will not be caught off guard by any visitors looking for you.”

  Trent hadn’t thought about that, though his experience with Givendale at the boxing ring had made him a bit concerned. Trust his mother to come up with a solution before he’d even realized the full problem. Because it was better than being shamed by his mother’s accusatory glare, Trent looked at the list of events. Nearly every day had something, and some days even listed two events. They were going to be a very busy couple, which he had no problem with. A bit of excitement unfurled within him at the thought, proof that his courtship plan was working. “It’s not nonsense.”

  Mother sighed. “It is. But somehow you’ve convinced her it’s romantic. Miranda seems to agree with her.”

  Trent knew there was a reason he liked Miranda. Less than a year apart in age, the two of them had always been especially close growing up. He knew he should have expected her to see what he was trying to do. Still, something about the way his mother was talking about the entire thing made him uneasy. “What do you mean you were making sure no harm would come from my plan?”

  Mother tilted her head and sighed, making Trent feel like a foolish child instead of a grown man. “You have left your wife, a woman unknown to most of London, alone. She has no established friends, no history. My son, you are the brother of a duke. A duke with a reputation for actually caring what happens to his family. Do you honestly think no one will try to use her to get to you and by extension, Griffith?”

  Apparently there was very good reason for Trent to feel like a foolish child. Had he missed this sort of subtle political manipulation before or had he been left alone, seen as the careless younger brother not yet worth the effort? Funny how marriage suddenly matured a man in the eyes of society. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He swallowed. “I’ll move home.”

  “While I would obviously think that wise, it goes against the course of action you have chosen. Your situation is ridiculous enough without your adding bitterness or some other such notion to the mix. You’ve nothing to worry about. We have set up a visiting rotation. As her new family we will be able to chaperone Adelaide without raising suspicion among anyone. And as much as I’ve never understood the familiarity you have with your staff, in this case it is a boon, because they will look out for any mischief as well. Whenever you go out, you will escort her home and send the carriage away. After thirty minutes you will come out the back, where Griffith’s driver will be waiting in a simple hack. There’s no need for all of London to know about this foolishness.”

  If Trent had ever wondered how his mother managed to raise a duke after the death of his father, all of his questions would now have been answered. In less than twelve hours his mother had concocted and put into motion a plan that was more thought out than his simple idea had ever been. She’d looked at every angle and effectively planned against potential pitfalls. No wonder his father had always looked at her with such awe on his face.

  Trent smiled and leaned forward to kiss his mother on the cheek in a show of affection he hadn’t given her since he’d been a boy. A hint of pink brushed her cheeks.

  She cleared her throat and clasped her hands together at her waist. “Now. We’ve a few minutes yet before I need to return home and ready myself for the evening. I hadn’t planned on going out much this Season but that has obviously changed for the foreseeable future. We will be out in full force to show support for your new wife. Speculation about the marriage is already rampant, and that foolish woman Lady Crampton is only fueling it. I’ve always thought that woman would throw her own daughter to the wolves if it achieved greater popularity.” Mother pressed her lips together in irritation. There weren’t many people who bothered his mother enough for her to show it, and even then she only released the emotion in private, but Lady Crampton had always been one of them. The two women had known each other since their own London Seasons, and more than once Trent had wondered if something had happened then to cause the lingering animosity.

  Unfortunately, Mother’s irritation was now redirected at him. “In these remaining moments, you are going to sit down and explain to me exactly how you ended up in this situation. And you”—she pointed to somewhere over Trent’s shoulder—“are going to tell me why you didn’t stop it.”

  Trent turned to see Griffith coming down the stairs with a stack of papers in his hands. He’d obviously been headed toward his study and looked confused by his mother’s interruption. Though he couldn’t possibly have known what was going on, the confusion soon cleared from his face. “My study, then?”

  “No. The drawing room. The white one with all the spindly f
urniture you both despise. I have a feeling I am not going to like this conversation, and so you are not going to like it either.” Mother sniffed and turned toward the formal drawing room off the main hall.

  Trent groaned and followed. He was convinced there wasn’t a man alive who didn’t hate this room, though none of them had ever complained when they came to visit Miranda or Georgina. Done almost entirely in white, it made a man feel like an awkward, bumbling schoolboy. It had been decorated for his sisters to receive callers in during their Seasons, and both of the brothers were convinced it had been intentionally designed to make men feel ill at ease in order to give their sisters every possible advantage.

  Now it was their mother holding the advantage. The brothers walked to the drawing room like men headed for the gallows.

  The glaring white of the room was broken only by the occasional accent of gold. From the gold-veined white marble fireplace to the thin gold stripes on the white settee and the lightly gilded frames that dotted the white silk-covered walls, there wasn’t an inch that would forgive the slightest bit of dirt on a man’s clothing or boots. The room was famous across London, and Trent guessed that many a man had made sure to come calling straight from his rooms so as not to be the one to mar the white perfection.

  Mother preceded them into the room, but instead of sitting to the side on the gold-striped settee she’d occupied through her daughters’ Seasons, she settled into a white-on-white-brocade armchair, gesturing for the two men to share the sofa across from her.

  Trent eyed the thin curving legs before easing onto the seat. Griffith plopped his massive frame down with more force than normal, his feet actually lifting from the floor as his back landed against the back of the seat. Trent wished he’d had the foresight to join him. If they’d broken the sofa, their mother couldn’t make them sit on it, might not have even wanted to stay in the same room as the splintered furniture.