Page 54 of The Most Eligible Lord in London
The longer this went on, the more sympathy Adeline had for her brother. “I agree. That is an excellent idea. What traits did you tell him to look for?” He explained what he and Lord Turley had discussed. “Do not limit it only to gentlemen looking for a wealthy wife. One of the reasons she is interested in you is that you are so well set up.”
“I’ll keep an ear out as well,” her brother volunteered, surprising her yet again.
“Thank you.” For years, even after Will had married, she’d believed he was a rogue. Not that she thought he was unfaithful to his wife, but she had the idea that he was a here and therian. To be wrong not only pleased her, but made her wonder if she was mistaken about another gentleman. After all, if Adeline had misjudged her own brother—whom she had known all her life—could not a lady with less knowledge of a gentleman be mistaken as well? What would be the best way to discover the truth of the matter? No one discussed the things gentlemen got up to with unmarried young ladies. She slid a glance at her brother. If she asked, would he tell her?
Yet, if Littleton was not a rake, he had still treated her friend badly. Granted, she knew what Humphries thought had occurred. And she knew what Dorie had said. Still, Adeline had the feeling that the truth was somewhere in the middle.
It was time for the supper dance, and Lord Exeter led out Miss Chatham.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Littleton was waiting for Adeline to take his arm.
“I had hoped that Lady Dorie and Lord Exeter would make a match. I cannot see her with Lord Fotheringale.”
“Concerning Exeter’s intentions, things are not what they seem.” Littleton’s eyes were like soft green leaves. “However, it is not my story to tell.”
Adeline nodded. “There appear to be a great many things that are not as they appear in Town.”
“That’s the truth.” His arm encircled her waist. “It makes tenant squabbles and the like seem so much simpler.”
“Perhaps that is because they are. For the most part, everyone is honest about what they want.” That was probably because here, it involved looking for a husband or wife.
“For the most part.” He gazed down at her, but his smile was so wistful, she wished she could ask him what it was he wanted. Yet another thing that could not be spoken. “Whereas here, there are a great many things people will not discuss.”
“Yes.” Adeline wished she could give all her friends what they wanted—Dorie danced by with Fotheringale—yet perhaps not everything they wanted was the right thing for them. Not everyone, of course. But there seemed to be a lot of miscalculations about what might make one happy. And at least one situation that was not what it appeared to be. When had life become so complicated?
Adeline was in a brown study, and while Frits had her to himself, he wanted her attention on him. “Have I told you about Sebastian?”
“No.” She appeared puzzled. “Who is Sebastian?”
He grinned to himself and started telling the story. “Well, he started out as a barn cat, but he quickly turned into a kitchen cat. Now he fancies himself a family cat.” Frits heaved a dramatic sigh. “The next thing I know, he’ll run away to London.”
“To see the king.” She was laughing again, and his heart swelled. “Does he really exist?”
He gave her an affronted look. “Naturally he exists. I do not make up stories.”
She had relaxed into his arms again. “What does he look like?”
“He’s a red-and-cream tabby cat and very spoiled.” Frits wished he could have brought the cat to Town, but that would have presented all sorts of problems, especially if he wanted to go outside. “He and Maximus are great friends.”
“I have seen how well Great Danes and cats do together.” Adeline appeared wistful again, and he vowed that once they married, she would have pets.
“Great Danes get on with most animals.” He smiled at her. “Cows, horses, goats—although the goat isn’t always happy at first—chickens also have to be convinced.” She had started to chuckle lightly. If he kept it up, he’d have her laughing again. “They are very friendly dogs.”
“Except for squirrels,” she pointed out.
“That is a cultural problem.” He schooled his countenance so that he presented a serious mien. “Squirrels run when they’re afraid. Dogs run to play.”
“Ah.” Her silver eyes shone with mirth. “A definite difference in cultures. That explains it.” She shook her head thoughtfully. “I do not know how that problem can be resolved.”
“There you have it.” Frits wanted to hold her closer, but with her brother looking after her, he didn’t dare. “All would be well if we could only explain to the squirrel that the dog simply wants to play.”
Adeline smiled up at him, and his world tilted. He’d been right all along. She was the perfect lady for him. “That is something I’d like to see.”
She was happy, and that was how he wanted her to be. Yet every time she saw Lady Dorie, Adeline pulled away from him. Somehow, he had to find a way around the problem.
Something caught the corner of Frits’s eye. Anglesey was standing next to a young widow, Lady Holloway, who was shaking out her skirts. Normally, that wouldn’t mean much. The man seemed to spend a great deal of time with widows, and ladies shook out their skirts. Still, there was something about the two of them. The way his body leaned next to hers and hers to his. The movement of the waltz caused him to lose sight of the pair.
“Is anything wrong?” Concern infused Adeline’s soft voice.
