Page 1 of The Most Eligible Lord in London
Chapter One
Littleton House, Mayfair, London, 1818
Frederick, Lord Littleton—Frits to his mother and grandmother—gave one final twitch to his cravat before allowing his valet to attach his pocket watch and quizzer. “Lord Turley is dining with me this evening.”
“I shall inform the cook, my lord.”
“You’d better tell my mother as well.” Frits took his hat and gloves. “She should arrive at any time now.”
“Yes, my lord.” Ayles opened the door to the chamber and bowed. “We shall all be glad to have her ladyship in residence.”
Frits refrained from answering. After the fine kettle of fish he’d made of things last Season, it wasn’t just his staff that would be pleased Mama was in Town. He should be the most eligible gentleman in London, but for his “mistake,” as she so delicately put it.
His butler opened the door as he approached. It was time to face the ton in the most public forum possible. The Grand Strut.
Nodding to his groom, he took the reins and swung up on his Friesian horse, Apollo. Never had Frits been so uncertain of his reception in the ton as he was today. Fortunately, he wouldn’t be alone for long. His friend Gavin, Viscount Turley, had promised to meet him at the Park. Frits’s hands grew damp in the gloves. He hadn’t been this nervous since his first day at Eton. Still, it was his own damned fault. Hopefully, no one would remember how badly he had behaved last year. And if they did, he would simply have to prove he’d learned his lesson.
Entering the Park through Grosvenor Gate, he almost turned around and went home. But if he lost his nerve now, it would be worse later. Perhaps he’d be lucky, and the matchmaking mamas would ignore his past behavior in favor of all his good points, mainly his bloodline, wealth, and title. And there was a whole new group of young ladies making their come out this year who must be married off. Not that he was going to advertise his hopes of finding a wife this Season. That would be folly.
Blast it all. Why had he decided to look for a wife in the first place? He should have just done what his father and every other Littleton had done for centuries: wait until he had to marry.
Pulling himself together, he rode onto the carriageway. Within a few seconds, he found himself being genially greeted by four matrons in a landau. The tension eased out of his shoulders. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as bad as he’d imagined.
“Lord Littleton”—Lady Wall wiggled her fingers at him—“I am glad to find you in Town.”
The lady next to her raised interested blue eyes to his, gave him a come-hither look, and said, “I do not believe we have been introduced.”
“Oh, my,” Lady Wall exclaimed. “It did not occur to me that you did not know his lordship. Allow me to make Lord Littleton known to you. My lord, this is Lady Holloway.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord.” Her generous lips rose in a smile.
In the past, he would have immediately returned her look for one of his own and made an arrangement to meet in a more secluded place. But his hunting instinct didn’t press him the way it used to. Perhaps that was the reason he’d decided to wed. He bowed. “The pleasure is mine.”
Lady Wall indicated the other two matrons in the carriage. “I trust you remember Lady Jersey and Lady Sefton?”
“Naturally.” Frits bowed again, and they exchanged greetings. “Ladies, I hope I find you in good health.”
“And you, my lord.” Lady Sefton inclined her head.
As the landau moved forward, Frits scanned the verge. He saw the one lady he had not wished to see, Lady Dorie Calthorp—daughter of the Marquis of Huntingdon, and his mistake—strolling with four other ladies. He’d behaved badly toward her last Season. Though not on purpose. For too long, he thought they would be a good match. But the more he grew to know her and her strengths and desires for her life, the more he was convinced marrying her would be a horrible mistake. But instead of finding a way to tell her, he’d fled London and returned to Littlewood, his main estate. And now it was too late to attempt to explain his panic. If he’d even had the words.
After taking a breath, he let it out slowly. He might as well get this over with. Frits just hoped she didn’t give him the cut direct.
Riding over to the group, he gave her his friendly smile. “Lady Dorie, well-met.”
The smile she returned was strained, and her eyes were hard. “Lord Littleton, I did not know you were in Town.”
“I arrived yesterday.” If looks could kill, he’d be lying on the ground bleeding. “Have you been in Town long?”
“Long enough.” Her words were clipped. She turned to the other ladies and made an elegant gesture toward him. “On the subject of gentlemen who appear eligible and are not, permit me to introduce to you Lord Littleton.” Damn and blast it. He fought to maintain his amiable countenance. She was obviously going to do her best to ensure he didn’t have an easy time finding a wife. “My lord, Lady Adeline Wivenly, Lady Augusta Vivers, Miss Featherton, and Miss Stern.”
He forced a smile and made what he knew was a stylish bow. “Ladies, it is a pleasure to meet you. I hope you enjoy your time in the metropolis.” Miss Stern gave him a hard look. Had Lady Dorie already blackened his name to her friend? Lady Augusta was polite but unaffected, as if she did not care one way or the other if she met him. Miss Featherton had narrowed her eyes as if assessing his worth as a human being. That was disconcerting, but it ran in her family. He knew her older brother and sister.
Then there was Lady Adeline. She just stared at him with considering, soft, gray eyes that shone like silver. Curls of gleaming, dark, honey-blond hair framed her face. She was utterly entrancing. Immediately, he wanted to know what she was thinking. As if she realized she should not continue to look at him, she dropped her gaze, and thick, brown lashes fluttered to her cheeks, drawing his attention to her straight, little nose and a light sprinkling of freckles. If only he’d met her in other company. Naturally, he could not help but notice her deep rose lips and the fact that her bottom lip was just a bit plumper than the top one. His gaze dropped lower, and he sucked in a breath. Even her demure spencer couldn’t hide the bounty beneath. He could have licked his lips at the thought of her in an evening gown. Here was a lady worth getting to know.
Frits dragged his gaze back to Lady Dorie but was unable to maintain his smile in the face of her displeasure. Not that it mattered. He’d found out what he needed to. She wasn’t going to cut him. Although she’d stick a spoke in his wheel if she could. As reluctant as he was to leave Lady Adeline, it was time to depart. “I hope to see you as well, my lady.” He glanced at her friends, allowing his gaze to linger longer on Lady Adeline. “I look forward to seeing all of you again.”
“I suppose that is unavoidable.” Lady Dorie dipped a slight curtsey. Not shallow enough to be insulting, but then again, her manners had always been impeccable. “Good day to you, my lord.”
