The Most Eligible Lord in London

by Ella Quinn

That was completely opposite to how Frits had been raised. His parents had almost always been around. “When you put it that way, it does sound a bit dismal.” Yet there was no reason she could not see as much of London as she wanted. “Did you not tell me that you wished to visit the sights while you were here?”

  Adeline tilted her head, as if trying to remember mentioning the subject. “I might have done so. I would like to visit the British Museum and the Tower of London. My brother mentioned taking his wife to Vauxhall.”

  “Those are excellent choices.” And he would help bring them about.

  “Lady Adeline?” Lady Worthington came up to them. “I am sorry to interrupt. Your family is leaving.”

  Adeline placed her serviette on the table. “I shall come directly.” She turned to him. “I did have a pleasant time, my lord.”

  He rose when she did and, bowing, took her hand. “I did as well. I wish you a good night.”

  When Adeline curtseyed to Frits, he sensed her reaction to him as his hand engulfed her much smaller one. “Thank you, I shall.”

  He watched her join her family and went to find his mother, who was also ready to leave. Once they had bid adieu to Lady Worthington and were in the coach, he mentioned his plans. “I wish to get up a theater party that includes Lady Adeline. I also need your advice on the best way to escort her to the museum and the Tower of London.”

  “Let us take first things first. Tomorrow is my at-home. I am sure Lady Watford will bring her daughter and daughter-in-law with her when she comes. I will mention the theater to her, and we shall arrange a date.”

  That sounded easy enough. The at-home gave him another idea. “Would you mind if Max makes an appearance? Lady Adeline expressed an interest in meeting him.” Even in the poor coach lighting, he could see his mother give him her surely-you-jest look. “It would be totally by accident, of course.”

  Mama let out a resigned huff. “Very well, but make certain it appears to be a mishap. You know I love him, but I do not wish to gain a reputation for allowing guests to be subjected to an overly affectionate beast.”

  An image popped into Frits’s mind of the Dane sitting with his hindquarters on one of the sofas leaning against a horrified lady. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  Lady Adeline, on the other hand, would be thrilled.

  Chapter Nine

  The following afternoon, Adeline followed her mother and sister-in-law to her mother’s landau as they began morning visits. Their third stop was in Grosvenor Square. It was not until they were in the drawing room that she realized they were at Littleton House.

  “I do not know why I’m surprised,” she muttered to herself. Their mothers were old friends. Still, she’d most likely not even see him. They had not seen any other gentlemen during their morning calls. Yet he had come to her mother’s at-home. Would he make a point of being there in the event she visited? Adeline hoped he would not.

  A group of older ladies were in the process of departing, causing everyone to greet her mother. Once the matrons left, they were escorted to a drawing room and announced. Tea was served, and she had the pleasure of discovering it was the tea she had sent to Lady Littleton.

  Adeline was nibbling on a lemon biscuit when a shout came from the direction of the hall and the door was nudged open by a large head. The dog grinned and, tail wagging, pranced straight to Lady Littleton.

  She raised her hand, holding out her palm in a stopping gesture. “Maximus, halt.”

  And he did, even though the dog clearly did not wish to.

  A dog! This was too good to be true. Adeline set her cup on a low table between the sofas. “My lady, may I stroke him?”

  “Of course you may, my dear. Do so on his back so he can get to know you.”

  “Adeline”—her mother’s tone was one of long suffering—“take off your gloves first.”

  “Oh, yes.” She did as she was asked, then stood and walked to the dog. As soon as she was a step away he turned his head to her and waited. “You are such a good boy.”

  Suddenly, he turned around to the door, where Lord Littleton stood. “There you are.” He gave his mother a contrite look. “I’ll take him. He got away from the footman.”

  “I was going to stroke him.” Her words were out before she thought about them.

  “It will be better if you do it in the corridor,” his mother said. “He has a tendency to shed.”

  “I’ll leave the door open,” Lord Littleton offered as he slapped his leg, bringing the dog to heel.

  Adeline followed him out of the room. “I have seen Lady Worthington’s Great Danes, but I have never had an opportunity to stroke one before.”

  She gently ran her hand along the dog’s spine. His fur was soft, and the more she stroked him, the closer he got to her, until he was leaning a large portion of his weight against her. “You are such an excellent gentleman.” He gazed up at her with soft brown eyes, and she rubbed his ears. “I wish I had a dog like you.” A clock chimed and she stepped back, shaking out her skirt. She did not want to leave, but her mother would be upset if she remained too long. She bent down and planted a kiss on Maximus’s head. “I had better go back.”

  “As should I.” Lord Littleton smiled down at his dog. “I have some letters to write to my estate managers, answering questions about the spring planting, before Maximus’s afternoon walk.”

  “How many times a day do you take him out?” It must be difficult to keep such a large dog exercised while in Town.

  “Two long walks—one in the morning and the second in the afternoon—and one short one before he goes to bed. They are really rather lazy animals.”

  Lord Littleton was still standing there patiently when it occurred to her that he was waiting for her to go back into the drawing room. “Until the next time.”

  “Until then.” He smiled, and she avoided looking at his eyes. They were the most dangerous part about him.

  By the time she joined the ladies, it was time for them to leave.

  “You have dog hair all over your skirt.” Her mother shook her head. “She has been fascinated with the beasts since she first saw them.”

  “I cannot blame her for that.” Lady Littleton smiled at Adeline. “I have long loved dogs. If you would like, and if your mother does not object, I can have Humphries, the footman who takes Maximus in the mornings, come by your house, and you may join them for their walk.”

  “Oh, I would love that.” She gave her mother a pleading look. “I frequently take a brisk stroll in the mornings.”

  “Very well.” Her mother focused a stern gaze on Adeline. “I warn you that you are not to think about acquiring one.”

  “I understand.” Unless she married a man who loved dogs as much as she did. Adeline would have to ensure that was on her list.

  Once they were in the carriage, her mother said, “Lady Littleton and I have decided an evening at the theater would be entertaining. Neither of you have had an opportunity to attend.”

  The theater! Adeline did her best not to clap her hands. “I think that is a delightful idea. May we see a comedy?”

  “Yes,” Eugénie agreed. “I would enjoy that as well.”

  “I shall discover what is playing.” Mama sat back against the plush swabs. “I do enjoy a good comedy.”

  * * *

  That evening they all attended Mrs. Brownly’s musical evening. Glancing around, Adeline found her friends and walked over to join them. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Littleton standing with Lord Turley.

  The moment she reached Dorie and Henrietta, she was told they needed to think of ladies for Lord Exeter.

  “But which gentleman is he?” Even though Adeline had heard a great deal about his lordship, she had no idea what he looked like.

  “The tall man speaking with Lord Huntingdon near the stairs,” Henrietta said.

  She followed the line of her friend’s gaze. The gentleman in question was tall and broad shouldered, with dark brown hair. “He’s quite except
ional-looking. Dorie, are you sure you are not interested?”

  “Positive.” She focused on Adeline. “Are you interested in him?”

  “Er, no.” Just the thought of taking on so much responsibility put her off. She wanted something simple. “I am not ready to act as a mother to almost grown children.”

  The others joined them and inspected Lord Exeter as well; then they settled down to seriously consider ladies who might suit him. When the rest of the guests started making their way to the drawing room, Adeline watched with some appreciation his skill as Lord Exeter adroitly managed to sit with Dorie during the first performance. Yet she was not nearly as pleased when Lord Littleton joined her and her friends. The next time, she would not be the last one into the row of seats.

  Yet instead of trying to engage only her in conversation, he addressed his remarks to all the ladies. “I was privileged to attend the opera in which she sang last year. It was truly amazing. Grown men were weeping.”

  “My sister said the exact same thing,” Henrietta commented. “I am looking forward to her performance.”

  Lady Brownly stood in front of the small stage, and everyone quieted as she introduced Mrs. Fodor. The music started, and she began to sing.

  By the time the piece was done, Adeline understood why the singer was so popular.

  A short time after the first song had finished and Lord Littleton had left, Dorie joined them. “Please do not leave me alone with Exeter.”

  “You will have to be first to find your chair the next time,” Henrietta said.

  They made their way to the supper room, and Adeline was surprised to see Lords Littleton and Turley, who had been in conversation with her brother and his friends, join them. She and the other ladies quickly formed a group at one end of the table, making sure that one or the other of their brothers was between them and the interlopers. Then Dorie’s mother entered the supper room, accompanied by Lord Exeter. That was interesting. Did it mean that Lady Huntingdon thought he would be a suitable match for her daughter?

  Next to her, Georgie said, “I know she does not wish to be with Lord Exeter, and I feel as if I am a disloyal friend, but I have the sense that Dorie and Lord Exeter would make a good match.”

  Adeline had wondered about that very same thing. “Why is that?”

  “My brother was talking about him, and everything he mentioned seemed to march well with what Dorie wants in a husband. I think she is afraid to trust her heart because of what happened with Lord Littleton last year.”

  Perhaps this was Adeline’s opportunity to discover more about that particular story. “I heard that he was close to offering for her, then left Town.”

  “According to what I heard, there were several problems on his estates, and he had to leave to attend to them.” Georgie frowned. “That, however, does not explain why he did not renew his attentions afterward. Although, from what I have heard about him, I do not think it would have been a good match.”

  Clearly, Adeline was not going to learn the truth until one or the other of them said something more to the point. That something had happened was clear. It was also plain that neither Georgie, Henrietta, nor Adeline had the full story. She glanced at Dorie and said a prayer that she would find her perfect gentleman. Thinking of gentlemen, she had not seen Lord Anglesey this evening. Did he not like musical evenings?

  Once supper had ended, they all went back into the drawing room to listen to Mrs. Fodor again. This time, Dorie and Adeline were the first to enter the row of chairs. She felt a little cowardly about her behavior, but avoiding Lord Littleton was the best course. She liked his conversation too much. And his dog. She could happily have spent the rest of the day with Maximus.

  * * *

  Frits leaned against the back wall, considering his conversation with Exeter about Lady Dorie when Turley joined him.

  “You don’t look as if you’re having a good time.” He propped himself up against the wall as well.

  “The music is excellent.” Frits couldn’t stop himself from glancing to where Adeline sat with her friends and not him. “The company is another matter.”

  “Am I being insulted?” His friend folded his arms across his chest.

  “Not you. I had hoped to make more progress with Lady Adeline this evening.” There was no harm in telling Turley what Exeter had said. “However, the problem of Lady Dorie might soon be resolved. Exeter is interested in marrying her. He thinks she is trying to avoid him, but he doesn’t understand the reason. He wanted to know what happened between us, and I told him.”

  “Encouraging a new romance, thus drawing her ire from you?” Turley seemed doubtful. “I am not at all certain that ladies overcome what they perceive as slights that easily.”

  That was not at all what Frits wanted to hear. “You would be much more of a help if you did not keep shooting down my ideas, or came up with some of your own.” He tried to attend to the singing, but as excellent as Mrs. Fodor was, he could not get his mind off his courting problems. At least his friend hadn’t reminded him to go slowly. “Would you like to attend the theater? My mother is making up a party.”

  Turley looked in the same direction Frits had been gazing. “Do you think she would invite Miss Featherton?”

  Frits felt a slow smile form on his face. That was the reason his friend had stopped nagging him. “I think that can be arranged.”

  “A comedy?” Turley raised a hopeful brow.

  “Indubitably. I see enough tragedies in real life.” The song ended, and everyone began to applaud, even the servants.

  “In that case, I would be delighted.” Turley heaved a sigh. “My life and that of my sister would have been so much easier if our mother hadn’t died when we were young.”

  “I don’t say it often enough, but I’m very glad I still have mine.” Especially now, when Frits was having so much trouble with Adeline. “You do know she would be more than happy to help you?”

  “At the moment, she has her hands full with you,” Turley scoffed.

  Frits couldn’t deny that. He saw Exeter speaking with Lord Huntingdon, Lady Dorie’s father, and considered including Exeter in the theater party, but he’d want Lady Dorie to be invited and that would defeat Frits’s purpose for the outing.

  “Speaking of tragedies,” Turley said, clearly still thinking about the play, “there are a number of us planning to introduce a bill to repeal the Corn Laws. I’d like you to join our group.”

  Frits would dearly like to see the law repealed. All the damn thing did was create misery for the populace who could not afford any more strife. “Send me the proposal and I’ll read it.”

  “We’re meeting tomorrow morning before the session.”

  Turley sounded so hopeful that Frits hated to disappoint him, but that was a slippery slope. Not to mention that Adeline didn’t care to be part of a political set any more than he did. “You know I do not discuss politics. If I have any ideas that would improve the bill, I shall make notations.” When his friend didn’t respond, he said, “My father always said—”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” Turley, of course, had heard it the last time he tried to cozen Frits into a political conversation. “That discussing these things leads to an inevitable loss of time with one’s family and a possible loss of friends. But the only family member present is your mother, and all of your friends are supporting this bill.”

  “My mother who”—Frits held up his finger—“has agreed to assist me in my pursuit of Lady Adeline. And, once one starts, it is hard to stop.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” Turley grumbled. “However, politics is an invigorating activity.”

  Frits knew an attempt to tempt him when he heard it. “I must fetch my mother. I shall tell her about Miss Featherton.”

  Turley pushed away from the wall. “Good luck. I still think you are going too fast.”

  “I thank you, despite your doubts. I wish you the same.” Frits did wonder what problem Turley could have with Miss Featherton. It wa
sn’t as if he was involved in any perceived misdeeds.

  * * *

  The next morning, Frits—fully aware that his mother had not mentioned anything to Adeline about him accompanying the footman—and Humphries presented themselves at Watford House. The butler answered the door. “I am sorry, my lord, but Lady Adeline did wait as long as she could.”

  It was only ten o’clock. “Can you tell me what time she left?”

  “Close to an hour ago.” The butler eyed Maximus, who was happily wagging his tail. “She will be at least another half hour, but if you would like to wait?”

  “No, thank you. We must be on our way.” Why the devil hadn’t Frits or someone asked her when she went for a walk?

  As they made their way back to the pavement, Humphries looked at him from under bushy brows and opined, “You have to get up early to catch the worm.”

  Frits sighed. “I do not think Lady Adeline would appreciate being likened to a worm.”

  “A bird?” the footman said, as if trying to guess the answer.

  “No. The bird catches the worm.”

  “There. I knew I had it right,” Humphries responded, sounding satisfied.

  The only time Frits slept in past six was when he was in Town. It was his present to himself for attending the Season. He’d have to start rising earlier. So much for scoffing at Exeter going riding early to catch Lady Dorie.

  Something or someone must be making May-games of Frits, Exeter, and Turley. None of them had ever had problems with women before, and now three young ladies were tying them in knots. Did the women even know what they were doing? Or did it come naturally?

  Now that was a frightening thought.

  Chapter Ten

  Crispin had spent a disappointing evening with Lady Sutton and left as soon as he’d been able. Unfortunately, her small dinner party had been small indeed. Only he had been invited, and the lady had expectations. Not that he wasn’t happy to comply, but he found her to be rather demanding, and that was not to his taste. He liked to be in control of his liaisons.

  He’d spent a restless night and woken early. When he was unable to go back to sleep, he decided to go for a ride. As luck would have it, Lady Adeline was strolling in the direction of Upper Brook Street with a footman following behind when he came upon her. “My lady. Good morning.”