The Most Eligible Lord in London

by Ella Quinn

  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.

  “Nothing.” He turned his attention to her. “Something caught my eye and I was attempting to discover what it was that appeared odd.”

  “As far as I am concerned, there are a great many things that are odd.” Her disgusted tone made him smile.

  “Indeed.” He led her into a twirl.

  “What do you think of Lord Belmont for Miss Hanson?” Rotating around, he glanced in the direction Adeline was looking. “He seems to meet her requirements.”

  “He’s not as rich as Croesus, but he is wealthy enough.” His family was good. He was well liked, and women thought he was handsome.

  “And she seems to be enjoying his company.” Adeline glanced at Frits. “I think she stood up with him because she wished to and not because she had to.”

  She was correct. The smile on the lady’s face was not merely polite. “What an astute observation.”

  “That might mean we just have to worry about Miss Tice.” That lady was dancing with Lord Bottomley, and her smile was definitely not one of joy.

  “Will you bring the other gentleman with you tomorrow?” Adeline’s thoughtful look was on her face.

  Frits was not at all certain he could easily convince Fitzwalter to come. It might take drastic measures. Still, even if the lady was not as beautiful as Adeline, Miss Tice was pretty. He wondered why she had not taken better; then he remembered that she was only interested in gentlemen who lived near her friend’s potential new home. “If I have to tie him up and cart him there.”

  Adeline’s laugh was like the tinkling of small bells, and it warmed his heart and other parts of his body as well. He caught sight of Anglesey and the lady again, and Frits realized what it was he saw. If they weren’t having an affair, he was still a green lad. It was all there: the lips close to an ear, the man’s slow perusal of the lady’s bosom, and the way Lady Holloway dropped her gaze. He knew if he followed either of them after the ball, he’d find them together. And to think the curst rum touch had the gall to keep bothering Adeline when he had a lover.

  “What are you looking at?” Adeline appeared perplexed.

  “I solved what had puzzled me earlier, and it is nothing.” Nothing he’d tell her, in any event.

  “That is good.” She grinned. “It has occurred to me that if Miss Hanson has found her match, and Miss Tice can be as easily dealt with, you will not have to remain with me at balls and other entertainments.”

  Frits just kept his jaw from dropping to the floor. Devil it! He’d not even considered the consequences of having no lady attempting to trap him. Of course, Adeline thought he was staying with her because of the threats to himself. What was he to do when he didn’t have the excuse?

  “Er, I suppose so.” He damned sure wasn’t going to agree with her. “I do like your company.”

  A polite mask dropped over her mien. “I wonder if they will have lobster patties this evening.”

  Hell and perdition.

  He was going to have to think of something soon. “If they do, I will ensure you have several.”

  The edges of her lips wanted to tip up. They were trembling, and he silently cheered them on. But they lost the battle. “Thank you.”

  Frits turned his mind to supper. If Lady Dorie was with Fotheringale, she would not be helping Adeline avoid him. He’d have to be sure to secure his chair before going to get their food. Frits was tired of being relegated to the other end of the table. He’d had too much fun talking with her and her family the other night. The set ended, and he slowly escorted
her back to her brother and sister-in-law, all the while thinking of ways to achieve his immediate goal.

  When they reached her family, her sister-in-law took Adeline aside. What was that about?

  A moment later, a broad smile appeared on her face, and she came back to him. “I have been told that Gunter’s has supplied the ices for this evening.”

  Frits’s lips curled up as well. “Would you like one of each flavor?”

  “Do you think I could?” Her expression was almost childlike in its wonder. Then her eyes dimmed a bit. “Without appearing to be too greedy?”

  “If we share them, no one will think you are gluttonous. They will think I am.”

  “We do not need to taste the ices we already have.” Ah, she was becoming interested in how to do this and not garner attention.

  “Indeed. I shall only choose the ones you have not sampled.”

  Her eyes were shining again. “Yes. That will work.”

  All he had to do was try to sit as far away from Lady Dorie and Fotheringale as possible. Just then, his mother, Lady Watford, and Lady Huntingdon joined the group. “I thought my mother was at a dinner this evening.”

  “I thought mine was as well.” Adeline’s fine brows drew together. “I wonder what they are doing here.”

  His mother and Lady Watford began talking with Lord and Lady Wivenly, while Lady Watford joined her son, his wife, Lady Dorie, and Fotheringale. Shortly thereafter, they headed toward the supper room.

  It was only once they were well away that Mama said, “We should go down now.”

  Something was going on. But as long as it kept Frits with Adeline, he didn’t care what the ladies were up to.

  His mother gave him a knowing look and indicated that they should take a table across the room from where Lady Dorie was sitting.

  He quickly complied. “Will this one do?”

  “Yes, indeed, my dear. An excellent choice.” Mama turned to Adeline. “I hear you have taken to Maximus, and he to you.”

  “Yes. He is a handsome boy.” Frits pulled out a chair, and she gracefully lowered herself onto it. “I very much enjoyed walking him this morning.”

  Wivenly came up to Frits. “Shall we? I wish to make sure we have our choice of the ices. My wife is fond of them.”

  He wanted to say Adeline was as well, but as far as he knew, their visits to Gunter’s were between them.

  As they strolled to the long table where the delicacies where laid out, he caught more than one lady looking at him in a calculating way. Perhaps he’d found the answer to his problem. Adeline didn’t have to be the only one who overheard plans to compromise him.

  Chapter Twenty

  The next afternoon, Cristabel poured tea for Annis Watford and Sally Huntingdon. The three of them were in Cristabel’s parlor, and she had left instructions that unless the house was burning down or someone was seriously injured, they were not to be disturbed.

  She handed her friends their cups. “We must take a hand in our children’s affairs.”

  “I have a plan to turn Dorie from Fotheringale.” Sally’s satisfied expression made Cristabel focus her attention. “I have arranged it so that Naomi Fotheringale had to invite us to dinner.”

  Annis’s eyes widened slightly. “I am impressed. Not that I would want to dine with her.”

  “Well, who does?” Sally said. “The whole point is to make my daughter realize how unsuitable a match her son would be.”

  “Speaking of matches for Dorie”—Cristabel decided to approach the problem directly—“I understand she is still angry with Frederick.”

  “That would have been a disastrous match.” Sally pressed her lips together. “But you have to admit he did not handle it well. And I do not blame her for being furious about his behavior, and for being hurt.”

  “I agree. He should have at least told her he was leaving Town. I do not fault her at all. The onus is completely on him.” As Cristabel had told him in no uncertain terms. “However, Frederick must marry. Both Annis and I believe Adeline is the perfect wife for him. We are doing everything we can to promote the match. The problem is that Dorie has warned Adeline against him, and that is presenting a problem.”

  Annis nodded. “The girls have become such good friends that Adeline feels guilty for enjoying his company. And she will not come to know him better until she feels as if she is not betraying her friend.” She glanced at the ceiling and sighed. “Although first he must convince her that he is not a rake.”

  “Frederick is not a rake!” Two pairs of eyes under raised brows stared at Cristabel. “Well, not any more than Wivenly or Huntley were.”

  “But they are now married,” Sally pointed out.

  “Only after they left England.” Really, that term was thrown about too frequently these days. When Cristabel was young, a gentleman was meant to gain experience. “Before that, they did the same things Frederick has done.”

  “But he has the reputation because he only associated with widows and women of questionable virtue,” Annis objected.

  “As did Wivenly.” Cristabel sniffed. “One cannot blame a gentleman if he takes advantage of invitations by widows and unhappy wives.” She speared the other ladies with a hard look. “I did not hear you complaining about your sons’ behavior.”

  “I suppose you are correct.” Annis grimaced. “Wivenly was most likely worse. I have a feeling from things that have been said that he did not initially act as he should have with Eugénie.” She smiled happily. “But all is well now. I must feel differently because I have Adeline to worry about this Season.”

  “I hate to say it, my dear, but Frederick is too handsome,” Sally said. “He looks like what every lady imagines her prince will.” She gazed down at her tea. “I firmly believe that is the reason Dorie thought she was in love with him.” Shaking her head disgustedly, she continued, “That, and everyone said what a beautiful couple they made. Enough of those types of comments and even someone like Dorie can have her head turned.”

  “Well,” Cristabel used her driest tone, “there is nothing I can do about that. He looks just like his grandfather Littleton.”

  Annis held out her cup for more tea. “The question is, what will it take for Dorie to relent?”

  Based on what Annis had told Cristabel, Adeline was loyal to her friends. “I would like to know that as well. He is trying to think of ways to make her want to marry him, and you know the sorts of ideas young men consider excellent.”

  The other two ladies rolled their eyes.

  “Only too well,” Annis remarked.

  Sally held out her cup as well. “I would love to be able to tell you that I shall instruct Dorie to tell Adeline that Frederick is a good man, but telling her to do anything has always been fraught with problems. What I can do is to start planting seeds. Some of them will be about how ill-suited she and Frederick were, others about how it is not fair to keep a friend from the gentleman for whom she is suited.”

  “Yes.” Annis nodded. “She must see the whole affair as a lucky escape for her.”

  “And not as her being wronged,” Cristabel added.

  “Those are both important points.” Sally took a sip. “Now, do we know of any specific thing he thinks is extremely important that Adeline likes as well?”

  “Pigs,” Annis and Cristabel said at the same time, then glanced at each other and laughed.

  “They discuss farm animals?” Sally looked aghast.

  “According to Wivenly,” Annis said, “Frederick and Adeline were laughing so hard over them, she had to be taken outside to calm down.”

  A sly smile formed on Sally’s lips. “I can guarantee you that Dorie would not understand what could be humorous about pigs.”

  “I daresay not many of us could.” But that was exactly the type of thing that made Adeline perfect for Frits.

  * * *

  The previous evening, Frits had accompanied his mother, Adeline, and her mother to the theater. The play was amusing, and they all enjoyed i
t, but, as far as he could see, it had not helped him get closer to her at all.

  He’d spent most of today hunting down Fitzwalter, only to discover he had begun much too early. By the time Frits finally thought to try the man’s rooms, it was almost three in the afternoon.

  Using his cane, he rapped on the door and waited. As he was about to knock again, it was opened by a servant he could only assume was a valet. He handed the servant his card. “I wish to see Fitzwalter.”

  “I am terribly sorry, my lord, but he has not yet left his bedchamber.”

  That scobberlotcher. Frits was ready to ring the idler’s neck for all the trouble he had caused him. One way or the other, Fitzwalter would shortly be awakened. “In that case, it is high time he was up. Make some tea or coffee—”

  The valet cleared his throat. “My lord, he drinks ale in the morning.”

  “Not this morning he won’t. Bring coffee, and make it strong.” That should get the man going. “And bring whatever remedy you have for pot verdugo as well as food.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The valet hurried off to wherever the kitchen was.

  He stepped inside the small hall with a fireplace, and immediately found the parlor, off of which lay the bedroom. The rooms were not much different from the ones he’d had at the Albany. He slammed open the door to the bedroom, and it bounced against the wall with a satisfying crash.

  “What the bloody devil is going on?” Fitzwalter poked his head out from between the bed hangings.

  “Good morning.” Frits used a cheerful tone, but practically shouted the words, as if he was speaking to his great-great aunt, who was deaf. The noise made the other man wince. “Or, I should say, good afternoon.”

  “Littleton.” Fitzwalter groaned as he fell back behind the hangings. “What the devil are you doing here?”

  Knowing it was a sunny day, Frits opened the curtains before opening the bed hangings. “Bringing you back to the land of the living. I require help, and you are the only one in Town who can assist me.”

  Fitzwalter slammed a pillow over his head. “If you want my help, you should be kinder. I’ve a devil of a head.”