“Do you have everything you need?” It was the closest he was going to be able to come to asking her what was in the bag. One day though, he promised himself, one day he’d be in a position to know because he’d see her pack it. He’d never dare ask a woman he wasn’t related to what was in her reticule, so he couldn’t ask Adelaide. Not if he were going to commit to actually courting her as he should. He had to treat her as if they weren’t married. Two days ago he’d have thought that the easiest thing in the world. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Chapter 14
On her fifth birthday Adelaide got a pony. Her baby brother wasn’t old enough to ride the estate with their father yet, but she was, and he took her out riding to every corner of land he owned. She’d felt so important on that pony, one step below the queen herself. For the rest of her life she’d wished she could feel that way again.
Tonight she did.
Entering the ballroom on Trent’s arm and hearing the bailiff cry out “Lord and Lady Trent Hawthorne” had given her an even bigger thrill. She’d felt as if she could rule this ballroom, that there was no one in the crush who could touch her. She knew the feeling wouldn’t last, not with her mother and dozens of other women like her in attendance, but for the moment none of those women meant a thing because Trent had walked her straight onto the dance floor as the first notes of a waltz drifted through the room.
She thought she’d be nervous about her first dance. How many times had she thought about making her first bow in a London ballroom? She’d begun to think her mother never intended to give her a chance, and she certainly hadn’t expected to do it as her dance partner’s wife.
Never in all her imaginings had so many eyes been trained her direction, though. But it didn’t seem to matter. The rustle of silk and satin that filled the floor around them faded into the background as Adelaide felt the heavy weight of Trent’s arm curl around her waist. Her gaze fixed on his cravat, the strong jawline above it edging into her field of vision.
It felt different, dancing with Trent. Bernard was still a young boy—his dancing skills reflected as such—and the few times she’d taken lessons with Helena, Adelaide had been placed into the man’s position. There was something comforting about Trent’s steady guidance across the floor. It felt like a promise of support as she faced the women of London for the first time. It was fanciful thinking, of course, because he was likely to disappear once this first set had completed. For the moment, though, she would allow herself to believe it and enjoy the blissful sensation of dancing, trusting Trent not to twirl them into any of the other dancers.
The dance set ended before she was ready. Not that she would ever be ready. Leaving the dance floor meant facing the elite of London from an approachable place. A church pew and a moving curricle were rather protected locations, but at a ball, she was utterly exposed. Helena had told her what a cruel lot they were, lying to each other until no one knew what truth was anymore. Having spent enough time sorting Helena’s lies from her truths led Adelaide to believe the other women weren’t the entire problem. Still, it didn’t take much to believe that aristocratic women were a difficult bunch to impress. Her mother certainly was. They couldn’t all be like that though, could they?
Trent escorted her to the side of the floor, stumbling to a halt at the edge of the dancing area. He glanced around and then back down at her before pulling her into the edge of the gathering people. After looking around once more, he slid her hand from his elbow and ran one hand across the back of his neck. What could possibly be wrong? Was he trying to find a way to tell her he was going to wherever the men went when they didn’t want to dance? She didn’t mind, honestly. It wasn’t as if she expected him to remain in her company all evening. Her mother was going to be there, after all, even if Adelaide wasn’t quite ready to see her.
And that, of course, was part of his issue. If Trent had truly been courting Adelaide he’d have taken her to her mother at the conclusion of the dance, but her mother was nowhere to be seen. A rather mixed blessing at that moment, but one that left them with an awkward situation. What did they do now? Did they simply part ways and go about their own business for the rest of the evening? Stand together until they came across someone they both wanted to talk to? Would he introduce her around until she knew enough people for him to leave her to her own devices?
The awkwardness shifted into a burning sensation that ran from her middle to her chest as other attendees took the question of what to do next out of their hands. People swarmed to their side and Trent began introducing them as quickly as politeness would allow. Adelaide smiled and nodded at all of them, keeping her gaze firmly on everyone’s chin so they would hopefully miss the heat crawling up her neck and the aching tension creeping across her shoulders. The introductions began blending together, and she knew she’d never remember everyone’s name.
No one seemed to care, though. In fact, the conversations were easier than she would have dreamed if she’d ever dreamed of conversing with this many people in a single night. Years of practice at saying whatever her mother and father expected her to say gave her a natural ability to allow the other person to lead the conversation. Sometimes she had no idea what or whom they were talking about, but her noncommittal answers seemed to please most people, and they moved on from the encounter with a satisfied nod or even a smile.
And thus went the next hour of her evening. It wasn’t unpleasant. If she hadn’t felt like such a charlatan she might have even enjoyed it. But every time Trent appeared at her side with a cup of lemonade or simply to share in the conversation, women around her would enthuse over her luck and fortune. While some seemed envious of her new position, most simply wanted to gossip on her newly married life. When she wasn’t forthcoming enough, they began to speculate. She let them. She wasn’t about to share the truth of her situation or how the marriage came about. It was reasonable for people to assume they’d had a quiet romance in the country, so she felt no need to contradict them.
In her experience, people would believe whatever they wished to anyway.
“Married life seems to suit you well, Adelaide.” Mother approached and hooked her arm with Adelaide’s during a rare lull in the attentions.
Adelaide murmured something between a yes and a groan because she wasn’t really sure how to answer that statement. Nothing good ever came from being the solitary focus of her mother’s attention. It inevitably ended with Mother lamenting the fact that Adelaide wasn’t Helena and Adelaide wishing her parents’ second child hadn’t been born to wear skirts.
Mother pulled Adelaide along as they started a slow walk along the edge of the ballroom. “Now that you’ve settled in so well, you should have Helena around for dinner. With her husband, of course. Did you know that Lord Edgewick has been trying to get an introduction into Alverly’s fencing club?”
Adelaide let her sigh puff her cheeks out before silently sliding out between her teeth. Even now it was about what Helena needed, what leant her the most social advantage. Perhaps Adelaide should be thanking God for her unconventional marriage instead of sending questioning glances to the sky. Who knew how Mother would have tried to manipulate Adelaide’s potential suitors if she’d come for her Season as planned.
“He’s been trying for a sponsorship to White’s, you know,” the countess continued. “But Boodle’s would be nearly as good. His current club has no influential connections to speak of.”
Adelaide sighed, knowing she had to crush her mother’s dreams before they grew to unfathomable proportions. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help him with those.”
Mother laughed.
Adelaide winced. Had her mother’s laugh always been so grating and false? Or was this something she saved for London because she thought it made her look more sophisticated?
“Dear Adelaide, you’ve only to mention it to your husband a time or two. It’s obvious he dotes on you. I knew he would. The family is notoriously obnoxious about their marriages.”
Perh
aps because they notoriously married for love, which Trent had not been able to do. No wonder he didn’t want to live under the same roof as her. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mother. Lord Trent feels nothing but obligation for me. We aren’t even living in the same house anymore.”
Mother froze, the flattering, false smile dropping from her face. “What?”
Adelaide shifted her weight from foot to foot. She should not have brought this up in public, despite the fact that it felt like an enormous relief to finally admit the problem to someone. Her voice dropped to a whisper in the attempt to keep her secret. “He’s staying at Hawthorne House.”
“Useless,” her mother hissed.
“I beg your pardon?” Adelaide’s eyebrows drew together as she leaned forward to better hear her mother’s quiet words.
“You. You are useless. All you had to do was keep him happy and then you could have helped Helena rise to her rightful place in society.” Mother dropped her arm from Adelaide’s elbow and smoothed her skirts. “I should have known this wouldn’t work out when you merely managed to catch the younger son. The duke would have been so much better. I blame myself. I should have looked over the wall to make sure it was the duke, not simply assumed you’d gotten it right.”
Adelaide blinked at her mother, trying to bring the words into focus, but it didn’t work. Mother had never been complimentary, but useless was a good bit harsher than her normal declarations. “I . . . didn’t . . . I mean . . . what?”
Mother looked around the room and pasted her smile back on her face. “We can fix this. Come along.”
Adelaide trailed after her mother, trying not to trip over the hem of her gown. “What are we doing?”
“Jealousy, my dear. It’s time you learned how to use it. A smile here, a little flirting there. Nothing grabs a man’s attention faster.” Mother’s sharp blue eyes cut through the crowd. What was she looking for? Who was she looking for?
The implications of her mother’s plan finally formulated in Adelaide’s confused brain. Obviously her mother had gone mad, because the last thing Adelaide wanted to do was flirt with a man who wasn’t her husband. There were so many reasons to avoid doing such a thing—not the least of which was the fact that Adelaide hadn’t the foggiest notion how to flirt. If she did she’d have certainly been using her skills on Trent and not some other man of her mother’s choosing. “Mother, this won’t work.”
Mother rolled her eyes. “Of course it will, darling. How do you think I got that new diamond necklace last year? A solid month of dancing with the Viscount of Strenwhite at every possible function. Believe me. This is the fastest way into a man’s attentions.”
A month didn’t seem very fast, but what did Adelaide know about marriage? Perhaps a month was a veritable blink in marital relations.
And then the introductions began. Adelaide had already been afraid of forgetting the women she’d met tonight, but now she was being inundated with men as well. Most of the gentlemen were polite, even as they sent puzzled looks her way when her mother tried to rather obviously manipulate them into asking her daughter to dance. Did married women dance at these gatherings? Adelaide had rather thought the dancing was mostly for the unmarried young ladies—a classification she was feeling an increasingly urgent need to remind her mother she did not possess any longer.
Her mother finally achieved her goal, and as Adelaide danced with a man named Mr. Givendale, she tried to come to grips with this new look at her mother. She’d always known there wasn’t an abundance of affection between her parents, but she’d assumed that was the fault of both parties. What if it wasn’t? What if her father had simply grown tired of her mother’s scheming and trickery? Her need to constantly push for more? It didn’t make any sense, really. The woman was a countess. She outranked over three quarters of the ladies in the room, and still she worried, still it wasn’t enough. Of course, Helena was only a viscountess and hadn’t been invited to tonight’s ball. And it was always about Helena.
“Are you enjoying living in Town?” Mr. Givendale asked.
Adelaide tried to bring her thoughts back to the dance at hand. No matter how uncomfortable she was with her mother’s maneuverings, there was no cause to be rude to a man who had asked her to dance. The dancing was something she’d been particularly looking forward to before she’d gotten married.
“Town is lovely,” Adelaide answered. And it was. The beauty of London, despite the smog and crowdedness, was about the only positive thing she could say about her current living arrangements.
“You make it lovelier.”
A flush burned up Adelaide’s neck to her ears as she turned to follow the dance pattern. She might not know how to flirt but it seemed at least some of the gentlemen could more than make up for her lack of competency. What was she supposed to say to that? Should she say anything? Nearly half a minute had passed before they were shoulder to shoulder once more.
“Have you been to the opera yet? I’ve a box there you’re welcome to use any time.” He paused as another couple passed between them. “Your husband too, of course.”
Adelaide didn’t have to feign her sudden difficulty breathing. As much as she craved the oxygen she was suddenly deprived of, she was more than grateful for the excuse to leave the dance floor. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Givendale, but I don’t think I’m feeling quite up to finishing the set.”
“Of course.”
He pulled them from the formation and escorted her to the side of the dance floor, where she immediately dropped his arm and kept walking. With every step she took her chest seemed to loosen until she could finally breathe properly again. Was this what Trent had wanted for her? He’d said he wanted to give her the experience of the Season she’d missed out on, but it didn’t seem right to include any other men in that experience. Now she just had to convince her mother of that.
“Whatever did you do that for?”
Mother appeared at Adelaide’s elbow, but Adelaide didn’t stop. She kept going, even as her mother began yet another tirade on Adelaide’s inability to see a plan through properly. As they rounded a large pillar at the side of the ballroom, Adelaide collided with an older man coming from the other direction.
“Oh, pardon me!” Adelaide took a quick step back, almost tripping over the velvet train of her ball gown. The dress was gorgeous, but maneuvering in it was proving exceptionally difficult. Trent had shown her how to hold the trailing skirt when she was dancing, and as long as she moved forward while walking she did all right, but backward was a tricky endeavor. The older man reached for her hand, giving her support until she was steady on her feet.
“All right, then?”
She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
The man was obviously important. Some men just held themselves with power. Given that his clothing was also very fine, she assumed him to be an important personage indeed. She waited for her mother to introduce them.
A glance to her side showed that her mother had disappeared. She twisted her head, looking for the dark orange of her dress, but the vicinity was full of pastels and whites with the occasional deep purple or blue.
She turned back to the old man and gave him a small smile before moving to walk past him. Without an introduction she could do no more, but she was burning to know who he was. Whoever he was, her mother wanted nothing to do with him. Which might make him one of her favorite people in London.
Lady Crampton wasn’t to be avoided for long, however. Once Adelaide was out of sight of the old man, her mother reappeared at her elbow seemingly out of nowhere.
She turned her head to see if the old man was still visible, but he’d gone on his way and was nowhere to be found. Trent’s brother, however, also occupied the fringes of the crowd on this side of the ballroom, and he stepped forward with a frown of concern that made Adelaide worry that her panic was starting to show on her face. The entire evening had been a series of questions that left her second-guessing her every move.
“Would you care
to dance?” The duke took Adelaide’s hand and bowed over their connected fingers.
“Of . . . of course.”
Adelaide had a feeling the man didn’t really want to dance. If the speculative glances in his direction were any indication, he didn’t do it all that frequently. She soon understood why. Even though he showed a greater than average amount of grace, he took up a considerably larger than average amount of space on the dance floor, leaving him bumping shoulders with the other people in the quadrille formation.
“What am I to call you?” Adelaide asked as they linked elbows and circled another couple.
“The family calls me Griffith. You are welcome to do the same. Or Riverton, if that is more comfortable for you.” He angled his shoulder to avoid another couple.
Adelaide noticed they were garnering more than a few whispers and stares as they went through the dance.
“They are trying to verify with each other that you are indeed Trent’s new wife,” Griffith murmured in her ear.
Adelaide looked up at him to see if he too was noticing the many people paying attention to him, but his gaze seemed to rest solely on her. It was unnerving. His eyes were nearly identical to Trent’s in color, and his features were similar enough to declare them related at a glance, but Griffith’s gaze held solidity, a strength that Trent’s lacked. The marked power of duke versus the comfort of the second son had never been so evident to her, and she found herself thankful that Trent had come to the ruins that day instead of Griffith.
“How do they know?” she whispered back.
“I’m dancing with you.” Griffith took her arm and led her down the line, having to fold nearly in half to go under the raised arms of the other couples.
“Do you usually avoid dancing, then?” Adelaide asked as they came to the end of the line and added their arms to the tunnel of dancers.
An Uncommon Courtship Page 12