They were silent for a while as Trent maneuvered the horses under a cluster of trees in one of the open Mayfair squares. He hopped down and walked around the curricle but didn’t help her down. Instead he stood, arms braced on either side of the opening on her side of the carriage. She’d never seen his green eyes so dark and serious, his mouth relaxed but straight without an inkling of either smile or frown. “I thought I did, for a while. Want you to go away, that is. But I’m truly coming to believe that God doesn’t make mistakes and He had something planned for our lives even though we didn’t understand”—his wide grin returned—“and so I’m going to treat you to something no other woman has ever had.”
Resisting the answering joyful grin that tugged at her lips was impossible, so she gave in to it, throwing herself into whatever experience he was so excited to share with her.
A man in plain, black clothing stepped over to the curricle. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
“Ah, yes.” Trent rubbed his hands together and bounced on his toes. “Two Hawthorne Special Concoctions, if you please.”
The man nodded and then turned to dart through the traffic and into a shop on the corner of the square. From his drawings, she recognized an elaborate pineapple on the shop sign, and that made her wonder if their outing had anything to do with Trent’s pineapple-growing aspirations, but then another plainly clothed man darted through the traffic, this time with a pink confection in one hand and a yellow one in the other. He took them to another couple in another carriage positioned much like Adelaide and Trent’s curricle was.
“We’re at Gunter’s!” Adelaide clasped her hands to her chest and met Trent’s excited gaze with her own. She’d heard of the famous confectioner, popular not only for his cakes but for his delicious ices. “I’ve never been here.”
Trent laughed. “I know. I can’t believe I haven’t brought you here before now.”
Adelaide looked at him with narrowed eyes, waiting to speak until a particularly loud wagon and a large, noisy carriage passed on the street behind them. “But what, exactly, is a Hawthorne Special Concoction?”
“The only way to eat an ice at Gunter’s, my lady.” He leaned one shoulder against the curricle, rocking the vehicle slightly as he crossed one ankle over the other and folded his arms over his chest. “James Gunter himself worked it up for me after I spent half an hour trying to decide upon a flavor one day.”
“And what did you do to deserve such special attention?” Adelaide was a bit awed that Trent had received such personalized service that he could order the confection by simply giving his name. Everyone in the aristocracy came to Gunter’s and there were plenty of people more important and powerful than Trent.
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I pay my bill on time.”
Adelaide was still laughing when their waiter ran back across the street with two of the most ridiculous-looking desserts she’d ever seen. Shaped like a pineapple, each ice was a mottled collection of at least a dozen different colors, each pineapple segment bearing a different shade. Coming out of the top was a delicate, lacy biscuit.
She held the dish in one hand and a spoon in the other without the faintest idea how to start eating such a concoction. “What is this?”
“Fifteen flavors of ambrosia and a sprinkled sugar biscuit.” He scraped a spoon across the top of the ice and slid the bite into his mouth with a sigh of contentment.
Adelaide stabbed her spoon into her own frozen treat, drawing a groan from her companion.
“No, no, don’t do it that way.” He thrust his dish toward her. “Here. Hold this.”
She stuck her spoon in her mouth and let it dangle inelegantly from her lips so that her second hand could be free to balance his ice as well as hers. The utensil was nearly a lost cause at least three times as Adelaide couldn’t stop laughing at Trent racing around the curricle to climb back up into the seat.
He took his ice back from her, his fingers feeling even warmer than usual against her chilled hand.
“This is a delicate combination of flavors and you must eat it a certain way to obtain as much enjoyment from them as possible.”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
He leaned toward her until his nose was a mere three inches from her own. Adelaide blinked, trying to bring him into focus as her spectacles caused him to blur in such close proximity. His breath was already sweetened by the few bites of dessert he’d eaten, and it washed over her like a comforting autumn wind. “I take my frivolity very seriously.”
She saluted him with her spoon. “Then, as your wife, I consider it my duty to give proper consideration to it as well.”
“Quite right.” His gaze dropped from the spoon to her lips and then back to his own confection. “Pay attention then, wife, and learn the only proper way to enjoy the best that Gunter’s has to offer.”
Trent was certain that one day he’d be able to look at his wife all dressed up for an evening out and not lose his breath. One day his heart wouldn’t forget its job for a moment and would maintain a steady rhythm in her presence. One day. But today was not that day. Especially not after sharing his treasured ice combination with her that afternoon. She’d applied herself with gusto, diligently copying every movement he made with his spoon until he began making some up. He’d discovered that, while swooping up a dollop of lemon and chocolate in the same bite was positively blissful, the lemon and the rose should never be mixed.
She’d coughed through that combination with a smile on her face, though, and once she’d regained her composure, waited patiently with spoon poised for his next instruction. The memory of her anticipatory grin had him smiling even now. At that moment she’d been the most riveting woman he’d ever seen, and he was baffled as to why. Why she’d pulled at him so much then—and even more so as he stood in the hall watching the top of the stairs.
It wasn’t that she was exceptionally beautiful, though he supposed he saw her as such now. If he had seen her for the first time in a crowded ballroom, he would certainly have noticed her unusual looks, but she wouldn’t have called to him like she did now. There was something about the knowledge that she was his, that he had the permission of God and man to look at her with appreciation, to hold her in his arms and kiss her each evening when he brought her home.
The fact that he was the only person who ever saw her this way left him feeling protective, special. By the time they reached their destination, a slipper would be smudged or a jewel knocked askew. He hadn’t quite figured out how she managed it when she always came down the stairs looking like utter perfection, but it never lasted beyond the carriage. He wondered sometimes if she even knew when she became disheveled. It didn’t stop her from doing anything.
As was becoming common, he saw the hem of her dress first as she descended the stairs. Gold satin slippers peeped out from beneath the white-and-gold gown. This one, too, was cut like a belted vest, with pearls lining the white dress beneath as well as the gold satin overdress and belt. The rest of her emerged as she slowly descended the steps, giving Trent time to admire her grace and form. Even when he moved back into the house, he was going to make a habit of waiting for her in the front hall. Watching her come down the steps was turning into one of his favorite moments of the day.
Until her face appeared.
Instead of her normal shy, welcoming smile, she wore an anxious frown. Obviously something about this evening’s plans didn’t thrill her.
“We don’t have to go.” Trent rushed forward to meet her at the bottom of the steps, taking her hands in his.
She clasped his fingers tightly enough to cause wrinkles in her white gloves. “Your mother—”
“Isn’t here.” Trent lifted a hand to Adelaide’s cheek. Whatever had caused the apprehensive look in her eyes, Trent wanted to vanquish it. If the world beyond the front door was causing her grief, he was more than happy to turn her around and escort her back up the stairs until it no longer bothered her. Anything to bring back the happ
y woman who’d gone to Gunter’s with him that afternoon.
How could he care this much about someone he hardly knew, someone he hadn’t bonded with, couldn’t tell what she was thinking with a single look? Every married couple he knew that was also in love had that. Georgina once said she heard her husband, Colin, in her head even when he wasn’t there. His relationship with Adelaide didn’t look anything like what Trent knew love to be, so why did it bother him so much that she wasn’t happy? “Please tell me what’s wrong.”
“We should go.” She tilted her head into his hand with a soft, sad smile. “Everyone is expecting us.”
Trent bent his knees and ducked his head to look Adelaide in the eyes. They were still large, still a pure, clear blue, still framed by thick black lashes, but something was wrong. “Where are your spectacles?”
She held up her oversized reticule. “In here. Mother’s going to be there tonight, and she fusses when I wear them to balls.”
Trent frowned and wanted to hit something. All the work he’d done over the past few weeks—getting her to smile and talk and laugh with his friends and family—and her mother had broken it with the mere promise of her presence. He kept his touch gentle as he pulled the reticule from her wrist.
His mother would swat him with her fan if she saw him opening a woman’s reticule, but this was his wife, and these were extenuating circumstances.
The slim novel tucked in the bag made him smile as he dug around for her spectacles. He found them wrapped in a soft cloth and tucked into her spare pair of slippers. Georgina must have taught her that trick when she’d been here two days ago. After unwrapping the frames, he slid them carefully onto Adelaide’s face. He shifted his hands until his palms cupped her cheeks, his thumbs grazing right below the spectacle frames. As her eyes drifted shut he leaned down and brushed a light kiss across her lips. “Mother or no mother, I want you to be able to see when I dance with you.”
As she blinked up at him, her eyes adjusting to the lenses once more, he vowed that no matter what her life had been before, he was going to make her future one better. Starting tonight.
Chapter 24
As had become his habit when they entered a venue where dancing was available, Trent pulled Adelaide to the dance floor immediately. He always seemed to time it so that they walked into a waltz. Whether or not he was that knowledgeable of song order at balls or he actually arranged it with the different hostesses and orchestras, Adelaide didn’t know. And she didn’t care. She simply enjoyed starting the evening wrapped in her husband’s arms.
He smiled down at her, almost making her forget that she had another night of uncomfortable interactions ahead of her. One day, God willing, these social functions wouldn’t make her want to run screaming into the night. The number of people crowding the ballroom meant that the ton had arrived in London full force, and there was sure to be someone more interesting than her for the masses to focus on very soon.
Unless her mother did something to change that.
The pressure of Trent’s arm at her back pulled her back to the present. The warmth of his hand through her glove reassured her. She enjoyed dancing with Trent.
She knew he was a superb athlete, spending a great deal of his time at athletic clubs, boxing, fencing, or even playing cricket. He’d mentioned once that he liked rowing, as well, but hadn’t had much chance to do it since school. The Thames was a bit too crowded for a rowing team in London. All of those athletic pursuits made him strong and graceful and he led her around the floor with confidence.
Secure that he would lead her the way she needed to go, she let her mind drift. They’d had fun the past few days. Their outings had seemed less like obligations and more like excursions. They’d had such fun eating their ices that they’d been unable to contain their laughter, and more than one person crossed the square to chat with them. Well, him, mostly. Everyone had been very polite to her, but it was becoming obvious that nearly the entire aristocracy loved Trent.
Did she love him too? What did that mean? Love. Years ago, an aunt assured Adelaide her mother loved her, but if that was love, what was this she felt with Trent? Was it love that she hoped one day very soon he’d stop leaving her at the foot of the stairs in the evening? Was it love that she looked forward to seeing him smile and scoured the obscure texts in the library looking for strange facts to make him laugh, that she was spending each morning with Mrs. Harris learning to cook a perfect rasher of bacon? Was it love that she couldn’t move forward with the drawing room because she so desperately wanted him to like it?
Did he like the green that was currently in the room? Did he want it designed for large gatherings or merely intimate visits? Those things seemed like something someone in love would know. Wouldn’t they? Could it be love if she didn’t know his preferences?
All too soon the song was ending and Trent was bowing. Adelaide dropped into a hasty curtsy before laying her hand on his arm to be escorted from the floor.
As soon as they cleared the dance floor, her mother appeared from seemingly nowhere. “You two simply look divine together. Fate is certainly kind, isn’t she?”
Adelaide’s tongue felt thick and swollen. What was the proper response to something like that? Stating that fate was considerably kinder than her own mother didn’t seem like the correct response. If for no other reason that Trent was unaware of the fact that fate had next to nothing to do with their marriage, and they could have been rescued.
“You look lovely tonight, Mother.” When in doubt, compliment—at least when it came to her mother. Acknowledging her superior taste in fashion always put the countess in a good mood.
“Have you met Mrs. Seyton yet, darling?” Mother fluttered her fan lightly as she sidled up to Adelaide’s free arm and looped her own through it.
“I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure,” Adelaide mumbled. How ridiculous she must look with her husband on one arm and her mother on the other. As if they were about to begin a strange country reel.
Mother tugged lightly at Adelaide’s arm. “You simply must meet her. She has the most splendid little house in Brighton. They don’t use it much, so she’s always willing to let me stay there when I need to visit the coast. Sea-bathing is very beneficial for the constitution, you know.”
“I would love to meet Mrs. Seyton, Mother.” To be honest, she was just grateful that her mother wished to introduce her to another woman instead of making more suggestions about which men she could use to make her husband jealous. She pulled her arm from Trent’s. If meeting Mrs. Seyton would placate her mother, she’d be more than happy to get it over with.
“Yes. Well, perhaps I can introduce you later.”
Adelaide’s mouth dropped open a bit as her mother faded into the surrounding crowd.
“I see you made it,” a male voice sounded from behind her. “We had to take a very circuitous route to avoid the mess on Bruton Street. It was a wagon full of lumber, so there’s fortunately no loss, but it’s taking them a dreadfully long time to clean it up.”
Adelaide turned to find Lord and Lady Raebourne smiling at them. Was that why her mother had left? “You’re my new favorite people.”
The stunned silence was the first indication that the words had actually come out of her mouth instead of staying safely locked in her head.
Trent looked from her to Lady Raebourne and then out over the crowd before he tilted his head and smiled at the marchioness. “You might be mine as well. Anthony, we’d be more than happy to visit with your wife for a while if you have anyone you need to speak with. Or punch you need to fetch.”
The other couple looked from Trent to Adelaide with equally confused expressions.
Lord Raebourne scratched behind his ear. “I was going to speak to—”
“Wonderful!” Trent rocked back on his heels. “You take care of that while we stay with your wife.”
Lady Raebourne hooked her arm securely into her husband’s. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
&
nbsp; Trent laughed. “Nothing nefarious, I assure you. Simply trying to help Adelaide become more comfortable with a few people in Town. She had to leave all her friends behind in the country, you know.”
Lady Raebourne’s expression turned more than a little skeptical. Adelaide was fairly certain hers had as well. Trent hadn’t shown the least interest in her personal friendships since they’d gotten married and now he wanted to encourage her friendship with the one person they’d come across that her mother was afraid of? It wasn’t very subtle of him. Sweet, but not subtle.
After staring at Trent for a few tense moments, Lady Raebourne released her husband’s arm. “If you wish.”
“Oh, I wish.” Trent’s actions didn’t match his words as he was once more looking around the room. Finally he found what he was looking for, but they didn’t set off across the room again. Instead he simply smiled.
With another questioning look in Trent’s direction, Lord Raebourne slipped off to take care of his business, leaving the three remaining people to stand around staring at each other. As much as Adelaide enjoyed the fact that Lady Raebourne’s presence kept the countess away, they couldn’t stand like this all evening.
Trent apparently had other plans. “How is the redecorating going?”
“Hmm. Slowly. I’m having trouble selecting the right fabric.” Lady Raebourne cut her eyes in Adelaide’s direction, making her want to squirm. “Anthony won’t tell me what he wants.”
Trent tried to hold back a laugh, but it sputtered out anyway. “Anthony doesn’t care what your parlor looks like.”
Lady Raebourne sighed. “I know. But I still want him to like it.”
“Then put furniture he’s not afraid to sit on in there. As long as it’s comfortable and you’re happy he won’t care what it looks like.”
Adelaide blinked, looking from Lady Raebourne to Trent and back again. How was it that all of these women were more clever with words than she would ever be? She struggled just to say what she meant, never mind layering it into a conversation in such a way that it either portrayed an unsaid second meaning or unearthed answers no one was willing to ask for. With a silent thank-you to Lady Raebourne, Adelaide began thinking through the furniture she’d seen in some of the galleries, mentally discarding anything with spindle legs or delicately carved backs.
An Uncommon Courtship Page 21