She took another sip of wine. “I do not know how you can be so calm.”
“I have found that allowing myself to be overwrought doesn’t do anyone any good, particularly me.”
As Frits had wanted her to do, Adeline smiled.
Before their dance, he could see that she was becoming more and more agitated. He didn’t think anyone else noticed, but he was coming to know her, and not much upset her calm good nature.
Except him, of course.
He hoped that was because she was starting to like him and did not want to because of what he’d done last Season. But then there was Anglesey, and she was smiling much too much when she was with the man.
“Tell me what exactly happened,” he prompted.
He drank in the sight of her, the way her brow puckered. The way her slender throat moved with the motion of swallowing. He wished he could press his lips to her throat and feel her pulse. He wanted to see what color her nipples were as he—
This had to stop.
The next thing he knew, he’d be throwing her over his shoulder and striding out with her. Frits was sure one of his ancestors had done just that. He also remembered that his forefather had received a black eye from the lady for his presumption. It had still been bruised when they wed. Or so the story went. Whichever great-grandsire he was had succeeded faster than Frits was.
Holding the glass, she twisted it in her hands. “I was helping Miss Featherton pin one of her flounces. It had torn. We were behind a screen, and two ladies entered the room . . .”
When she mentioned the name of the lady attempting to trap him, a Miss Hanson, Frits could not place her. He wondered if he’d even met her. “What does she look like?”
“Very pretty, with rich chestnut hair and creamy skin. She has blue eyes.” Adeline must have realized that he didn’t know who she was talking about and added, “She is wearing a pale blue gown with silver netting.”
Still nothing. He shook his head. He did not even remember seeing her this evening. “I am positive I have never been introduced to her.”
Adeline’s nicely rounded jaw firmed and her silver eyes sparked with anger. “What a fiend she is. It is bad enough to attempt to compromise a gentleman one knows, but I cannot think of a word contemptible enough for a female who would do so to a man she has not even met.”
He could think of a few appropriate words, but they were not for a lady’s ears. Especially Adeline’s. He liked hearing her defend him, but now she was waiting for him to answer. To be as outraged as she was. “Yes, well.”
She took another sip of wine. A larger one this time. “Did you receive the note?”
“I did.” Frits promptly took it out of the pocket in his waistcoat, unfolded it, and handed it to her. “It is singularly uninformative. It merely directs me to meet the writer near the bushes to the right of the terrace.”
She perused the missive. “That is what she said she had written. She brought it with her.” Adeline glanced around the room. “Do you have the time?”
Did that mean the lady knew he’d be here, or would any gentleman have done? There was no name on the message. He opened his pocket watch. “Five past the hour.”
“The meeting is not for another twenty-five minutes.” She looked up from the paper, and he was surprised to see a challenging, almost militant look in her eyes. She was ferociously furious on his behalf. Just the thought of her wishing to protect him warmed his heart, but, again, that made him want to sweep her off her feet and to his coach. “We could both go and confront her.”
It was a good thing he’d not yet taken a drink; otherwise, he’d be choking. Frits might not know Miss Hanson, but he knew her type. He’d been plagued by them for years. And it would not be a good idea for her to know Adeline had ruined her plan. “I would prefer that we join the others for supper. Then, when you see her, you can tell me which lady she is.”
Her finely arched brows furrowed, causing a line between them. Frits kept his elbows firmly against his sides. He was very close to drawing her into his arms. After several moments, she let out a huff of air. “I suppose that would be better than creating a scene.”
“Much.” Thank God she was being reasonable. Then again, she was usually sensible. He held out his arm, and she took it. “Not nearly as satisfying, but much better.” Not only that, but tonight at supper, he’d make sure he was able to sit next to her.
When they reached the supper room, he was pleased to see that her family had held two chairs for them.
“What took you so long?” her sister-in-law asked.
Adeline glanced at him, and he nodded. “There was a lady who wished to compromise Lord Littleton, and I was helping him.”
Her brother Wivenly patted her on her back. “Well done.” He glanced at Frits. “It never ceases to amaze me how many ladies think that is a sure way to the altar.” He slipped his arm about his wife, gazing at her besottedly. “Thank God I found Eugénie.”
Frits had known the man for years. He found it interesting—almost comical—that after dodging marriage-minded ladies and their mamas since he’d come down from Oxford, Wivenly had left England to avoid marriage only to return with a wife. “I am eternally grateful that Lady Adeline sought to help me.”
Her cheeks and the tops of her breasts were awash with a lovely deep pink. Look at her eyes. “I think I should eat something. All this intrigue has made me hungry.”
