“After we eat, let’s take a walk to town.” Adeline tugged the bellpull. “I am in need of a new bonnet.”
That sounded like a good idea. A new bonnet, a party, and possibly a new gentleman. “An excellent idea.”
* * *
Gavin dragged a hand down his face. He’d spent the last two hours in a committee meeting and was on his way to the next one. Normally, the discussions would have held his interest, but today all he could think of was Georgie. He should stop sulking over her and do something. The problem was that he had no idea what to do.
“You look like hell.” The new Earl of Bolingbroke slapped Gavin on the back.
He felt like hell. If he’d known being rejected would cause this much agony, he never would have proposed. Drinking certainly had not helped. “I haven’t had a good couple of days.”
“It will get better,” Bolingbroke said loudly—although that might be the fault of the brandy Gavin had consumed last night—and much too cheerfully. “They always do. My grandfather always told me that, and he was right.”
“So I have heard.” Gavin wished the man would go away. Bolingbroke hadn’t even formally taken his seat in the Lords yet. “What are you doing here?”
“Seeing how things work. My grandfather told me a great deal, but I needed to see it for myself. I’ve been invited to a house party though. That will be a pleasant diversion until my ceremony.”
Who the devil would give a house party during the Season? Not that this autumn had been much fun. “A house party?”
“Indeed. Lady Turner and Mrs. Fitzwalter are hosting it,” Bolingbroke said. “I’ve known their husbands for years.”
Gavin felt his brows lowering without his consent. Blast it all, he couldn’t even control his own features. But something was nagging at him. “Aren’t their estates in Surrey?”
“They are. It’s not far from Town.”
And not far from Littlewood. Or from Georgie.
Bloody hellhounds!
How could he have forgotten? Turner’s and Fitzwalter’s estates bordered Littlewood.
The one thing he did not want was for other gentlemen to be sniffing around Georgie. “Do you happen to know who else has been invited?”
“Not really.” The man frowned. “I do know St. Albans is going.”
The Earl of St. Albans was a courtesy title and, from what Gavin had seen, the man had little to keep him occupied. “I’m surprised that he would consider a house party very interesting.”
“It depends which ladies are there.” A smirk briefly appeared on Bolingbroke’s face. “Then again, I’ve heard both Lady Turner and Mrs. Fitzwalter are pretty high sticklers. He might need a repairing lease.”
That sounded more likely, but it also meant that his lordship would be more than willing to entertain the ladies. “I wish you a good time.”
“Thank you. I hope you feel better.” Bolingbroke sauntered off. He was only a year or so younger than Gavin, but the man made him feel ancient.
Exeter came up as his lordship left. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
Gavin did not need to ask what his friend was talking about. It was Georgie. All of his thoughts, all of his difficulties revolved around her. “No. I was going to ride to Littlewood, but then I thought it would make me appear desperate.”
“You are desperate.” Exeter’s tone was as dry as sand.
“Yes, well, I don’t wish tolooklike I am, do I?” The more Gavin had thought about his plan to convince Georgie to marry him, the more it seemed like an idea that was bound to fail.
“I suppose it depends what you want,” his friend said unhelpfully.
What he wanted right now was to take a swing at someone. “You do realize that you are not being at all helpful?”
Exeter just shrugged. “Dorie heard from Georgie. According to what my wife told me, she is having a wonderful time visiting Littlewood. They are even going to attend some of the events at a house party.”
That was the last straw. “I’m going to Jackson’s. You’re welcome to join me if you wish.”
