He looked around the room. He could not avoid his social obligations, but he felt an urgent need to tell Adele how he felt. Instead, he saw Fletcher out of the corner of his eye.
“Ladies, will you excuse me for just one moment?”
He snagged Fletcher’s arm as he walked by. “Can you please do me a favor?” Hugh asked.
“Find an escape route?” Fletcher said as he eyed the crowd of ladies.
“Will you please see to Lady Adele? I will never get across the room without being accosted by others, but I wanted her to know that I do not mean for our one waltz to be the end of our acquaintance.”
Fletcher nodded, and the smile on his face told Hugh he understood. They shook hands and Fletcher walked toward the refreshment table.
As Hugh reengaged with the group of women, his mother appeared at his elbow and said, “Lady Eugenia, it is a delight to see you.”
Hugh had recognized Eugenia as the woman who had stopped him in the park on the day he’d returned home, but had not been able to recall how well they knew each other prior to that. He’d gotten pretty good at faking it when people he spoke with clearly remembered more than he did, and currently only his friends, mother, and Adele knew his memory had been so severely injured. But the familiarity with which his mother greeted Eugenia set off alarm bells.
“Hugh, dance the next waltz with Eugenia,” said Helena.
Eugenia was a pretty enough girl, he supposed. Eighteen if she was a day. Her curly reddish-blond hair was piled high on her head and festooned with flowers and her gown was a deep red, well-made, and expensive. She wore rubies at her throat and hanging from her ears. Lord Sackville had earned a ceremonial title after he’d set his textile mill to the task of making uniforms for His Majesty’s army, and said textile mill had earned him enough money to drape the women in his family in jewels and fine linens. Hugh interpreted Lady Eugenia’s dress as a clear signal that Lord Sackville was offering a substantial dowery to the man who took his daughter off his hands.
As they spoke, Eugenia wrinkled her nose, and Hugh remembered quite suddenly that he did not like her; he found her rude and judgmental. Indeed, now she said to her friends, “Did you see Winifred Parker dance with Lord Hinton? Her dance steps are as horselike as her face.” The other women giggled in response. Hugh glanced at his mother, as if he could mentally ask her if she really thought Eugenia was a suitable romantic prospect, but her face looked serene.
Thus he was somewhat chagrined when the waltz started and he had to escort Eugenia to the floor.
“Who was that plain girl you danced with before?”
“Lady Adele Paulson.”
“Paulson? She is… Canbury’s daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Papa loathes Lord Canbury. I overheard him say, quite inappropriately I might add, that Canbury spends so much time kissing Prinny’s feet that he does not have time to do anything of worth in Parliament. Of course, as a lady, I do not need bother with the goings on at Lords, but I get the impression Papa is not alone in his feelings.”
“She does not live with him,” Hugh said. “She is a companion to the Countess of Sweeney.”
“Hardly more than a servant, I hear. Quite ignominious of her, isn’t it.”
He was reminded of Adele’s lament that she had so few options. She had come to his bed because she genuinely thought she’d never know the touch of a man otherwise. Adele deserved so much more than scraps.
“I disagree,” said Hugh.
“You are softhearted then, Your Grace.”
“Perhaps.” But he didn’t view that as a character flaw, the way her tone implied.
After the waltz with Eugenia, his mother took up the strings as if he were a marionette, and had him dance with a series of young ladies, until he worried his feet would fall off. Each lady seemed more empty-headed than the last, striking up conversations with him about fashion or music or something similarly shallow. By the time he finished a country dance with the younger sister of the Duke of Ardmore, he recognized that he wasn’t being fair; each of these ladies was probably perfectly nice and reasonably intelligent and would make some man of thetona delightful wife, but he didn’t want any of them because he only wanted Adele.
Eugenia Sackville circled back around to him just as he was looking for Adele again. If he could not escape this room—and indeed, he hadn’t managed to venture father than a few feetin front of the dance floor—he would at least seek Adele out again. But Eugenia hooked her hand around his elbow and said, “Father wanted me to mention that he is interested in acquiring a parcel of land in Shropshire, and since you are the foremost authority on how to best negotiate land sales, he would like to speak with you on the matter. Just to gain your insight.”
There was no way Hugh could have carried on such a conversation without the aid of Killingworth, but he nodded. He understood as well that Sackville was invariably throwing his daughter at Hugh with the aim of gaining access to perhaps even more land, or creating some kind of alliance. The realization disgusted Hugh, even while he knew that this was how thetonworked. Marriages were not for love, but rather for land and property, financial gain, or the continuing of a line.
“Tell your father he may schedule an appointment with my secretary if he would like to discuss.”
“I am sure he will be happy to hear that, Your Grace,” said Eugenia.
Hugh watched Fletcher lead Adele to the dance floor for the next country dance. They smiled at each other, and Hugh knew that Fletcher was merely doing what Hugh had asked of him, and yet Hugh struggled to tamp down the hot acid of jealousy rising in his throat.
“Forget about Lady Adele,” said Eugenia, clearly following Hugh’s gaze.
