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Westhall lifted his goblet, “Son, welcome, and Lady Adelaine, may I say my son is a poor accessory to your resplendence.”
“Thank you, Father,” Islington said dryly. “It is always wonderful to know how much you regard me.”
Laughing while curtsying she shook her head, “It seems that flattery runs in the family. Your son, My Lord, is a flatterer too.”
“He’s been raised to be attentive to women,” Lord Westhall said.
Again, Adelaine ignored the sudden flutter of fans over a few of the women’s faces. “My Father sends his regards to his absence. He was called back to London rather abruptly.”
“Ah, Daffield,” Westhall nodded. “He watches when Henry’s eyes are closed. That man has my respect but he needs to pull away from London before the stress there gives him an apoplexy.”
“After the many near-death experiences he has had with my brother, may he rest in peace, I think my father is rather immune to apoplexies,” Adelaine replied wryly.
Westhall laughed. “I like you, Lady Adelaine. Your wit is refreshing.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” she replied. “I do appreciate that.”
A servant came around with a tray of drinks and Adelaine was handed one with smooth sweet wine. She sipped and only listened to the conversation flowing around her. Once or twice she spotted women looking at her over the rims of their fans but looked away the moment their eyes met.
Getting slightly aggravated, Adelaine excused herself to get some water. Islington followed her. They ended up alone—again—in the refreshment room.
“Is something bothering you?” Islington asked.
She cocked her head; How does he not know? “Have you not seen some women looking at me and laughing?”
“No,” he said. “I have not and you should not pay them any mind. I’m here with you. They are probably jealous.”
His words were logical. After all, he was a Viscount with a prosperous territory and a rather-rich father. Many women would give an arm and a leg to be in her place. “I suppose you are right.”
“I am,” Islington said and lifted her head up, kissed her lips quickly. “Don’t let them bother you.”
Stunned about his daring move, Adelaine watched him pour her water. Her lips were still tingling. She took the drink and quenched her thirst before they went back to the party. “My Lord, why haven’t I met your mother?”
“Oh,” Islington smiled. “My mother is very sensitive to cold so, at this time of year she retires to the Mediterranean, she has a chalet in Italy. Never fear, you will meet her soon before we get married.”
Wonderful, more pressure on me.
“I’ll look forward to meeting her,” Adelaine replied, even though there was not much enthusiasm. What else could she do? She should be gracious to the family of her soon-to-be husband.
Islington was called away for a moment and she went to refresh her glass when a servant came up to her with a note on a silver platter. “Lady Adelaine?”
“Yes?” she replied warily.
“This is for you, My Lady,” the man bowed as he handed out the platter.
“Thank you,” Adelaine said as she took the sealed note. An ominous feeling settled in her stomach as she saw her name written in an unfamiliar hand. Popping the seal, she read: Please be aware of who you might be married to. It is common unspoken knowledge that Lord Islington has begotten a girl-child which to this day stands unacknowledged.
She felt frozen where she stood. Flipping the note over she looked to see if anyone had signed it but there was nothing. She looked up, hating that she had not had the insight to ask the servant who had written it. Sadly, the man was gone.
She stared back to the note, Lord Islington has begotten a girl-child which to this day stands unacknowledged.
Was her instinct from the first day she had seen Islington correct? Was he truly a philanderer? Unable to look at it anymore, she stuffed the note into her reticule. Her chest began to burn with shame. Had her father known about this and not told her? Was the importance of her marrying well more vital than her marrying a man with integrity?
She rejoined the crowd just as the announcement that dinner would be served in fifteen minutes came. She couldn’t bear to go through the meal so upset. She had no appetite. Spotting Islington, she grimaced; he was in a group of men that, if she dared ask to see him privately, might take it for something other than what it was. But she had no choice, time was slipping away from her.
She approached quietly and a man spotted her as she came but did not say anything. Luckily, Islington did. He gestured her over. “Lady Adelaine, thank you for gifting us with your presence. It was getting a little bland here.”
“L’adulazione non ti porterà da nessuna parte,” Adelaine said calmly and two of the men chuckled. She curtsied. “Please to meet you, My Lords, but would you please excuse Lord Islington? I have some matters to discuss with him.”
