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Chapter Twenty-Two
When Adeline stepped from the carriage, Marcella could no longer contain herself. She swept past the waiting maid, flung open the door to the manor, and grinned.
Adeline clapped her hands together in delight. “Marcella! I mean,Lady Hurrow,” Marcella’s friend said mischievously. “I’m so happy to see you! How have you been?”
They’d only been deprived of one another’s company for two weeks, but marriage had been such an unexpectedly exciting, wonderful event that Marcella had ached to have her friend once more at her side.
The ladies embraced one another tightly, and even though they’d finished their hug, they remained still close to one another. Adeline held her friend’s hands and looked her over, as if she thought Marcella might’ve become somehow discernably different during their short absence. “How have you been?” Adeline asked. “You must tell me everything!”
Marcella laughed. “I shall! I promise!”
“And how is the handsome Marquess?” Adeline asked, lowering her voice. “Is he as dreadful as you’d imagined? Does he let you write?”
“He’s not as dreadful as I imagined,” Marcella replied, squeezing her friend’s hands. “You know, of course, that I very rarely admit when I’m wrong, so you’d best savor this moment.”
“I shall, indeed,” Adeline said. “Have you grown to like him, then?”
“I have. I think you were right. He is well-suited for me, certainly better than any other man in theton.Reginald has been very kind and patient with me, and he’s supportive in all my endeavors.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Adeline said.
“So am I,” Marcella replied.
She ached to tell Adeline everything—about how gentle and thoughtful Reginald was as a lover, about his past as a highwayman, and about his resolve to invite his old friends from Southwark into the family estate, but Marcella knew that she could not. The topics would not be appropriate, and although Adeline would indulge her in impropriety, Marcella felt that the matters were best left a secret between herself and Reginald for the time being.
“So how long do you intend to stay?” Marcella asked, guiding her friend to the manor. “And how are you? You must forgive me. I was so excited to see you that I did not even think to ask. How is Lord Brookshire?”
“I will stay for as long as you’ll have me or until something else tears me away,” Adeline said, walking alongside Marcella. “I am well, although I’ll confess that my chances of an engagement with Lord Brookshire remain much the same. I think he likes me well enough.”
“If he does not, he is a young lord with abominably poor taste,” Marcella insisted.
“Just so.”
The maid quickly opened the door to admit them, and once they entered, Marcella led her friend into her favorite drawing room. Another maid immediately swept away, ready to prepare tea for Adeline’s arrival.
Marcella seated herself on a rosewood loveseat with pink, floral cushions. “Well?” she asked.
Adeline sat beside her and sighed. The young lady slumped against the cushions and tossed her head back against the seat. “Despite his expressed fondness for me, he’s not made the first hint that he may consider me appropriate for marriage, and I’m unsure if it’s because he wants to be cautious or if he’s courting better options.”
Marcella winced. “Have you asked him?”
“I’ve tried, and he’s been evasive,” Adeline replied. “He says that the matter is better discussed at a later date. If he does find me unsuitable, I wish he’d do me the courtesy of saying so, rather than dragging this whole affair out and letting me fret over it.”
“What do his parents say?” Marcella asked. “Do they seem as though they’d approve of the match?”
“They seem to like me, too. It’s so hard to tell, though! You know his parents! They’re polite to a fault. I daresay that if Lord Brookshire brought home a miller’s daughter and declared her his bride, they’d be polite to her. For them, the greatest sin in the world is to say an unkind word.”
Marcella nodded sympathetically. Although she’d fond happiness in Reginald, which she was infinitely grateful for, it seemed grossly unfair that poor Adeline, who wanted so ardently to be married, would have so little success with the lord she desired.
“But I will tell you something else,” Adeline said. “I might have another interested suitor. I’m sure you remember Lord Simon?”
Marcella blinked. “Reginald’s cousin? I daresay it would be impossible to forget him.”
After all, was she not living on the estate which had once been his and calling herself by a title which ought to have gone to his wife?
“Yes, well,” Adeline said. “I barely know him. We’ve only exchanged a few words at balls. You know how it is.”
“Of course.”
