“Only one when I find him.” Owen hoped that day came sooner rather than later.
As they were leaving, he spied Lord Thomas Smythe entering with a man Owen didn’t recognize. Giving him a friendly nod, Owen wondered if Adelia’s brother had any reservations about his sister keeping company with him, knowing he had a bit of a rakish reputation.
However, Smythe acknowledged him with a benign nod in return, at the same time, drawing the other man’s attention. The stranger’s face markedly altered as if they were acquainted, despite Owen not recognizing him. Before he could think more of it, the two men disappeared inside Teavey’s club.
*
Adelia felt alittle let down when no invitation came by courier the next day. She and Lord Burnley—Owen, as she now thought of him—had ended the night on such a pleasant exchange and with the promise of another evening together. On the other hand, she had no idea how these things worked. Perhaps there was an acceptable length of time between outings, some etiquette of which no one had ever made her aware.
Meanwhile, over her morning tea and coddled eggs, she sorted through the Season’s recent invitations and tried to quell her excitement about the next ball.What a wonderful new emotion—excitement!
“What are you doing, Dilly-girl?” Thomas asked her when he came to breakfast, helping himself to a plate of eggs, fried mushrooms, sausages, and thick bacon from the covered dishes on the sideboard.
Another night had passed, and he’d been away from home all the prior day and out late. It was the first time she’d seen him since the theatre.
“Reading the invitations,” she confessed, having put to one side the ball she was most hopeful Owen would attend, as well as a dinner party. In another pile, she had the endlessly tedious picnics, boating outings, cricket matches, and croquet tournaments.
“And you want to toss the lot of them into the fire grate, is that right?” he asked, drawing one of the morning newspapers closer to his plate and glancing at it while he stirred his tea.
“Not necessarily,” she said, eying the few invitations in which she was truly interested. She knew in her heart it was folly to pin her happiness on the appearance of one man at a ball. Nevertheless, she couldn’t seem to help herself from doing precisely that.
And what of her brother?He had less and less interest in the Season’s schedule, which caused her to believe he’d found a love match already.
“Are you going to tell me about the dark-haired woman?” Adelia was unable to contain her curiosity any longer.
Her brother dropped the toast he was slathering with gooseberry jam but said nothing. A moment later, he stabbed a sausage with his fork and picked up the newspaper with his other hand, trying to hold it between them.
“What woman?” he eventually asked, his voice sounding flat and his gaze remaining fixed on the news of the day.
“The woman in our box at the theatre, of course.”
After a few seconds, he sighed and lowered the paper.
“You said you were going to see Shakespeare,” Thomas pointed out as if her being there were the issue, “at the Theatre Royal. Despite nineteen theatres in London, you and I end up at the very same one!”
She tilted her head. “So, you did see me?”
“Perhaps.”
“And you left becauseIwas there?”How could that be?
“Why are you peppering me with questions?” He rattled the newspaper, then dropped it and crammed the sausage into his mouth.
“Why are you being secretive?” Adelia demanded, waiting while he chewed and nearly choked.
Finally, he answered, “Can there not be an aspect of my life I wish to keep private?”
“Of course, but if everyone else is seeing you out in public with a young lady, why not me?”
He sighed. “Because you are the only one I have to face over breakfast.”
She snapped her mouth closed. That was true. Nor she was not letting him eat in peace.
“Very well. I shall let the matter drop. For now,” she added, trying to use her best older-sister voice. “All the same, I would appreciate being the first to be told if and when there is anything to know.”
Thomas smiled and looked like his old self. “Of course, Dilly. I promise. And since we’re being so reasonable and grown up with each other, consider yourself free of any social obligations you do not wish to attend.”
She smiled at him and picked up the larger pile. Standing, she did as he’d suggested and tossed the lot of cream-colored and pale blue stationery into the fireplace to be burned with the late-afternoon fire.
