THE ARILEY BALL
The following morning, April 13, 1844
When Ertugrul entered the breakfast parlor with Adeline on his arm, he paused and waited until George, Elizabeth, and David all looked up from their plates.
“Good morning,” he said as he dipped his head.
“Good morning,” Adeline said, her grin so wide she looked as if she was about to burst.
“I have an announcement to make,” Ertugrul stated. When the three occupants in the room turned their attentions to him, he said, “Adeline has agreed to marry me.”
David’s eyes rounded while neither of his parents seemed particularly surprised. “What? Am I the last to know?” he asked in shock.
“Best wishes, darling,” Elizabeth said as she stood and kissed Adeline on the cheek. She regarded Ertugrul with a wistful expression. “Your Eminence,” she added as she angled her head and sighed.
“Thank you,” Adeline whispered.
George stepped up and kissed her on the forehead. “I wish you all the happiness in the world,” he murmured. He turned to Ertugrul. “I was beginning to think you had changed your mind when she didn’t say anything about it yesterday.”
“I gave her the ring last night. Before the opera started,” Ertugrul explained.
“A ring?” Elizabeth repeated. “You didn’t showme.”
Adeline held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. “A rose for a rose, he said.”
“Oh!” her mother said on a gasp as she took Adeline’s hand with both of hers. “Alexander made this, didn’t he?” she asked in awe.
Ertugrul nodded. “His wife helped me choose it yesterday.”
“Oh, George,” Elizabeth breathed.
“All right. I can take a hint,” he said with a chuckle.
“We’ll have the Duke of Ariley make the announcement tonight. But after he announces your betrothal,” she added as she turned to regard David.
“And after he announces Waverley’s betrothal,” her son reminded her.
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said. “I need to pen a note to Helen right away,” she said, hurrying from the breakfast parlor.
Ertugrul and Adeline regarded one another with a grin before helping themselves to breakfast.
Later that night
The five-piece orchestra was still playing the prelude music for that night’s ball when James, Duke of Ariley, hurried up to speak with George Bennett-Jones and Marcus Batey. “I’m not sure whether to thank you or your son,” he said jovially as he shook George’s hand. His family had arrived only a few minutes earlier, the women already in conversation with others while David had moved on to find Rose.
“I only read him the list,” George claimed as the duke shook Marcus’ hand. “But something tells me I wouldn’t have had to. He held a candle for your daughter long before he left on his Grand Tour.”
“I must say, I rather wish I had ordered Rose and Waverley to marry far sooner than after the last ball,” James remarked.
“What’s this?” Marcus asked.
Chuckling, the duke took a sip of champagne and moved closer. “I’m old. I wanted to see them wed and to give me grandchildren before I die, so I ordered them to marry. Told them rank didn’t matter these days. We all know fortunes are what pay the bills. Not titles.”
“And yet, your son is marrying a viscount’s daughter,” George said. He turned to Marcus and added, “No offense.”
“None taken. I was as shocked as anyone.”
“That’s another one off the list,” George remarked.
