“He’s a viscount now,” George said, referring to Matthew Fitzsimmons’ only son. The head of the Foreign Office, Matthew had died in 1841 leaving a bereft widow and a son who was known for his serious nature and sterling reputation.
“Chamberlain has absolutely no sense of humor,” Adeline complained, referring to the young viscount.
“Perhaps he merely needs someone to help him develop one,” George suggested. Realizing Adeline didn’t wish to be that person, he quickly added, “Who else?”
“Theodore Streater, which would be like marrying my own brother,” she complained. Her father’s best friend was Baron Theodore Streater, and he had been her mother’s first client.
“Understood,” her father replied. “Who else?”
“Marcus Henley.”
George winced. “Isn’t he off digging in the dirt with his father?”he asked.
“He is an archaeologist, yes,” Adeline replied. “Lord James has joined his dig,” she added. “With his wife, the...” Her eyes rounded. “Our guest’s sister,” she finished, remembering what her mother had read to her from one of Charlotte’s letters about the situation.
“Our guest’stwinsister,” George murmured. “Apparently Sevinc Sultana is very interested in archaeology and stays with Lord James on his expeditions.”
“I think they’ve only been to London once since their wedding,” Adeline remarked.
“If you wed Marcus Henley, you’d essentially be a widow,” George said on a sigh. “Unless you joined him on his expeditions.”
Adeline angled her head to one side. “When I travel, I think I would prefer not stopping all the time to discover what’s beneath my feet,” she admitted.
“Who else?” he asked when she didn’t offer another name.
“A couple of sons of dukes who don’t live in town. Then there is Thomas Grayson—”
“Marquess of Billingsley,” George said with appreciation.
“—who I think has his eye on Rose, but I’m not sure, and Marcus Higgins.”
“Greenley’s heir,” her father stated. “Whodoesn’tlive here in town,” he added with a wince.
“Exactly.”
George’s gaze went to the clock on the fireplace mantel. “I need to go up and dress for dinner. Do be sure to join us in the parlor before we go down. I want to introduce you to the sultan’s son,” he said.
Adeline pretended boredom. “Is he... a proud sort?” she asked, wincing at how prickly she sounded.
Her father shook his head. “Not a bit,” he replied. “In fact, he’s almost too humble,” he added. “Do be nice. He’ll be our guest for the entire Season.”
Inhaling sharply, Adeline said, “I’m always nice,” she replied on a huff.
“No pretending to be a wallflower.”
“But I am,” she countered, her hands going to her hips.
George moved around the desk and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I think it’s admirable that you spend your time at balls with the less fortunate girls,” he said, sure she did so because Lady Rose hadn’t been able to dance given her leg, “but it may be time to allow yourself to shine at this Season’s events,” he gently chided. “Remember, you are Elizabeth Carlington’s daughter.”
Adeline’s eyes widened at hearing her father’s comment. “What’sthatsupposed to mean?” she asked in alarm.
Chuckling softly, George said, “Ask your mother.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead before taking his leave of the study.
Watching him go, Adeline crossed her arms and let out a huff. She had thought the way she spoke of the unmarried men would have her father understanding she had no desire to marry any of them—or at all—and now she wondered how she was going to convince him she would prefer to simply run her mother’s charity and be a spinster.
Well, there was an entire Season in which to prove her point, she supposed. She trudged up the stairs to change for dinner.
