AN INTENTION IS MADE CLEAR
Afew minutes later, in the dining room
“So, besides the parlor and the updated plumbing, what have I missed these past few years?” David asked before tucking into his meal. He glanced in Ertugrul’s direction, relieved to see that the future sultan of the Ottoman Empire had opted to use a fork instead of a spoon to eat his dinner. Then he remembered the young man had attended Cambridge in his younger years.
“A couple of bad harvests for most,” his father commented. “However, William Gibbs has managed to make a fortune importing guano from Peru.”
“Guano?” David repeated, his brows furrowing as he struggled to remember if he’d heard of it before. His eyes suddenly rounded. “Isn’t that...?”
“Sun-dried bird droppings, yes,” Elizabeth said, directing a footman to see to the next course. “Seems it makes an excellent fertilizer.”
“The man has made enough blunt to purchase Tyntesfield in Somerset and to take a wife,” George said, referring to a gothic estate near the port of Bristol.
“And he has a magnificent house here in London,” Elizabeth said, managing to say it without sounding too jealous.
David kept his attention on his mother as the conversation around the dinner table continued. Although he had only been gone from England a few years—he and James Wainwright had been on their Grand Tour when they took a detour to the sultan’s palace on the Aegean and their lives changed overnight—David couldn’t help but notice his mother’s hair was shot with strands of gray. There were slight lines radiating from the corners of her eyes when she smiled, and he was reminded of how her mother, Adeline, Marchioness of Morganfield, appeared when she was amused.
When his gaze turned to his father, he discovered the viscount hadn’t changed in appearance much at all. Although his temples were gray, his hair was still dark. His eyes, a sort of sapphire blue, were directed on Elizabeth.
No change there. The man was hopelessly in love with Elizabeth Carlington Bennett-Jones and had been since the moment he had spied her during a ball in 1815.
“Is it open for touring?” Ertugrul asked, referring to the house his hostess had mentioned. “I would like it very much to see these houses you speak of.”
Elizabeth straightened in her chair. “I rather doubt it, but I can find out for you,” she offered. “And even if it’s not, you’ll see the interiors of plenty of houses during the Season,” she promised. “The invitations have already started to arrive. Balls,soirées,musicales... and we have a box at the theatre,” she added.
“In other words, we shan’t have a night free for the next six months,” David said dryly as he arched a dark brow in Ertugrul’s direction.
“I’ll have to take you two to White’s as my guests,” George offered. “Your visit has a number of my fellow aristocrats rather curious,” he said to the sultan’s son.
“I would be honored to meet them,” Ertugrul replied. “But I suppose I should be honest as to the reason for my coming to England.”
Elizabeth and George exchanged quick glances before turning their attentions back to their guest. “Oh?” George replied.
“Were you thinking to conquer Great Britain?” Elizabeth asked lightly. “To add it to your empire?”
Ertugrul’s eyes rounded. “Oh, no, my lady. Merely the heart of one of its young ladies,” he replied. “You see, besides spending time in your most amazing museums and buildings, I am here to find a wife.”
Knowing his friend had made a mistake in announcing his intentions—especially to his mother—David hid his smirk behind a hand. “You may regret having said that,” he whispered so only Ertugrul could hear.
The emir gave David a worried glance. “What have I said wrong?” he asked.
George was quick to respond. “Nothing at all. It’s just... you’ll find the matrons... the mothers of young ladies... rather overwhelming when it comes to their daughters.” He winced, realizing their reactions to the sultan’s son might be very different than what it would be for the son of a British aristocrat.
“Overwhelming?” Ertugrul repeated.
“They’ll either hide their daughters behind their skirts or they’ll be shoving them in your direction at every turn,” George warned.
“My father speaks the truth,” David said. “Especially when they learn you’re to inherit the Ottoman Empire.”
Elizabeth and George exchanged quick glances from opposite ends of the table. “Perhaps we can assemble a list of eligible young ladies,” George suggested, his gaze darting to Adeline. Beneath the table, he patted his waistcoat pocket to be sure the list he had hastily assembled was still there. He wasn’t sure he remembered every one of the young ladies Adeline had mentioned whilst in his study, but he had a good start. “Help narrow down the choices a bit before you have to meet them all at a ball or two.”
“That shouldn’t be difficult,” Adeline remarked. “Since there are no unwed princesses at this time, that really only leaves the daughters of dukes, I should think,” she reasoned. “And the only one of an age to marry who isn’t betrothed is Lady Rose.” She said this last with a hint of triumph, as if her plan to see to a suitor for her friend was already set in motion.
“Ariley’s daughter?” David guessed. From his expression, it was apparent he was confused.
“Yes,” Adeline replied happily.
“How is she not already married?” he asked in disbelief. “She’s almost as old as me.”
