“Oh, I do. Very much,” George replied. “It’s thecourtingthat had me aging prematurely. The sending them out to the park. All that angst. The tears.” He paused before adding, “That’s when you know she’s in love, though.”
Ertugrul displayed an expression of worry, but didn’t say anything. As for his own twin sister, he couldn’t recall her shedding tears over Lord James, but she claimed to love him. Perhaps tears weren’t always necessary.
“Who else is on that list?” David asked, the game forgotten.
“The Earl of Fennington’s daughter, Lucy Turnbridge. Very proper. Very pretty. Very shy.”
“Go on,” David encouraged.
“Eva Sommers, Baron Sommer’s daughter. And yes, she’s a bluestocking, but I understand she can hold her own in a conversation with just about anyone,” George remarked.
“Then she’d do best with a member of the Royal Society,” David replied. “I don’t know that I’d want a wife who is more clever than me.”
The sound of a suppressed chuckle had George grinning at Ertugrul. “He has become a bit high on his horse, hasn’t he?” he asked rhetorically.
Ertugrul’s expression of confusion had David laughing. “I think you’re imagining a blue sock, aren’t you?” he teased.
The sultan’s son winced. “What is a bluestocking?”
“A woman who reads a great deal and is educated,” George explained. “Your sisters could probably all qualify.”
“Sevinc Sultana, certainly,” David said, referring to Ertugrul’s twin sister. “Who else?” he asked, lifting his head to indicate the list.
George held out the parchment again. “Oh, a couple of the Fulton girls. The Earl of Wadsworth’s daughters, Patience and Faith.”
Although they were both amiable, neither one elicited a bit of excitement in David “Next?”
Giving his son a scolding expression, George said, “Here’s one you know well. Lily Streater.” She was Theodore Streater’s only daughter, and her mother was a duke’s illegitimate but acknowledged daughter.
“Lily?” David repeated. “She’s like a sister to me,” he complained. He turned to Ertugrul. “Beautiful, perfect young lady—”
“Because her parents own a finishing school and her father is a baronandmy best friend,” George put in with a grin.
“—Who I have known since she wasborn,” David finished. He returned to the table and lifted his cue. “Who was born in eighteen-seventeen?” he asked. “She’s on the shelf, is she not?” He bent to line up his shot.
Wincing, his father dipped his head. “Lady Rose.”
His concentration shattered. David’s aim was off enough that when the end of his cue hit the ball, it caused the ivory sphere to bounce at an odd angle, completely missing its intended target.
Despite having learned about the young lady’s unfortunate accident during dinner, he couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of... of something. She was a duke’s daughter. Never would he have considered her a possibility when it came to courtship, but if others had passed her by—Raymond Roderick, the Marquess of Reading’s heir, obviously had—then perhaps there was a chance she might consider his suit.
“Careful. You nearly tore the felt,” Ertugrul said in a hoarse whisper.
Jerked from his reverie, David glanced up. “Oh. Uh... the cue slipped,” he said as he stepped back from the table. “I need to use the chalk.” He turned to his father. “Is that everyone?”
Regarding his son with an odd expression, George shook his head. “I’m sure there are others we’re not as familiar with,” he hedged. “Some who don’t live in London but will no doubt come for the Season. You’ll meet them all at Weatherstone’s ball tomorrow night.”
David and Ertugrul exchanged appreciative glances.
“Which means you’ll want to practice your dancing.”
The young men’s expressions sobered.
Ertugrul stepped forward. “Sir, might I ask if it would be possible for me to visit the British Museum on the morrow?”
George shrugged. “Of course. We can arrange for the town coach to take you.” He turned to David. “It’s not your favorite, I know, but Adeline might be available to tag along if you don’t want to. She loves to go there, and I never let her go alone, of course.”
“I need to see a tailor in New Bond Street,” David said as he turned to address his friend. “I rather doubt any of my formal clothes are fashionable these days, so if you’re all right with the idea of attending with my sister...” He allowed the sentence to trail off.
Ertugrul gave a nod. “I look forward to it,” he said, hoping he didn’t appear too enthusiastic. “But on the day of a ball, will she still wish to go?”
Grinning, George nodded. “Wild horses wouldn’t keep her away.”
