Moving to the base of the stairs, George was about to call up when the hurried but slightthump thumpsof slippered feet sounded from above. “David, help your mother into the coach. We’ll be along shortly.”
When Adeline finally appeared on the last flight of stairs, George inhaled softly. “You look like a fairy tale princess,” he said, knowing the tease would annoy her. Instead of the usual white ballgowns she had been forced to wear during her first few Seasons, which did nothing for her complexion, Elizabeth had announced that this year, she could wear a gown in a pale color. The full blue silk skirt was enhanced with a series of darker blue furbelows above the hemline with miniature versions along the neckline and at the edge of the gathered sleeves. Long white silk gloves ended just above her elbows.
But it was her hair that made her appear far older than her one-and-twenty years. A series of curls had been ironed into her hair, outlining an otherwise messy bun atop her head, all except for one curled lock that hung down and rested on her shoulder.
“Oh, Father. Can you believe what Perkins has done to me?” she complained, referring to her mother’s lady’s maid.
George chuckled. “I’ll see to it she receives a raise in pay.”
Adeline gave him a quelling glance. “I’m not taking a wrap tonight.”
“All right,” he said as he escorted her out the door. “You’ll have to sit between the boys. There’s no room for your gown and your mother’s on the same side of the coach.”
Elkins nodded as the two took their leave and watched with a suppressed grin as Adeline struggled to push her skirts into the coach. Once the horses had pulled the coach away from the curb, he closed the door as he chuckled.
“Have dresses grown wider whilst I was gone?” David asked as Adeline wedged herself between him and Ertugrul.
“Obviously,” Adeline replied once she was seated. She watched her father take his place next to his viscountess and realized she could take a breath.
A breath awash in an odd combination of spice, amber, leather, Bay Rum, and lime.
After a moment, she determined that all three men wore different colognes. The one to her right smelled the best, however, and she turned her head in that direction to discover Ertugrul regarding her with the same bemused expression he had left her with. “Your gown is lovely, Miss Bennett-Jones.”
She blinked. “Thank you, Your Eminence. Your suit is gorgeous, ” she countered, barely able to see much of it given how packed they were in the coach. From the little she could see by the light of the coach lanterns, the embroidery appeared exquisite.
Did all the men in the empire wear such beautiful clothes for formal occasions? And smell so good?
She grinned at the thought of Lord Weatherstone hosting a ball in the Ottoman Empire. Hosting a ball for Ertugrul. She could just imagine the sun setting over the majestic palace of the sultan, its red and gold hues reflecting off the intricate mosaics and the grand marble columns. Inside the palace, Ertugrul would be preparing for the ball that was to be held in his honor.
As the night grew closer, he would anxiously await the arrival of a mysterious stranger who had been promised to him as a surprise guest.
Lady Rose.
Little did Ertugrul know that this stranger would soon be the cause of a destructive and passionate romance between him and the beautiful viscount’s daughter who had also been invited to the ball.
Adeline blinked.
From where had that last thought come?
“Addy?”
Jerked out of her reverie, Adeline stared at her brother, who was no longer sitting next to her but was staring at her from outside the coach door. “What?”
“Ertugrul cannot get out of the coach until you do,” he said on a huff.
“Oh!” She hadn’t even been aware that the coach had stopped, let alone started. She caught a glimpse of Weatherstone Manor through the window, not surprised to find it was ablaze with lights. “Forgive me.”
Adeline allowed her brother to help her down and turned to watch the sehzade follow. She inhaled softly at seeing his attire by the light of the lanterns that lined the path to the front door. In the ballroom, he would practically shimmer given all the gold he wore.
When he offered his silk-covered arm to her, Adeline hesitated and then tittered as she placed hers atop his. “I feel like an underdressed queen,” she murmured in a teasing voice.
“Unless I am invited to an event hosted by your queen, I won’t be wearing this again,” Ertugrul said under his breath.
“You look so dashing, though,” she replied. “And if it’s any consolation, there will be men here dressed like peacocks.” She tittered again as his face betrayed his confusion. “You’ll see what I mean.”
As was usual for Weatherstone balls, Lord and Lady Weatherstone formed the start of a receiving line which included their son and heir, Sebastian, and their daughter-in-law, Vivian.
“Vivian—Viscountess Cougham—is my sister’s best friend,” Adeline whispered to Ertugrul.
