THE END OF ONE NIGHT
An hour later, in the Bostwick town coach
George Bennett-Jones held onto his wife’s gloved hand as she stepped up and into their coach. Ertugrul and Adeline were already settled into the squabs, engaged in a quiet conversation.
“Where’s David?” Elizabeth asked once she realized he was missing.
“He said he’s going to walk home,” Ertugrul replied.
Her eyes widening, Elizabeth turned to George, but he had already lifted a hand to pat hers. “It’s all right. He spoke with me. He needs some time to himself,” he murmured.
“But... what about footpads?” she asked in alarm.
“Bostwick House is not that far away,” he assured her. “He’ll probably get there before we do.”
Ertugrul leaned closer to Adeline. “Does he usually walk home from balls?”
Adeline shrugged. “Sometimes. Especially if they’re in Park Lane. My father is right when he says David will probably arrive before we do. We only live a few houses away.”
Remembering it hadn’t taken long to get to Weatherstone Manor, Ertugrul nodded his understanding. “Should we have walked?” he asked, barely nodding in the direction of George and Elizabeth. The two were murmuring quietly, and from the way their bodies were angled, he didn’t think they were discussing the ball. Before he could avert his eyes, he paid witness to George nibbling on one of Elizabeth’s ears.
Trying hard to suppress a giggle, Adeline held a gloved hand around one side of her mouth and said, “Perhaps we will next time.”
Ertugrul grinned at her antics. He had a thought that she might have drunk too much champagne during the supper. Although she had never seemed reserved around him from the moment they met, she had behaved on this night as if they had become especially close.
Close friends or something more, he didn’t yet know. Didn’t yet know if he was ready to know.
Despite having danced nearly every dance at the ball—almost every one with a different partner—he hadn’t felt as comfortable with any of the other young ladies as he had with Adeline.
He knew the reason of course.
They had spent hours in each others’ company at the museum. Their shared interests had much to do with their easy banter during the waltz. The more time they spent together, the more enamored he had become of her.
Even if nothing more than friendship developed between them, he looked forward to the next morning, when he would deliberately stand in front of Aphrodite in anticipation of her finding him. Look forward to her chiding him about his interest in the half-naked statue. Look forward to their descent to the breakfast parlor.
Curious as to what she thought of the evening, he turned to ask her and discovered her head resting against his shoulder. A quick glance at George, and he realized his viscountess was sound asleep in his arms.
George shrugged. “They tend to do this after all the balls. And the theatre,” he whispered hoarsely. “If you’re uncomfortable with her like that, you can simply push her away.”
Ertugrul’s eyes widened. “Oh, no sir. It is fine. She is fine.” Sure his face was bright red, he was glad for the darkened interior of the coach.
A moment later, and they were in front of Bostwick House.
Meanwhile, in the Ariley town coach
“I don’t think I’m as ready for this Season as I thought,” Helen, Duchess of Ariley, said as she stepped into the Ariley town coach. Her feet sore from wearing new slippers, she practically fell into the light blue velvet squabs as she sighed in relief.
The coach’s new coat of black lacquer fairly gleamed under the light of the moon, the Ariley coat of arms emblazoned in gold paint on the door. “I do believe I know what you mean,” James replied as he helped his daughter into the coach. “First day of Parliament followed by the Season’s biggest ball does remind one of their mortality.”
“It reminds me of why I haven’t missed courting,” Rose said on a huff.
She was followed by William, who remained uncharacteristically quiet as he settled onto the bench next to Rose.
Their departure from Weatherstone Manor appeared to have signaled a sort of permission for others to take their leave, for a quick glance out the coach window showed a steady stream of couples emerging from the manor house.
When the hall clock had struck one, those in the grand ballroom had begun to bid their farewells to one another, but it was another hour before James and his family thanked their weary hosts and made their way towards the waiting coach outside.
William knocked on the trap door above him. A moment later, four matching black horses, their muscular builds and glossy coats a testament to their care and training, lurched into motion. The chatter of ball-goers faded, replaced by the sound of the coach wheels and clattering of hooves on cobblestone.
