BREAKFAST AFTER A BALL
The following morning
Only an hour later than usual, Adeline awoke and quickly dressed, refusing the lady’s maid offer to do her hair. “I’ll leave it down for now. I don’t want to be late for breakfast.” In reality, she wanted to hear everyone’s comments about the ball the night before.
She emerged from her bedchamber and headed down the corridor toward the stairs. In her haste, she nearly collided with Ertugrul near the statue of Aphrodite.
“Oh, my apologies, Your Eminence,” she said as she stepped back and curtsied.
Ertugrul’s initial grin turned to a frown. “There’s no need for formality betwixt us,” he said. “Is there?”
She dipped her head. “Of course not. Old habits, I suppose. I do wish to apologize for... for having fallen asleep on you last night in the coach.” When she replayed the words in her head, she winced and a blush heated her cheeks.
It was Ertugrul’s turn to dip his head. “As I mentioned last night, I did not mind.” he said. “You’re always welcome to sleep on my shoulder.” At noticing her blush, he added, “Your hair is very long. Very beautiful. It reminds me of the copper from Cyprus.”
Now glad she had dismissed Perkins, Adeline said, “Thank you.” She took a steadying breath. “Were you going down for breakfast?”
Ertugrul nodded. “Yes. I’m anxious to hear all the stories from the ball. And you?”
“I practically live for them,” she said on a giggle.
He offered his arm, and she took it. “I am glad I was merely an outsider last evening,” he commented. “It gave me a chance to observe as well as participate, although I do wonder how I was judged.”
Inhaling softly, Adeline said, “I hadn’t thought anyone was judging you,” she replied. “I think most were merely curious is all.” Halfway down the stairs, she asked, “Did you enjoy it, though? You must have danced nearly every set.”
“I might have missed one,” he said as they approached the breakfast parlor. “But I do think the supper dance was my favorite.”
Adeline grinned as a blush once again colored her face. “It was mine as well.” She couldn’t say more as three pairs of blurry eyes turned to regard them. “Good morning,” she said before making her way to the sideboard.
Ertugrul greeted the others, an expression of amusement appearing when his gaze stopped on David. “Did you ever go to bed?”
David grimaced. “For a few hours,” he replied, before nearly draining his coffee. “The walk home did me good, though. Gave me time to think.”
“About?” Adeline prompted as she joined them at the table with a plate filled with coddled eggs and toast. A footman delivered a cup of tea and waited for Ertugrul to give his order.
“The Season, I suppose. And how some people were so different while others hadn’t aged a bit,” David said. “I was only gone... three years, two months, and ten days,” he added, remembering Rose’s pointed comment on the matter.
The precise length of his absence had Adeline arching a brow—she knew exactly who had first said those words—but she didn’t say anything in response.
“How was your supper dance?” Ertugrul asked, his dark brows waggling.
“Short,” David replied. “Lady Rose was experiencing some discomfort, so I danced us out of the circle.”
“Is she all right?” Elizabeth asked, tearing her attention from the correspondence that had been delivered earlier that morning.
Before David could answer, Elkins appeared at the door bearing a silver salver with a note on it. He cleared his throat.
“What is it, Elkins?” George asked, looking up from a copy ofThe Times.
“A footman from Ariley Place has delivered a note.”
David and George both gave a start, as if they thought the message might be for them, and they both frowned when the butler added, “For Miss Bennett-Jones.”
“Oh, that will be from Rose,” she said as she plucked the note from the salver. “I invited my wallflower friends for tea this afternoon.”
David furrowed his brows, and Ertugrul noticed, but he merely pretended indifference as Adeline opened and read the short missive.
“Is Lady Rose all right?” Elizabeth asked again.
