Jack snorted. Tony fought down a grin. He chatted for a while, then headed back up the ballroom to Alicia, still safe within Adriana’s circle.
Which circle was growing less and less intent as more of those aspiring to Adriana’s attention vis à vis claiming her hand took note of the glances she shared with Geoffrey, and sloped off to pay court to someone else. One gentleman who remained apparently oblivious of the clear firming of Adriana’s intention was Sir Freddie Caudel.
As he drew near, Tony wondered if Sir Freddie was biding his time, perhaps thinking to give Adriana more experience of the ton before making his offer, or if he was instead merely using her as a convenient and unthreatening excuse to avoid all other possible candidates. If the man hadn’t spoken yet…but then, he himself and Geoffrey were of a more direct generation.
Sir Freddie had been conversing with Alicia. He saw Tony approaching, smiled benignly, and excused himself as Tony joined her.
She turned to him, raised a brow. Wariness showed behind the green of her eyes; with an easy smile, he claimed her hand, set it on his sleeve, and inquired if she’d like to stroll.
She agreed, and they did. Because of the many eyes fixed on them courtesy of the story on so many lips, it was impossible to slip away. Resigned, he reminded himself of the true purpose behind their evening’s endeavors and conducted her to chat with the next fashionable lady waiting to have her say.
They caught up with his godmother in the Athelstans’ ballroom. Dispatched to fetch refreshments, he left Alicia seated on the chaise beside Lady Amery and shouldered his way into the crowd.
Alicia watched him go, then drew breath and turned to Lady Amery. “I hope you won’t think me presumptuous, ma’am, but I need advice, and as the person most nearly concerned is Torrington…”
She and Lady Amery were alone on the small chaise; there was no one else close enough to hear—and she might never have another such opportunity to ask the one person in London who held Tony’s welfare closest to her heart.
Lady Amery had turned to her; now she smiled radiantly. Reaching for Alicia’s hands, she clasped them in hers. “My dear, I’d be delighted to help in any way I can.”
Alicia steeled herself to see that sentiment change in the next minutes. Lifting her head, she confessed, “Torrington has asked that I and my household move into his house in Upper Brook Street—his widowed cousin and her daughters will be staying there, too.”
Lady Amery’s gaze grew distant as she considered, then she refocused on Alicia’s face. “Bon. Yes, I can see that that would be much more comfortable, especially for him, what with this latest brouhaha.” Her eyes twinkled, then, reading Alicia’s troubled expression, she grew serious. “But you do not wish this? Would it be difficult to move to Upper Brook Street?”
Alicia stared into her ladyship’s transparently sincere eyes. Blinked. “No…that is…” She dragged in a breath. “I just don’t want to do anything to give the gossips food for slander—I don’t want inadvertently to do anything to damage his name or his standing.”
Lady Amery’s concerned expression dissolved into smiles. She patted Alicia’s hand. “It is very right that you think of such things—such sentiments do you credit—but I assure you in this case, there is nothing to concern you. The ton understands such matters—oui, vraiment.” She nodded encouragingly. “There will be no adverse repercussions to your moving to Upper Brook Street in such circumstances.”
The assurance with which she made the statement put the matter beyond argument.
Her expression easing, the weight on her shoulders lightening, Alicia smiled and let herself accept it. Despite her worries, her reservations, everyone—absolutely everyone—insisted Tony’s suggestion was not only sound, but an outcome to be desired.
Despite that… she said nothing when he returned bearing glasses of champagne. Lady Amery claimed his attention and chatted animatedly about shared acquaintances, to Alicia’s relief making no allusion to their discussion or her advice.
Finally, the long evening drew to a close, and they headed home. Geoffrey held to his new habit and accompanied them to their door; Tony, as usual, stayed with them beyond it.
In her bedchamber, they undressed—in silence. She felt herself tensing, waiting for him to ask her again, to press his case… instead, he said nothing. She climbed into the big bed; he pinched out the candle, and joined her beneath the covers.
He reached for her, drew her to him, then hesitated. In the dimness, he looked at her face. “You’re still considering?”
There was no hint of a frown, of irritation or impatience in his voice; he simply wanted to know.
“Yes.” She held his gaze. “But I haven’t yet made up my mind.”
She felt him sigh, then he tightened his hold on her, lowered his head. “We can discuss it in the morning.”
When she awoke the next morning, however, he’d already left her bed. She lay staring at the canopy as minutes, then half an hour ticked by, then she sighed and rose.
Washed, gowned, her hair severely coiled, she headed downstairs.
Pausing in the doorway of the dining parlor, she studied the back of Tony’s broad shoulders; she wasn’t surprised to find him there, in the chair at the end of the table.
Her brothers saw her and turned; Tony glanced around and rose as she entered. Going past him, she waved him back to his seat, exchanged greetings with her brothers and Adriana—then, to Adriana’s amusement, remembered to bid their guest a good morning, too.
He returned it with aplomb, recommending the kedgeree. She poured herself a cup of tea, then rose and crossed to the sideboard. She made her selections, all the while conscious of her brothers’ whispers, of the anticipation welling, notch by notch, around the table.
Calmly, she returned to her chair, set down her plate, then sat, thanking Maggs, who held the chair for her.
That done, she picked up her fork—and looked around the table.