occurred.
“So you know how Harold and I met,” Adele said, recalling her curiosity about this man the night before when she had watched him falling asleep. “Now tell me a little about yourself, Lord Alcester. You wear no wedding ring. Howhave you managed to avoid marriage for so long?”
It was a bold question, she knew, but she didn’t feel quite herself. This was not her life, she supposed. It was “Adele on an Adventure.”
“It’s been no small feat, I assure you,” he replied. “Both my aunt and my grandmother would like to see me attached as soon as possible, and they become more and more determined each year. I predict my aunt and your mother will get along famously. They’ll be two kindred spirits, matchmaking to their heart’s delight.”
Adele imagined what his life was like as an English nobleman, where a sense of duty was probably fed into his veins from infancy onward. “I suppose it’s your goal in life, isn’t it, to make a good marriage and produce heirs?”
Good God. Produce heirs? She was feeling bold, not scandalous. Perhaps she’d had too much wine.
“Yes, exactly. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I had best get to it. I’m not getting any younger.” With a wicked grin that made her squirm in her chair, he picked up the bottle and tipped it over her glass, but she firmly held up a hand.
“No, thank you, I’ve had enough. Please feel free to finish it.”
He didn’t argue. He poured the rest of the wine into his own glass and took another sip. He didn’t seem the least bit affected by it. Quite unlike herself.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “I adore myaunt and grandmother, and nothing would please me more than to make them happy, but I have yet to discover the one woman who makes me…” He paused. The candlelight flickered between them. “The one who makes me want to be a husband. I don’t want to marry just anyone and be miserable. That doesn’t do anyone any good.”
“Well, happiness is indeed an important thing to consider,” she said, feeling a great need to bring her fiancé into this conversation. “ Harold , for instance, has made me indescribably happy on so many occasions.”
“Has he indeed? In what way, may I ask? Perhaps I should consult him in matters of romance. It sounds as if he could provide some helpful advice.”
Adele stared at the electrifying glimmer in his eyes that almost seemed to challenge her. She noticed suddenly that they were both leaning forward with their elbows on the table. She sat back and couldn’t help reaching for her wine again.
“I hardly think you need advice, my lord. I know about your reputation with women.” She surprised herself with that comment.
“Do you, now? Where in the world would you hear such a thing? Does news like that reach America?”
“My sister told me. She mentioned it in a letter when Harold was still in America.”
“Well.” He took a deep swig of wine, then casually shrugged.
“You’re not denying it,” Adele said, shocked in some ways, but not in others. Lord Alcester didn’t seem all that concerned with what was proper. He was like no one she’d ever met.
“No, I am not denying it, because it’s all true. I am without a doubt the worst scoundrel in London. You had best keep your distance.”
He smiled with riveting splendor, and boom , there it was in full force. The pounding allure that her sister had described, and she herself had witnessed on so many occasions leading up to this one. The sweet, seductive power that even Adele—inexperienced as she was with men—could recognize. The very qualities that made him notorious. A strangely pleasant, dizzying haze moved over her thoughts as she stared at him.
The server came and took their plates away. As soon as she was gone, Adele became aware of her heart beating shockingly fast. An unfamiliar thrill was rippling through her veins.
She didn’t like it.
Feeling shaken by her body’s response to Lord Alcester,
“So you know how Harold and I met,” Adele said, recalling her curiosity about this man the night before when she had watched him falling asleep. “Now tell me a little about yourself, Lord Alcester. You wear no wedding ring. Howhave you managed to avoid marriage for so long?”
It was a bold question, she knew, but she didn’t feel quite herself. This was not her life, she supposed. It was “Adele on an Adventure.”
“It’s been no small feat, I assure you,” he replied. “Both my aunt and my grandmother would like to see me attached as soon as possible, and they become more and more determined each year. I predict my aunt and your mother will get along famously. They’ll be two kindred spirits, matchmaking to their heart’s delight.”
Adele imagined what his life was like as an English nobleman, where a sense of duty was probably fed into his veins from infancy onward. “I suppose it’s your goal in life, isn’t it, to make a good marriage and produce heirs?”
Good God. Produce heirs? She was feeling bold, not scandalous. Perhaps she’d had too much wine.
“Yes, exactly. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I had best get to it. I’m not getting any younger.” With a wicked grin that made her squirm in her chair, he picked up the bottle and tipped it over her glass, but she firmly held up a hand.
“No, thank you, I’ve had enough. Please feel free to finish it.”
He didn’t argue. He poured the rest of the wine into his own glass and took another sip. He didn’t seem the least bit affected by it. Quite unlike herself.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “I adore myaunt and grandmother, and nothing would please me more than to make them happy, but I have yet to discover the one woman who makes me…” He paused. The candlelight flickered between them. “The one who makes me want to be a husband. I don’t want to marry just anyone and be miserable. That doesn’t do anyone any good.”
“Well, happiness is indeed an important thing to consider,” she said, feeling a great need to bring her fiancé into this conversation. “ Harold , for instance, has made me indescribably happy on so many occasions.”
“Has he indeed? In what way, may I ask? Perhaps I should consult him in matters of romance. It sounds as if he could provide some helpful advice.”
Adele stared at the electrifying glimmer in his eyes that almost seemed to challenge her. She noticed suddenly that they were both leaning forward with their elbows on the table. She sat back and couldn’t help reaching for her wine again.
“I hardly think you need advice, my lord. I know about your reputation with women.” She surprised herself with that comment.
“Do you, now? Where in the world would you hear such a thing? Does news like that reach America?”
“My sister told me. She mentioned it in a letter when Harold was still in America.”
“Well.” He took a deep swig of wine, then casually shrugged.
“You’re not denying it,” Adele said, shocked in some ways, but not in others. Lord Alcester didn’t seem all that concerned with what was proper. He was like no one she’d ever met.
“No, I am not denying it, because it’s all true. I am without a doubt the worst scoundrel in London. You had best keep your distance.”
He smiled with riveting splendor, and boom , there it was in full force. The pounding allure that her sister had described, and she herself had witnessed on so many occasions leading up to this one. The sweet, seductive power that even Adele—inexperienced as she was with men—could recognize. The very qualities that made him notorious. A strangely pleasant, dizzying haze moved over her thoughts as she stared at him.
The server came and took their plates away. As soon as she was gone, Adele became aware of her heart beating shockingly fast. An unfamiliar thrill was rippling through her veins.
She didn’t like it.
Feeling shaken by her body’s response to Lord Alcester,