Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(16)

Westsea arched a brow. “Northumberland is wild, but not uncivilized. We leave that to the Scots. Thank you,” he said as he took the glass. “My wife is quite pleased with London, however. And Alice has taken me to her favorite spots—the Tower of London, of course, being one of them. She takes unholy delight in its gruesome history.”

“It is not so very gruesome, Father,” Alice protested. “Although Henry’s wives might disagree,” she added after a thoughtful pause.

There was true affection between father and daughter, Nick realized. He smiled and glanced at Adelaide. But she was not smiling. She was, in fact, near tears. Her lower lip quivered, and her eyes were suspiciously bright.

Perhaps she did not enjoy the Tower? But she liked Gothic tales. Although, to be sure, she might not have visited the Tower with her family. Westsea had spoken of his wife and Alice, but not of Adelaide.

He stepped in front of her, maneuvering their positions so that she was hidden behind the large frame of his body.

“Miss Bursnell, I believe we were discussing the unpleasantness of female novelists at the ball the other night, but we were interrupted by your untimely faint.”

She blinked up at him. They had not been discussing any such thing.

“Perhaps we could continue our conversation?” he suggested mildly. “You were saying something about the female mind being incapable of grasping proper sentence structure.” He smiled benignly at her.

Her eyes narrowed. “I most certainly did not say that. There are several novels, in fact, that would prove the opposite point.”

“Indeed?” He reached around her for the wine and poured a glass, which he offered to her. “Would you care to enlighten me, then?”

She stared at the glass of wine he pressed into her hand, his own hand still atop hers. Her fingers twitched beneath his. Her cheeks were flushed, but she no longer seemed in danger of crying.

“Fanny Burney is an excellent example,” she said. “Maria Edgeworth is another.”

“Which is your favorite?” he asked, releasing both her hand and the wine.

She looked up, her dark eyes searching his intently.

“Tell me,” he said quietly.

“Maria Edgeworth’s Belinda is lovely and brilliant. I cannot find a single fault with it, other than it changed so much from the first printing to the last.”

“What are you speaking of over there?” his mother’s voice cut in.

Nick turned, shifting his stance so Adelaide was no longer hidden. All eyes were now on them, except for Lord Westsea, who was studying his glass. “Books and things. Miss Bursnell is an avid reader.”

“Ah.” His mother regarded them thoughtfully. “Well, then. Shall we go in to dinner?”

Nick turned to Adelaide, but before he could speak, Nathaniel stepped forward, offering his arm. “May I see you in?”

Hell, no.

Nick did not care that rules of society dictated that the eldest son escort the eldest daughter. Such rules need not apply in their own home, especially with an engaged couple. Nick grabbed his brother by his coat tails and hauled him back a step. “That one is not yours,” he hissed in his ear.

Nathaniel shot him an amused look and shook his head. But he changed course and offered his arm to Alice, instead. “Perhaps we need not follow tradition? Our parents will understand that I wish to sit next to you at dinner. We are engaged, after all.”

Freesia tilted her head as she looked at Nathaniel and then Nick. “We are an uneven number. How dreadful. But perhaps, as Nate said, we should break with tradition. It is just family and there is no reason for us to follow every formality. You will not be shocked, then, if I offer you my arm, Miss Bursnell? We can escort each other in to dinner. I should like to sit next to you. And I must say, I am a most excellent dinner companion myself.”

Adelaide curtsied and took her arm. Her lashes were lowered to hide her eyes, but Nick saw her lips twitching with suppressed mirth. “You do me such an honor, Lady Freesia.”

“Indeed.”

The families entered the dining room in pairs, first Lord and Lady Wintham, then Lord and Lady Westsea, followed by Nathaniel and Alice and Freesia with Adelaide. Nick came last, and he came alone.

Naturally.

He glared at Freesia’s back as she rounded the elegant table with Adelaide. It should have been him escorting her, damn it. Instead, he took his seat next to Nathaniel, shifting his brother to the side in order to claim the chair directly across from Adelaide.

Bowls of steaming split pea soup were placed before them, and Nick sniffed the air appreciatively. Pea soup had been his favorite as a child.

He noticed Adelaide’s lips move in an inaudible expression of thanks as the footman served her. That was her way. No one was beneath her notice, not even a servant.

Beside him, Nathaniel wrinkled his nose as he stared in distaste at the bright green liquid in front of him. His brother, Nick suddenly remembered, had never been overly fond of pea soup.

“Shall we switch bowls?” he offered. “The heir to an earldom can never be too careful with his food.”

Nathaniel’s look of guilt was quickly followed by one of annoyance. “Don’t be ridiculous. You would never have been able to poison my soup without poisoning everyone else’s, as well.”

Nick arched a brow. “Of course I could.”