Society is no comfort
To one not sociable.
—Cymbeline, act 4, scene 2
News of the Earl of Greyhawke’s arrival in London spread across the Town like a whirlwind. Within a few days, Adam had more invitations to dinners, card parties, and balls than he could possibly attend. He’d discounted them all until the one that had arrived earlier in the day. Luckily, some of his new clothing had arrived, too.
Tonight was his first foray back into the social world of the ton in over two years. A part of him was looking forward to the activity surrounding London’s Society Season after living in solitude for so long. While he’d been satisfied with his quiet life in Yorkshire, the isolated existence had often been lonely; but at the time, he supposed, he’d needed it to be that. However, it was no existence for a child to learn how to grow up to be a gentleman.
Adam left his hat, cloak, and gloves with the attendant at the front door of the Duke of Quillsbury’s home and sauntered down the corridor to the room where the music, laughter, and chatter were coming from. He stood at the entranceway and stared out over the sea of swirling, colorful skirts, black coats, and white shirts. He scoured the faces in the room. All the furniture had been removed except for a few chairs lined up against the wall. He didn’t see Bray or Harrison, but he noticed several other faces he knew in the swarm of people.
Adam had missed two Seasons, but it didn’t look as though anything had changed. The widows, dowagers, and spinsters sat in chairs near the dance floor. The older gentlemen stood in groups of three and four, talking, laughing, and eyeing every female who passed. Young ladies chatted behind their hands and fans, while all the eligible bachelors looked them up and down with long, approving glances.
He smiled to himself. Yes, now that he was here, he knew there were things about London he’d missed. And there were things about London he was looking forward to enjoying again.
“Adam, this is a surprise.”
He turned to see Bray coming up behind him.
“I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought your first outing in London would be when we meet at the Heirs’ Club.”
Adam greeted Bray and said, “I thought so, too, but when the invitation to the duke’s dinner and my first new clothing arrived this morning, I couldn’t resist the temptation.”
Bray looked around the room. “Good, but I thought we’d have a chance to talk again before you attended any of the parties.”
That was a strange thing for him to say, Adam thought, but he smiled and answered, “Are you saying I should have come to see you before anyone else?”
“No. Yes. Maybe. Have you spoken to anyone yet?”
Adam didn’t know if he was being overly suspicious or if Bray was really acting a little strange. “I just arrived. Why?”
“No reason.” Bray stopped and laughed. “I just arrived, too.”
“I was looking to see how many faces I recognize.”
“Most of them, I’d venture to say. I should have known the Duke of Quillsbury’s dinner party would be your first evening out. No doubt you remember he has the best cook in all of London.”
“I remember well. That’s why I’m here. After too many meals of mutton stew the past couple of years, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to dine at the duke’s table once again when the invitation came this afternoon.”
“And drink his wine,” Bray added.
Adam grinned. “Without a doubt.”
“Why don’t we go get a drink? The table is on the other side of the dance floor.”
Adam was about to turn when from over Bray’s shoulder he saw Harrison taking off his cloak at the front door. Adam’s eyes narrowed and he was suddenly washed with a feeling that something wasn’t quite right. “I see Harrison has just arrived. And he’s alone. I wonder why his wife isn’t with him.”
Bray looked down the corridor but didn’t respond to Adam as Harrison walked up and greeted them.
Harrison glanced at Bray before saying, “This is a surprise, my friend. We didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“So Bray just said,” Adam commented cautiously. “And I’m wondering why.” Just as during their brief visit to his house a few days ago, something didn’t feel right between his friends. Adam looked at Bray. “Where is Louisa?” And to Harrison he said, “Where is Angelina?”
“Home,” they answered one after the other.
Dinner at the Duke of Quillsbury’s house was a sought-after invitation each year. Bray’s and Harrison’s wives wouldn’t miss it unless there was a very good reason.
Adam frowned. “What’s this? Both of you here and your wives not by your sides?”
Bray and Harrison looked at each other again, and Adam didn’t like the signals they were sending each other.
“Why aren’t they here?”
Harrison shifted his stance. Bray avoided Adam’s eyes and sipped his drink.
Neither man spoke.
“Someone had better start talking right now,” Adam said.
“Oh, hellfire,” Harrison muttered. “We tried to tell you the other afternoon and we just didn’t know how.”
Adam stiffened. “Tell me what?”
Bray sighed. “Both Louisa and Angelina are with child and not attending the Season.”
The words hit Adam like a horse kick to the stomach, but he was sure he masked it well. “Both of them?” he asked with a steady voice. “At the same time?”
Harrison nodded. “It’s not like we planned it to happen this way. It just did.”
“Louisa and I were shocked,” Bray added. “We’ve been married almost two years, we were beginning to wonder if … well…” He let his words die away.
“Why didn’t you tell me this the other day when you were at my house?”
“I wanted to,” Bray said. “Harrison thought we should give you another day to get settled, so we decided to go see you and decide after we got there if it would be a good time to tell you.”
“Then we met Dixon and you said he was your heir and that you’d never marry again and have a son. We just couldn’t bring ourselves to do it.”
Adam had suspected something was wrong that afternoon, but he’d let the uneasy feeling pass, thinking it was because he’d been gone from London so long. They were his friends, they were—“Cowards,” he accused. “You were both cowards.”
“Hell, no,” Bray said.
“Those are fighting words, Adam,” Harrison said calmly.
He knew it, but he added, “If you think you can take me, we’ll step outside right now.”
“That’s enough of that from both of you,” Bray said. “What Harrison told you is true, Adam. We didn’t know how to tell you about our wives after what you went through. We didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”
Adam wasn’t sure what he was feeling except that they should have told him. “When the hell were you going to let me know? Or were you hoping someone else might tell me and save you the trouble?”
“That’s not true. You know us. We thought we’d have a few drinks at the Heirs’ Club and then tell you. We were trying to be kind.”
“Just the way we have been since Annie died.”
Startled, Adam blinked. That was the first time he’d heard her name spoken out loud in over two years.
His throat thickened and suddenly his mind swirled with images and sounds he thought he’d buried for good. He saw Annie lying in bed, drenched in sweat, gasping for every breath. He’d watched her shriek in pain, swearing she hated him for planting the babe inside her. He’d listened to her beg him to save her life, to save her baby’s life. He’d heard her screams until he’d thought he’d go insane from the helplessness he’d felt.
Damn, he’d tried. He’d called in every doctor and apothecary in London to help her. And later, near the end, she’d pleaded with him to cut the baby from her and end her life.
Adam … Adam …
He swallowed hard. The damning, unwanted images from the past faded from his thoughts.
“You have to know telling you about our wives was hard for us,” Bray said in a low voice as a couple of young ladies walked very slowly past them.
“Damn hard,” Harrison admitted under his breath. “But, all right, we’ve admitted we should have told you that afternoon at your house.”
“Hell, no, you should have written the minute you knew.” Adam looked from Bray to Harrison. “Did you think I wouldn’t be happy for you?”
“Of course not,” Harrison said.
“That’s not it at all,” Bray added. “We didn’t want to—I don’t know. Just take our word for it that it wasn’t easy to tell you our wives are expecting a babe when you lost yours.”
“If I hadn’t come to London, when were you going to tell me?” he asked crossly.
“After the babes were born,” Harrison admitted.
“And we knew everything was all right,” Bray finished. “Adam, I know what hell you went through with Annie those three days. Remember, I was there with you.”
Adam remembered.
Bray’s mouth thinned in a grimace. He touched Adam’s shoulder, but Adam shrugged it off and turned away.
“I’m fine,” he said, but he wasn’t. They were his friends and he was happy for them. They deserved sons, but he was worried for them, too. Bray and Harrison were built like him. Tall, with wide, muscular shoulders. What if their wives had the same problem Annie had and couldn’t deliver the babe?
Adam wanted a drink. He turned to head for the beverage table and his gaze lighted on a tall, slender young lady staring at the dance floor. She wasn’t smiling as though enjoying the lively dancers. Her expression was more one of wistfulness. It almost spoke of envy. But why would a stunning beauty have reason to envy anyone?
The neckline of her pale pink gown swept low, showing a gentle swell of enticing breasts. A flowing, frothy skirt seemed to flutter down her legs. Her carriage was straight, but not rigid. Expressive eyes, small nose, and shapely lips all came together beautifully, making a lovely face. But standing there with no one else near her, watching the dancers, she looked very much the way he felt at the moment—totally alone. And suddenly he sensed there were emotions deep inside her that were also in him.
Adam glanced at Bray, nodded in the young lady’s direction, and said, “What’s her name?”
“Miss Katherine Wright. Niece to our host. She made her debut a couple of years ago.”
“I’m going to ask her to dance,” Adam said, and turned away.
“No, wait,” Bray said. “Don’t do that.”
Harrison grabbed his arm as he passed and tried to hold him. “Adam, stop. Not her.”
Adam shrugged off his friend’s grasp and kept walking.