She took his hand. ‘Tell me, Adam, do you think of marriage?’
‘Yes—no! I don’t know.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I had thought it sensible, but unfortunately I am having some difficulty in actually deciding to...well, to cross that particular Rubicon. I have had my fill of debutantes. They giggle and simper and talk too much—or not enough. Or they have no opinions. Or they have ill-informed opinions. Or they are...impudent.’
He rose, trying to shake away the memory of one particular young lady, and made an absent-minded study of Lady Annesley’s ormolu clock on the mantel.
‘I must at least consider it, Godmama. It is my duty to marry well. Grandfather almost ruined us, and Papa worried himself into an early grave trying to restore our fortunes. I have made a good start on the estate, but the house has lost some of its warmth since Mama died. It needs a mistress. And Olivia needs female company—someone other than Great-Aunt Clara. Olivia and I argue too much lately. I do not understand what goes on in the mind of a woman!’
‘What do you and Olivia argue about?’
‘She chafes against the restrictions of Chadcombe. She wishes to come out next season, now we are out of mourning, but in truth I cannot stomach the thought of squiring her to dozens of balls and routs. And as for Almack’s—with its orgeat and its gossips—’ He grimaced. ‘I have been trying hard this season to take my place in the Marriage Mart, but the whole game quite disgusts me!’
‘Adam, you have had it your own way for far too long. No, do not show me that face. I am not a debutante, to be slain by your wrathful looks. I am your aunt and your godmother and I shall tell you what I think.’
‘I am all attention, dear Aunt.’
‘You are a good boy, Adam. You work hard with the estate and your interest in politics does you credit. My brother—your poor father—would be proud of you. But you are accustomed to deference, and to having what you want. You have the freedom to go where you will, whenever you wish—to gambling dens, cockfights, boxing matches and other uncouth pursuits if you wish. You have independence. Try to remember Olivia does not.’
‘Olivia is well cared for. My great-aunt—’
‘Clara Langley is too old to be a fitting companion for a young lady. You know I love your mother’s elderly aunt, but she does not wish to go out in society and has no understanding of the needs of a young girl like Olivia.’
‘Which is why I must marry! My...my wife—’ he struggled with the word ‘—will look after Olivia, help her with her come-out and—’
‘But that is not a reason to marry. Why, I could take dear Olivia under my wing.’
‘Come, come, Aunt Sophia. You would hate it after a week. Like me, you are accustomed to independence. Since my uncle died—and I know you grieve deeply for him—you have built a good life as a widow, have you not?’
‘You know me too well. But, Adam, I will do it. If you do not find a lady you truly wish to marry—a lady you love and wish to share your life with—then I will bring Olivia out next season. There!’
He kissed her hand. ‘Best of aunts. I thank you—though I still believe you would detest it. How would you survive Almack’s every week?’
She struggled to answer.
‘Exactly!’
‘Wretch! Now, tell me—what of Harry? His name is being linked with the Buxted girls too, with speculation that he will also marry.’
The Earl considered this, his forehead creased. ‘I cannot say, for Harry no longer confides in me. He enjoys female company, and can flirt and make compliments much easier than I. But I do not know if he thinks of marriage... The wars have changed him, Godmama. Underneath the gaiety, he is still troubled, I think.’
‘He is young. Time will help him forget what he has seen. Now we have peace, and will not be murdered in our beds by Frenchmen, he can enjoy his duties without anxiety. You shake your head—do you disagree with me?’
‘I cannot be easy about Harry. He hides it well, but... I am being foolish, perhaps. Too much time to think and worry and ponder over things. And now this unfortunate mess. I am displeased that my attentions to the Buxted ladies have been noticed—and not just on my own behalf. I should not like to cause distress to any lady—and I should like the freedom to make my choice without an audience watching my every action.’
‘Tell me, have you invited them to Chadcombe? Just the mother and the daughters?’
‘I have—but not just Mrs Buxted and her daughters. The father too. And a relative who is staying with them.’
‘And who is your hostess? Clara?’
‘Yes, she has agreed to host. I know she struggles to manage the house at times, but she assures me she is happy to host this party.’
‘Good. May I advise you?’
‘Of course you may. You are, after all, my favourite aunt.’
‘I am your only aunt. Now, do listen, Adam. Mrs Buxted, from what I know of her, is a vain, silly woman who is ambitious for her daughters. She was Louisa Long before her marriage, and those Longs were always a little... Yes, well, she thinks she has triumphed because of the exclusivity of this invitation to Chadcombe. And, in truth, the exclusivity is what is stirring the gossips. If you have truly only invited them—’
‘Godmother, I thank you. I shall immediately invite a dozen eligible ladies and their families to divert suspicion.’
‘No, not a dozen. Poor Miss Langley—! Ah, you are jesting with me again, I see. Yes, do invite others to Chadcombe. And it would be wise to be seen escorting other young ladies as well—perhaps take one to the theatre with her family. That way, if you do choose to court one in particular, you can do so without giving ammunition to the gossips. But, Adam, listen to me now. Things have changed. In these modern times you do not have to marry out of duty. Better marry for love.’
‘Love?’ He laughed. ‘I have no desire to spout poetry and daydream of a lady’s fine eyes...’
He paused, then shook his head as if to rid himself of something.
‘I just want to find a sensible girl who won’t give me any trouble. I must think of the estate. We are in need of money, so I must marry well. The Buxted family owns Monkton Park, which would be a good addition to Chadcombe, and the mother rather clumsily informed me it is dowried on one of the daughters. On the other hand, Miss Etherington has a large dowry, which would boost our funds. And there is another lady—but I do not know what her fortune is.’
‘But, Adam, you have done well with the estate since your father died. Don’t forget that the woman you marry will be by your side till death parts you. You must think of that when you choose to marry.’
‘My problem, Godmama, is that I have never yet met a lady—apart from you, of course—who did not bore me or irritate me within a month of knowing her. And marrying to suit myself is not an option if it causes harm to my family.’
* * *
The Earl took his leave shortly afterwards, leaving his aunt in pensive mood. She lay down on her sofa again to think. Adam had had relationships with women of a certain class, she knew—for the ton knew everything—but she had never heard of him losing his heart.
He was popular with ladies—the older ones responded to his serious nature, the younger ones liked his handsome face and figure—but he always held a certain reserve. He was used to seeking the company of his friends, and had never, to Sophia’s knowledge, engaged in a true friendship with any lady. Adam, like many men, saw ladies as decorative irritations, to be tolerated and enjoyed.
Some young ladies, Sophia acknowledged, did not help matters with their behaviour. And the Marriage Mart itself encouraged young ladies to flirt and be silly