Lord Aldershot slightly away from the central group.
"Did I hear you mention Mrs. Nesbitt earlier?" he said, keeping his tone indifferent, as though the matter were of no real consequence. "An attractive woman, is she not?"
"I should say so," Aldershot replied with enthusiasm. "Danced with her last night at Yarmouth House. Thinking of calling on her. Keep in her good graces and all that."
"Ah. So you have an interest in that quarter?"
"Possibly. Pretty woman, Mrs. Nesbitt. Was just saying to these chaps that she never seemed approachable before, but last night there was something about her. The way she smiled. Something, I don't know. Thought perhaps she was finally through being the grieving widow. Oh, I say. You were a friend to Nesbitt, were you not?"
"Indeed, he was my closest friend. His widow is still my friend."
"Then tell me, is she on the lookout for a new husband this Season? Is that why she seemed so amiable? For if she is, then I'll think twice about paying a call. Don't mind telling you that I ain't looking for leg shackle just yet. But if it's just a bit of company she's after," he said with a grin and a poke in Adam's ribs, "then I'm her man."
Adam controlled the instinct to plant the fellow a facer, and decided to take advantage of his candid request. "Mrs. Nesbitt is a highly respectable widow, Aldershot, and not the sort of woman interested in a bit of dalliance. But it has been over two years since Nesbitt's death, and I believe she might be ready to consider another marriage. In fact, when I told her of my own betrothal, she mentioned how she hoped she could make a similar announcement by the end of the Season."
"Did she, by Jove? Then it was prodigious good luck I ran into you, Cazenove. That bit of intelligence will save me a great deal of awkwardness. Much obliged, old chap." He took Adam's hand and pumped it vigorously. "Much obliged."
Adam took his leave of the cardroom, feeling rather smug. It had been the easiest thing in the world to dissuade Aldershot from pursuing Marianne, even if it did involve the tiniest bit of prevarication. And she need never know why his lordship flew out of her orbit. He'd only done it, of course, because the man's attitude was disrespectful. Adam was willing to allow Marianne her quest, but he would be damned before he'd allow some vulgar nincompoop to get past her bedroom door. If only he could do the same with every other unworthy gentleman who'd shown an interest, he would feel he'd done a good day's work in upholding his promise to David to look after her.
When he went downstairs and passed through the morning room, more gentlemen came over to offer congratulations on his upcoming nuptials. Even the bow window set strolled over to pay their respects.
"Fortunate fellow," Lord Worcester said. "You've made off with the prettiest girl on the Marriage Mart. Quite a coup, Cazenove, you dog."
"She'll keep you nice and warm at night," Lord Alvanley said. "Lucky devil. Hey, Fitzwilliam. Did you not once pen a sonnet to Miss Leighton-Blair's eyes?"
Trevor Fitzwilliam strolled languidly from his seat in the window to join them. Another of Marianne's candidates. The damned place was teeming with them.
"That was last Season," Fitzwilliam said in a drawl dripping with fashionable ennui. "A lifetime ago. The lovely Clarissa was fair game then. Not to worry, Cazenove. I do not carry a torch. I'll be sending my poor scribblings to someone else this Season."
"I am glad to hear it," Adam said. "Anyone we know?"
"As a matter of fact, I believe she is well-known to you. The beautiful Marianne Nesbitt."
"Mrs. Nesbitt?" Alvanley said. "One of the patronesses of those charity balls? Never knew you went for respectable widows, Fitz. Would have thought her a bit too tight-laced for your taste."
"Her laces were not so tight when I danced with her last night," Fitzwilliam said. "Her smile was so warm I almost broke out in an embarrassing sweat. And she moves like an angel on
"Did I hear you mention Mrs. Nesbitt earlier?" he said, keeping his tone indifferent, as though the matter were of no real consequence. "An attractive woman, is she not?"
"I should say so," Aldershot replied with enthusiasm. "Danced with her last night at Yarmouth House. Thinking of calling on her. Keep in her good graces and all that."
"Ah. So you have an interest in that quarter?"
"Possibly. Pretty woman, Mrs. Nesbitt. Was just saying to these chaps that she never seemed approachable before, but last night there was something about her. The way she smiled. Something, I don't know. Thought perhaps she was finally through being the grieving widow. Oh, I say. You were a friend to Nesbitt, were you not?"
"Indeed, he was my closest friend. His widow is still my friend."
"Then tell me, is she on the lookout for a new husband this Season? Is that why she seemed so amiable? For if she is, then I'll think twice about paying a call. Don't mind telling you that I ain't looking for leg shackle just yet. But if it's just a bit of company she's after," he said with a grin and a poke in Adam's ribs, "then I'm her man."
Adam controlled the instinct to plant the fellow a facer, and decided to take advantage of his candid request. "Mrs. Nesbitt is a highly respectable widow, Aldershot, and not the sort of woman interested in a bit of dalliance. But it has been over two years since Nesbitt's death, and I believe she might be ready to consider another marriage. In fact, when I told her of my own betrothal, she mentioned how she hoped she could make a similar announcement by the end of the Season."
"Did she, by Jove? Then it was prodigious good luck I ran into you, Cazenove. That bit of intelligence will save me a great deal of awkwardness. Much obliged, old chap." He took Adam's hand and pumped it vigorously. "Much obliged."
Adam took his leave of the cardroom, feeling rather smug. It had been the easiest thing in the world to dissuade Aldershot from pursuing Marianne, even if it did involve the tiniest bit of prevarication. And she need never know why his lordship flew out of her orbit. He'd only done it, of course, because the man's attitude was disrespectful. Adam was willing to allow Marianne her quest, but he would be damned before he'd allow some vulgar nincompoop to get past her bedroom door. If only he could do the same with every other unworthy gentleman who'd shown an interest, he would feel he'd done a good day's work in upholding his promise to David to look after her.
When he went downstairs and passed through the morning room, more gentlemen came over to offer congratulations on his upcoming nuptials. Even the bow window set strolled over to pay their respects.
"Fortunate fellow," Lord Worcester said. "You've made off with the prettiest girl on the Marriage Mart. Quite a coup, Cazenove, you dog."
"She'll keep you nice and warm at night," Lord Alvanley said. "Lucky devil. Hey, Fitzwilliam. Did you not once pen a sonnet to Miss Leighton-Blair's eyes?"
Trevor Fitzwilliam strolled languidly from his seat in the window to join them. Another of Marianne's candidates. The damned place was teeming with them.
"That was last Season," Fitzwilliam said in a drawl dripping with fashionable ennui. "A lifetime ago. The lovely Clarissa was fair game then. Not to worry, Cazenove. I do not carry a torch. I'll be sending my poor scribblings to someone else this Season."
"I am glad to hear it," Adam said. "Anyone we know?"
"As a matter of fact, I believe she is well-known to you. The beautiful Marianne Nesbitt."
"Mrs. Nesbitt?" Alvanley said. "One of the patronesses of those charity balls? Never knew you went for respectable widows, Fitz. Would have thought her a bit too tight-laced for your taste."
"Her laces were not so tight when I danced with her last night," Fitzwilliam said. "Her smile was so warm I almost broke out in an embarrassing sweat. And she moves like an angel on
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