in her. I think the woman you would marry has yet to be born.’
Adam laughed and shook his head. ‘I dare say you are right. I am a sight too particular—but the whole notion of it fills me with disgust. Why should I marry simply for the sake of a fortune?’
Jenny glanced over her shoulder at the young men who were so deep in their amusing conversation that they were completely unaware she’d heard every word. The coxcomb! The young man who was so hard to please was indeed handsome, but not above ordinary height. His hair was dark, almost black, and his eyes bright blue. He must have a high opinion of himself if none of the young ladies here this evening could please him. Jenny knew of six young women present that evening who were considerable heiresses and each of them had something to recommend them.
Miss Maddingly was blonde and extremely pretty in a delicate way. Miss Rowbottom was as dark as her friend was fair with rather striking eyebrows. Miss Saunders was a redhead and much admired. Miss Headingly-Jones was another blonde, with large blue eyes; Miss Hatton was not as beautiful as the others, but still attractive, and Miss Pearce was unfortunately a little squint-eyed, but her twenty thousand pounds should make her acceptable to most. What did the particular young man want in his future wife? Was he above being pleased?
His eyes seemed to rest on her for a moment and then passed on. Jenny frowned and moved further into the crush.
* * *
It was several minutes before she reached her aunt, who looked up and smiled vaguely at her.
‘Fontleroy was looking for you earlier, my love. I think he meant to ask you to dance, but could not get near you for the crush.’
‘It is exceedingly warm in here this evening, Aunt,’ Jenny said. ‘I met Lucy Dawlish. They go home next week and I have been invited to stay for some weeks—until after her wedding.’
‘Indeed?’ Mrs Martha Hastings frowned for a moment. ‘I was not aware her engagement had been announced. Well, I dare say it will be good company for you, Jenny. Lady Dawlish entertains only the best people and you must be flattered to be asked. I dare say you may meet a suitable gentleman in her company—and the marquis may post down to visit you if he chooses.’
‘Lucy’s engagement is not yet announced, but her friends know she is to marry Mark Ravenscar. I’ve met him only once, but he seems pleasant.’
‘If you would but consider Fontleroy, you might be engaged yourself.’
Jenny sighed. She had tried on several occasions to make her aunt understand that she would never consider marriage to Fontleroy. Had she not a penny to her name she would prefer to work for her living as a governess or a companion. Being a paid companion could not be worse than living with Mrs Hastings.
‘I have a little headache, Aunt. Do you think we could leave soon?’
‘Well, it is very warm this evening,’ her aunt agreed. ‘Go and put on your pelisse, my love. We shall leave as soon as the carriage may be sent for.’
Jenny did not need to be told twice. She decided that it was easier to quit the room by keeping to the perimeter rather than trying to cross it. As she reached the door that led to the hall, which led up to the room provided for ladies to change, she caught sight of the gentlemen who had been discussing the heiresses earlier. One of them was dancing with a very pretty young woman, but the other—the particular gentleman—was standing frowning at the company as if nothing and no one pleased him. What a disagreeable young man he must be.
For a moment their eyes met across the room and his narrowed. Seeing a flicker of something in those relentless eyes, Jenny put her head in the air and turned her back. She had no wish to be the object of his interest even for a moment!
* * *
Adam’s eyes moved about the room, picking out the various young ladies who had been recommended to him. They were all very well in their way—to dance with any one of them would be a pleasure—but the very idea of having to court a young lady for her fortune made his stomach turn. It was quite unfair of the earl to expect it of him. That it was expected had become ever more plain since Adam’s return from the war.
‘So you managed to escape death or crippling injury this time, Adam,’ the earl had said in a voice of displeasure. ‘Do I need to remind you of what might have happened had you been killed? It is time you set up your nursery, my boy. Unless you give me heirs the title will pass into oblivion—and that prospect causes me pain. We have been earls since the time of the Conqueror. To lose the title or the estate would be equally painful to me. Do you mean to oblige me by marrying an heiress or not?’
‘I do not wish to disoblige you, Grandfather,’ Adam said, ‘yet I would crave your indulgence a little longer. I would at least marry a young woman I can admire if nothing more.’
‘Well, well,’ the earl said tolerantly. ‘There is time enough yet, but I do not have many years left to me. I should like to know the estate and the succession were safe.’
Adam had left his grandfather’s estate and journeyed to London. It was his first appearance in the drawing rooms of society for a while. He had been away for some years, like many young men now returned from the wars. Adam knew that several of his friends were seeking young women of fortune. His was not the only estate to be encumbered with mortgages and in danger of sinking into extinction.
Had he seen a young lady who caught his attention he would have done his best to court her, even though the whole idea filled him with repugnance. To be seeking a wife for her fortune was not what Adam would have wished for given his choice. Indeed, he had not yet made up his mind to it. He had been invited to stay at Ravenscar for Mark’s wedding and would do so, but before that he hoped to have some sport. There was an important meeting at Newmarket the following week and it was Adam’s intention to attend.
A wry smile touched his mouth. If he could but place a lucky bet and win the stake he needed to improve his grandfather’s fortunes, it would save the need for a distasteful decision. He was about to leave the ballroom when he saw a young woman regarding him from the far end of the room. Her expression was one of extreme disapproval. For a moment he wondered what he could have done to upset her—to his certain knowledge he had never met the young lady.
He had time to notice that she had particularly fine eyes and a soft mouth before she turned away and left the room. She was not one of the notable heiresses pointed out to him that evening by his obliging friends. By the plain look of her attire and her lack of ostentatious jewellery, he doubted that she was one of those rare females. However, her reddish-brown hair and delicate complexion was out of the ordinary. She certainly had the beauty he’d jokingly demanded that his heiress ought to have and there had been intelligence in those eyes—but she probably did not have a fortune.
So much the better, if Adam had his way, but he had promised his grandfather that he would at least attempt to attach an heiress. Glancing at the least displeasing of the young ladies he knew to be on the catch for a title, Adam breathed deeply and began to swathe a path through the crush of people.
The least he could do was to ask Miss Maddingly to dance...
* * *
‘You cannot leave before Lady Braxton’s dance,’ Mrs Hastings said firmly. ‘Your friends can certainly spare you a few days longer. You will oblige me in this, Jenny. Your uncle will send you down to Dawlish in his own carriage at the end of the week.’
‘But, Aunt, if I leave tomorrow I may travel with Lucy and save my uncle the expense.’
‘You speak as if your uncle would grudge the expense,’ her aunt said and shook her head. ‘I know you cannot be so very ungrateful as to refuse me this request, Jenny. Neither your uncle or I have asked anything of you before this—and I really think you must attend the dance, for my word was given.’
Jenny gave up the argument. She knew Aunt Martha would end in a fit of vexation if she refused to accept her wish upon the matter. Much as she would have liked to travel with her friend, she could not insist on it—though her uncle’s lumbering