Darlington House, St. James's Street.
Morning.
The morning arrived with order.
Breakfast at Darlington House was conducted with the same quiet precision as tea—though with less indulgence and more expectation. Light filtered through tall windows, settling upon polished silver, neatly arranged china, and the faint rustle of recently delivered correspondence.
At the centre of it, a newspaper.
Kurt Darlington held it with the particular stillness of a man who had already read something once and did not entirely trust himself to read it again.
Opposite him, Adelaide sat composed, her posture untroubled, her attention directed—at least outwardly—toward her tea.
Dowager Viscountess Mary Darlington did not yet speak.
Which, as Kurt had learned, meant she was listening.
Carefully.
Kurt lowered the paper.
Slowly.
Then raised it again. "…No," he said.
Adelaide did not look up. "No?"
Kurt exhaled. "This is precisely what I wished to avoid."
Mary's gaze flicked briefly toward the paper.
"Lady Arden's Society Papers?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And?"
Kurt lowered it at last, fixing Adelaide with a look that suggested both disbelief and inevitability. "You are mentioned."
Adelaide inclined her head slightly. "I had anticipated as much."
Kurt blinked. "You anticipated—"
"It is a public event," she said. "Observation is expected."
Kurt stared at her. "Not like this."
Mary extended her hand. "The paper."
Kurt passed it.
She unfolded it with practiced ease, her eyes moving across the printed lines with quiet efficiency.
A pause.
Then
Her brow lifted.
"Sophia was correct," she murmured.
Kurt closed his eyes briefly. "I do not like the direction of this."
Adelaide lifted her cup. "You need not concern yourself."
Kurt looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"
"You need not concern yourself," she repeated. "I will not accept suitors."
A pause.
Then—
"That is not the point," Kurt said.
"It resolves the matter."
"It does not resolve the matter," he returned. "It ignores it."
Adelaide regarded him calmly. "There is nothing to ignore."
Kurt set the paper down with more force than necessary.
"You were seen," he said, "dancing with Jeremy."
"Yes."
"You were discussed."
"That is expected."
"You are now—" he gestured vaguely toward the paper, "—associated."
Adelaide's brow lifted slightly. "With a dance."
"With an Earl."
"With a friend."
"With Jeremy."
Adelaide considered this. "And?"
Kurt stared at her. "And," he said slowly, "I am not particularly fond of the idea of Jeremy—who happens to be my friend—courting you—who happens to be my cousin."
A silence followed.
Not sharp.
But deliberate.
Adelaide set her cup down. "You need not be concerned," she said again.
"I am."
"You need not be."
"I am."
"I will not accept him."
"That is not the point."
Adelaide's expression remained composed. "It is entirely the point."
Kurt exhaled sharply.
"You are missing—"
"I am not missing anything," she said. "You are anticipating incorrectly."
"I am anticipating accurately."
"You are assuming unnecessarily."
"You are dismissing entirely."
"And you," Adelaide returned, "are overreacting."
Kurt stared at her.
Mary folded the paper. Quietly. Deliberately.
Then, "Enough."
Both stopped.
Immediately.
Mary placed the paper beside her cup, her expression composed but no longer merely observant. "You will not," she said, "conduct this discussion as though it were a continuation of yesterday's promenade."
"Yes, Mama."
"Yes, Aunt Mary."
Mary's gaze moved between them. "You," she said to Kurt, "will refrain from assigning intentions where none have yet been declared."
Kurt inclined his head. "Yes, Mama."
"And you," she continued, turning to Adelaide, "will refrain from dismissing consequences simply because they are inconvenient."
Adelaide held her gaze. "Yes, Aunt Mary."
Mary allowed a moment to pass.
Then—
"This," she said, indicating the paper, "is not insignificant."
Adelaide glanced at it. "I am aware."
"You have been noticed."
"That was inevitable."
Mary's brow lifted slightly. "I do not object to inevitability," she said. "Only to carelessness."
Adelaide inclined her head. "I have not been careless."
Mary regarded her. "No," she said. "You have been deliberate."
A pause.
Then—
"Which," she added, "is both an advantage and a risk."
Kurt exhaled quietly. "I do not like this," he muttered.
Mary did not look at him. "That," she said, "is not currently relevant."
Kurt fell silent.
Adelaide lifted her cup once more, her expression unchanged—but her thoughts, perhaps, less so.