The Most Eligible Lord in London

Book 1: Lords of London

by Ella Quinn

Genres: Historical Fiction; Women's Fiction; Regency Romance

Synopsis

In this captivating new Regency trilogy, bestselling author Ella Quinn picks up where her beloved Worthingtons series left off, as three Lords of London discover true love at last . . .

Handsome, rakish, incorrigibly flirtatious—Fredrick, Lord Littleton, is notorious. Lady Adeline Wivenly is resolved to keep him at arm's length during her first Season—until she overhears another woman's plot to trick him into marriage. Even a rogue is undeserving of such deception, and Adeline feels obliged to warn him—only to find herself perilously attracted . . .

In the past, Littleton's charm nearly got him leg-shackled to the wrong woman. Now he's positive he's found the right one, for Adeline is everything he wants and needs in a wife. Her sense of justice is so strong she agrees to help him despite her mistrust. But can the ton's most elusive lord convince the lady he is finally serious about marriage—as long as she will be his bride?

Contains mature themes.

Release date: March 31, 2020

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 368

Sample

Littleton House, Mayfair, London, 1818

Frederick, Lord Littleton—Frits to his mother and grandmother—gave one final twitch to his cravat before allowing his valet to attach his pocket watch and quizzer. “Lord Turley is dining with me this evening.”

“I shall inform the cook, my lord.”

“You’d better tell my mother as well.” Frits took his hat and gloves. “She should arrive at any time now.”

“Yes, my lord.” Ayles opened the door to the chamber and bowed. “We shall all be glad to have her ladyship in residence.”

Frits refrained from answering. After the fine kettle of fish he’d made of things last Season, it wasn’t just his staff that would be pleased Mama was in Town. He should be the most eligible gentleman in London, but for his “mistake,” as she so delicately put it.

His butler opened the door as he approached. It was time to face the ton in the most public forum possible. The Grand Strut.

Nodding to his groom, he took the reins and swung up on his Friesian horse, Apollo. Never had Frits been so uncertain of his reception in the ton as he was today. Fortunately, he wouldn’t be alone for long. His friend Gavin, Viscount Turley, had promised to meet him at the Park. Frits’s hands grew damp in the gloves. He hadn’t been this nervous since his first day at Eton. Still, it was his own damned fault. Hopefully, no one would remember how badly he had behaved last year. And if they did, he would simply have to prove he’d learned his lesson.

Entering the Park through Grosvenor Gate, he almost turned around and went home. But if he lost his nerve now, it would be worse later. Perhaps he’d be lucky, and the matchmaking mamas would ignore his past behavior in favor of all his good points, mainly his bloodline, wealth, and title. And there was a whole new group of young ladies making their come out this year who must be married off. Not that he was going to advertise his hopes of finding a wife this Season. That would be folly.

Blast it all. Why had he decided to look for a wife in the first place? He should have just done what his father and every other Littleton had done for centuries: wait until he had to marry.

Pulling himself together, he rode onto the carriageway. Within a few seconds, he found himself being genially greeted by four matrons in a landau. The tension eased out of his shoulders. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as bad as he’d imagined.

“Lord Littleton”—Lady Wall wiggled her fingers at him—“I am glad to find you in Town.”

The lady next to her raised interested blue eyes to his, gave him a come-hither look, and said, “I do not believe we have been introduced.”

“Oh, my,” Lady Wall exclaimed. “It did not occur to me that you did not know his lordship. Allow me to make Lord Littleton known to you. My lord, this is Lady Holloway.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord.” Her generous lips rose in a smile.

In the past, he would have immediately returned her look for one of his own and made an arrangement to meet in a more secluded place. But his hunting instinct didn’t press him the way it used to. Perhaps that was the reason he’d decided to wed. He bowed. “The pleasure is mine.”

Lady Wall indicated the other two matrons in the carriage. “I trust you remember Lady Jersey and Lady Sefton?”

“Naturally.” Frits bowed again, and they exchanged greetings. “Ladies, I hope I find you in good health.”

“And you, my lord.” Lady Sefton inclined her head.

As the landau moved forward, Frits scanned the verge. He saw the one lady he had not wished to see, Lady Dorie Calthorp—daughter of the Marquis of Huntingdon, and his mistake—strolling with four other ladies. He’d behaved badly toward her last Season. Though not on purpose. For too long, he thought they would be a good match. But the more he grew to know her and her strengths and desires for her life, the more he was convinced marrying her would be a horrible mistake. But instead of finding a way to tell her, he’d fled London and returned to Littlewood, his main estate. And now it was too late to attempt to explain his panic. If he’d even had the words.

After taking a breath, he let it out slowly. He might as well get this over with. Frits just hoped she didn’t give him the cut direct.

Riding over to the group, he gave her his friendly smile. “Lady Dorie, well-met.”

The smile she returned was strained, and her eyes were hard. “Lord Littleton, I did not know you were in Town.”

“I arrived yesterday.” If looks could kill, he’d be lying on the ground bleeding. “Have you been in Town long?”

“Long enough.” Her words were clipped. She turned to the other ladies and made an elegant gesture toward him. “On the subject of gentlemen who appear eligible and are not, permit me to introduce to you Lord Littleton.” Damn and blast it. He fought to maintain his amiable countenance. She was obviously going to do her best to ensure he didn’t have an easy time finding a wife. “My lord, Lady Adeline Wivenly, Lady Augusta Vivers, Miss Featherton, and Miss Stern.”

He forced a smile and made what he knew was a stylish bow. “Ladies, it is a pleasure to meet you. I hope you enjoy your time in the metropolis.” Miss Stern gave him a hard look. Had Lady Dorie already blackened his name to her friend? Lady Augusta was polite but unaffected, as if she did not care one way or the other if she met him. Miss Featherton had narrowed her eyes as if assessing his worth as a human being. That was disconcerting, but it ran in her family. He knew her older brother and sister.

Then there was Lady Adeline. She just stared at him with considering, soft, gray eyes that shone like silver. Curls of gleaming, dark, honey-blond hair framed her face. She was utterly entrancing. Immediately, he wanted to know what she was thinking. As if she realized she should not continue to look at him, she dropped her gaze, and thick, brown lashes fluttered to her cheeks, drawing his attention to her straight, little nose and a light sprinkling of freckles. If only he’d met her in other company. Naturally, he could not help but notice her deep rose lips and the fact that her bottom lip was just a bit plumper than the top one. His gaze dropped lower, and he sucked in a breath. Even her demure spencer couldn’t hide the bounty beneath. He could have licked his lips at the thought of her in an evening gown. Here was a lady worth getting to know.

Frits dragged his gaze back to Lady Dorie but was unable to maintain his smile in the face of her displeasure. Not that it mattered. He’d found out what he needed to. She wasn’t going to cut him. Although she’d stick a spoke in his wheel if she could. As reluctant as he was to leave Lady Adeline, it was time to depart. “I hope to see you as well, my lady.” He glanced at her friends, allowing his gaze to linger longer on Lady Adeline. “I look forward to seeing all of you again.”

“I suppose that is unavoidable.” Lady Dorie dipped a slight curtsey. Not shallow enough to be insulting, but then again, her manners had always been impeccable. “Good day to you, my lord.”

Touching his fingers to his hat, he made his escape as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself. As he rode around the carriageway, he was greeted warmly by other gentlemen and ladies. Apparently only Lady Dorie was holding his behavior against him. Then again, it had affected her the most. Hopefully, she would find another gentleman and if not forgive him, then forget him.

He was halfway around the Park when Turley arrived. “Littleton, how have you been?”

“Well enough.” Together, they turned and proceeded at a walk. “How is your sister?” The former Elizabeth Turley, now the Countess of Harrington, was with her husband in Paris. Frits had developed a tendre for her before she married. Not that he’d ever had a chance of gaining her affections. She was deeply in love with her husband. What had drawn him to her more than anything was that she had not been at all susceptible to him. The time they’d spent together had been for the sole purpose of bringing Harrington up to scratch. That she had no reaction to Frits at all had been a new experience for him.

“Thriving.” Turley grinned. “She and Harrington now have a little girl. I’m heading over to France when the Season ends. You should join me.”

“I keep thinking I will, but once I get back home, I can’t seem to leave.” In fact, Frits preferred Littlewood to almost anywhere else except a few of his other estates. Which was a bit of a problem when it came to marriage. Most ladies wanted more society than he liked. The endless round of house parties, or visiting Brighton, or even coming to London in autumn had never appealed to him, even though it meant he did not have to go without female companionship for any length of time. One of the most important things his father had told him was never to have liaisons with women near or on his estates. The bored matrons and widows of the ton knew the rules; others might not.

His friend chuckled. “I firmly believe that if it wasn’t for the occasional vote in the Lords, you wouldn’t come to Town at all.”

He couldn’t help but agree. “I probably would not. Nevertheless, it’s time I start my nursery, and this is the best place to do it. I’ve been to all the local assemblies and did not find a lady I could face over the breakfast table for the rest of my life.”

Turley lost his smile. “Did you see Lady Dorie?”

“I did.” Frits glanced at his friend. “She greeted me and introduced me to four other young ladies.” He pulled a face. “She described me as ‘a gentleman who seemed eligible but was not.’” Frits almost wished he hadn’t decided to lease the house he used for his indulgences. Yet, if he was serious about finding a wife—and he was—he could not continue to carry on as he had been. That would insult any lady he decided to court.

“Ouch.” Turley grimaced. “That’s not going to help you.”

Frits’s thoughts precisely. “I suppose it could have been worse.”

Turley began walking his gelding, and Frits did the same. “The good news is that I’ve been here for a week and have not heard any talk about you and Lady Dorie. I think most of Polite Society has forgotten, if they cared at all. You were fairly circumspect.”

He was glad to hear that bit of news. Yet, he hadn’t thought of his behavior as prudent. Neither had his mother. “My mother is arriving today. I am to be chaperoned this Season.”

Turley shook his head and started to laugh. “It’s about time she took you in hand. You raise hopes without even trying.”

Frits rolled his eyes to the sky. But he couldn’t argue that his friend was wrong. He’d always had problems with ladies thinking he cared more than he did. That was one of the reasons he did not often attend entertainments where he might be introduced to young ladies. Last Season was the first time in years he’d done so, and look what happened. If only he hadn’t lost his nerve about telling Lady Dorie what he’d decided. He truly did hope she would soon find a gentleman who could make her happy. She was a fine woman, even if she wasn’t for him.

He had to get over this guilt he was feeling. Maybe he should find a way to help her. On second thought, that probably was not a good idea.

“Lord Turley and Lord Littleton,” Lady Bellamny hailed them, and Frits repressed a shudder. The lady was a terror. And she was accompanied by Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, another dragon. “I shall send you cards to my ball.” She lifted her lorgnette to her eyes. “And expect to see you there.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Yes, my lady.” They’d answered at the same time, sounding like schoolboys.

She motioned for her driver to move on before they even had a chance to acknowledge the other woman.

“Devil of a lady,” Turley said admiringly. “She scares me to death.”

“I think she scares all unwed gentlemen of marriageable age to death.” She was always more than willing to help snare a man in the parson’s mousetrap.

As they came to the gate leading onto Park Lane, Turley said, “After that, I’d like a drink. I’m going to Brooks’s. Would you like to join me?”

“I might as well.” Frits had braved most of the ladies. Now it was time to discover if the gentlemen were as willing to accept him as their wives were.

As they rode out of the Park, a familiar-looking, bright-green landau was making its way in. He trotted up to greet her. “Mama, when did you arrive?”

“Frits, you look like you survived your first foray into Polite Society.” His mother smiled. “Shortly after you left. I decided to take a look around while my maid was unpacking. There is no time like the present to see and hear what has been going on.” She inclined her head to Turley. “It’s good to see you, Gavin. I expect to hear all about your sister at dinner this evening.” She fluttered her fingers at them. “I shall see you later.”

“She is entirely too cheerful,” Frits said, more to himself than his friend. When she’d informed him that she would be in Town with him this Season, she’d refused to answer his questions about what exactly she was going to do.

“Well, at least she’ll keep you from making a muck of it around the marriageable ladies.” Turley chuckled. “You need to keep in mind that being wed is for life, not a night or two.”

“I am well aware of that. It’s not like I planned to get myself into so much trouble.” Frits glared at his friend. It was so much easier when his only interest in a woman was slaking his lust and hers.

“It will take me about half an hour to change,” Turley said.

“I’ll see you at Brooks’s in just under an hour.” Frits saluted his friend as he rode toward Grosvenor Square.

Maybe he should just go home again. Then the image of a pair of intelligent, silvery gray eyes formed in his brain. On the other hand, perhaps he’d stay and see what happened. There was just something about Lady Adeline—beyond her lips and breasts—that made him want to know her better. The one difficulty was that she was a friend of Lady Dorie’s, and that wouldn’t help him at all.

Adeline almost gasped at Dorie’s comment about Lord Littleton. Only by giving him the cut direct could she have insulted him more. He must have done something horrible to her.

Yet, despite her friend’s obvious dislike of the man, Adeline could not help but notice Lord Littleton as he rode away. He sat his horse as if he’d been born riding. And that horse. She had seen pictures of Friesians before, but had never seen a real one. She would have loved to have been able to at least stroke the magnificent animal. If not for watching the horse trot toward them, she would have failed to notice how Lord Littleton’s broad shoulders flexed under the well-fitting jacket, and his muscular legs incased in the tight pantaloons were works of art. When he had gazed at her, a lock of his curling black hair had fallen forward, making her want to touch it. And as their eyes met, his emerald ones seemed to warm, making her feel as if she was the only lady, the only person, he could see. Then a dimple appeared on his left cheek. It was a shame he was ineligible; he really was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

“What makes him ineligible?” Georgie asked more bluntly than Adeline ever would have put it.

Adeline glanced at Dorie, waiting to hear the answer.

“He has no desire to marry.” Her tone was sharp and bitter. “But he will make a lady think she is his sun, moon, and stars.”

In other words, a rake.

Adeline bit down on her lip. Dorie was probably not the only lady he had led on. Adeline knew all about rakes: men who merely played with a lady’s heart and did not care how badly he hurt her. Her brother Wivenly had been one, and he’d broken a lot of hearts. At least, that is what she had gathered from overhearing parts of her parents’ conversations. He had even offered to ruin a lady and not marry her.

As far as she was concerned, they did not make good husbands. Not that her brother would stray. He was devoted to his wife, but he certainly was not a comfortable man. She was sure that came from being a rake and having his way for far too long.

Adeline was not exactly certain what she wanted, but she knew she did not wish for a life like her mother’s. She might not know everything she wanted in a gentleman, but she knew what she did not want, and a rake was at the top of the list, followed by excesses in drinking, gambling, wenching, club attendance, and politics. She wished for a gentleman who did not pull-cuffs with her every time she turned around, but could enjoy a quiet evening and remain in the country most of the year. Unlike her mother, she would spend time with her children. And she would have a dog—in the house. Something that she had never been allowed to have.

That Lord Littleton was a rake was more than a bit disappointing. He was very handsome. Adeline mentally crossed him off her list of none. In any event, it would have been too much to hope that she would meet her true love on her first stroll in the Park.

Ah, well, she sighed to herself. There would be other fish in the sea.

Another gentleman rode up and was introduced as Lord Turley. He was good-looking as well, though his fair, blond looks were not nearly as compelling as Lord Littleton’s black hair and emerald-green eyes. But most rakes were handsome and interesting. That was the only way they got away with breaking hearts. Lord Turley was much safer, but Georgie seemed interested in him, and Adeline did not wish to run afoul of her new friend. She was fortunate to have found four ladies she got on so well with in such a short time. She let out a soft sigh. At least she knew which gentleman she would avoid.

The talk turned to Almack’s and balls, particularly Augusta’s come out ball, which would be the first to be held. Adeline’s was not until a few weeks later. They also discussed ways to protect each other from unwanted attention from gentlemen.

Apparently Lord Littleton was not the only rake in Town. “We could even think up some scenarios to help each other,” she suggested. “Augusta, can you arrange for us to come to Rothwell House so that we can learn where everything is?”

“Of course,” Augusta agreed, but appeared confused. “How will that aid us when we will not know the other houses?”

“We will practice slipping away to be found.” Not that Adeline thought she had anything to worry about. She was passably pretty, but not beautiful like her friends were.

“Like the game Sardines,” Augusta said. Adeline had never heard of the game. Fortunately, her friend saw their confused expressions and explained, “In Sardines, one person hides and the others find her. It is played in Spain.”

“Sardines it is.” Henrietta laughed.

It did sound like fun. Adeline looked forward to learning how to help her friends avoid rakes.

“Will you attend Almack’s this week?” Augusta’s forehead had furrowed. She really wasn’t looking forward to going.

“I’ll be there with Dotty and Merton.” Henrietta used a reassuring tone. “It will be interesting. Think of it as an experiment.”

“I suppose I could do that.” Augusta did not sound convinced.

“Interesting is one way to put it,” Georgie muttered. “I hear that the refreshments leave much to be desired. My mother, brother, and sister will escort me.”

“Caro and Huntley are bringing me.” Dorie’s nose wrinkled. “Supper consists of thinly sliced stale bread and butter, weak tea, and orgeat.”

It appeared as if all of them were being accompanied by their brothers or sisters. Adeline had wanted her mother to attend with her for the first time, but Mama had a political event she was helping to host. If Adeline heard another word about politics she was going to—to—well, she would have to think of something that was not too painful as she would no doubt be unable to avoid that topic. The Lords was in session, and most peers were involved in government.

“I will be there with my brother and sister-in-law. Wivenly complained about going, but Eugénie said he could remain home if he wished, and she would dance with whom she pleased.” Remembering the look of pure outrage on his face, Adeline had to giggle. “She says it in such a way that makes one think she doesn’t care one way or the other, but my brother hates whenever another gentleman stands up with her. So, he will escort us.” Not that he would be much help when it came to knowing who was eligible and who was not. It was most depressing. How was she supposed to know who to encourage and who to discourage? Well, that was what friends were for. Especially Dorie. This was her second Season, and that gave her a great deal of knowledge Adeline and the others did not have.

As they strolled farther, Georgie fell in beside Adeline. “You look blue-deviled,” Georgie said. “Did you not wish to come to Town?”

It occurred to Adeline that no one had actually asked if she wanted to come out this year. She had turned eighteen last autumn, and none of the gentlemen in her home county had interested her. Ergo, she had to make her come out at some point, so this Season was as good as any. “Coming to Town is fine. London seems interesting. The problem is that I have no idea how to go about looking for a husband.”

Her friend laughed lightly. “I do not think any of us do. From what I have gathered, even Dorie does not know. My sister, Meg, took over three years to decide on a husband. She had a couple of bad experiences. If one thinks about it for too long, it’s enough to put one off the whole thing.”

That made Adeline feel somewhat better. Not that she wanted another lady to have had a hard time, but at least she was not the only one who felt at a loss. “We practice all sorts of things: manners, dancing, musical instruments, languages, and a host of other subjects. Then we arrive here and are told that gentlemen do not wish a lady to be intelligent. But my elder brother and my father married rational ladies. It is very confusing.”

Georgie’s brows came together as she frowned. “Did your family tell you that? Mine told me that if a gentleman did not want an intelligent female, he could look somewhere else for a wife.”

Adeline had to think about that. “No. Not my family, so much as other ladies with whom I have spoken. My mother is so busy with her political events, she has not paid much attention to my come out at all.”

“I do not know if that is good or bad,” Georgie mused. “Sometimes I feel as if I would like everyone in my family to spend less time thinking about me.” She grinned. “Fortunately, I only have my mother and grandmother. My older sister has been busy setting her husband’s family to rights.”

Adeline wondered what that meant, but decided she would find out at some point. “My sister-in-law has promised help, but she was raised in the Danish West Indies and has not spent much time in Town.”

“That must have been interesting. Do not be concerned. It will work out.” Georgie linked her arm with Adeline’s. “We all have one another now. That will help.”

“Yes. You are correct. I should not worry so much.” Instead, Adeline would enjoy the company of new friends and take in the beauty of the Park as the leaves began to unfurl. Crocuses were popping up, making bright patterns against the green of the grass. She looked forward to the other spring flowers making a showing. “I shall focus on enjoying my time here. And if I am not married this Season, there is always the next one.”

“That is it exactly and how it should be. I feel deeply for the ladies who are being pressured to wed in their first Season.” Georgie stopped and peered at the carriageway. “Who is that?”

A gentleman with curling guinea-gold hair riding a bay gelding had stopped and was talking to a lady in a high-perched phaeton. He too was extremely good-looking. Did all the handsome men in England come to Town for the Season? “I have no idea.” Although Adeline would like to be introduced. “Perhaps Dorie knows him.”

“Dorie?” Georgie raised her voice just enough for their friend, who was walking directly in front of them, to hear and inclined her head in the direction of the newcomer. “Do you know that gentleman?”

“No.” Dorie shook her head. “I’ve not seen him before. He must be new in Town. He is speaking with Lady Riverton. She is my sister-in-law’s dead brother’s widow. Perhaps he has recently returned from his Grand Tour. She was in Paris until recently, and he does not appear to be in more than his middle twenties.”

“I agree,” Henrietta commented. “No more than six and twenty, I would say. Well, we can only trust we shall see him at one of the events.”

“If he is looking for a wife.” Georgie sounded dubious.

Adeline glanced at the man. He was bowing over her ladyship’s hand, but there was really nothing in that.

“If he’s not, then I do not care to meet him.” A line formed between Dorie’s brows. She was probably thinking about Lord Littleton. And truly, there was no point in meeting men who were not interested in marriage.

Adeline was still looking at the blond-haired gentleman when he raised his eyes and stared straight at her. She turned her head, but not before she saw his lips tilt slightly. Was it possible she had interested him? That would make two gentlemen—though she could not count the first—in one day who showed an interest in her. Goodness, the Season might not be as bad as she thought it would be. Of course, she must meet more eligible gentlemen. She glanced at the blond man next to Lady Riverton.

As much as Adeline wanted to marry and set up her own household, she had to be certain the gentleman she married met all of her qualifications—such as they were—and that it was a love match.

Crispin, Earl of Anglesey, eldest son of the Marquis of Normanby, held the light gray gaze of one of a bevy of young ladies strolling along the verge. He wondered how long he could keep her looking at him, but the lady next to her caught her attention and the gray-eyed lady turned away.

“I see you are already affecting the just-out-of-the-schoolroom set.” The tone of Sarah, the widowed Countess of Riverton was irritable, and he wasn’t in the mood for it. Still, for the time being, he needed her.

“I do not know why you are put out.” He allowed his eyes to drop to hers. “You will not marry me, and my father has demanded I wed this Season or lose my allowance. . .