"Do not expect me back for the evening, Nelson," Adrian said, throwing his cape about his shoulders and drawing on his gloves. He must hurry or Almack's would not permit him entrance. He had promised Delilah Randels he would attend. The bountifully endowed widow had started casting out lures for him and he looked forward to discovering what the delightfully experienced Delilah desired to offer. Of late, Nanette, his paramour of the moment, had become more and more demanding. Indeed, much too possessive. Without a doubt it was time to seek out different waters while the sailing was still smooth. A mistress turning greedy was one thing; a mistress growing jealous was quite another. After all, it was much better to set sail before the storm. He did dislike a scene. Such could only be considered unrestful at best.
"Yes, my lord," Nelson said, opening the door for Adrian.
Adrian, prepared to step out, halted. Two women stood upon the stoop, effectively blocking his path. The one ------ a brown-haired woman of middle age, her nose brilliant red from the cold ----- had her fist raised toward the knocker. The other was cloaked and hooded, which made her age indeterminate. She held in her arms an infant whose gurgles and coos determined its own age readily.
"Do forgive me," the brown-haired lady said, jerking her fist down. "Is this the residence of the Marquise de Chambert?"
"Yes. Yes, it is," Adrian said frowning as a sudden squall Rose from the baby.
"Thank heavens," the lady sighed. "It is only the third establishment we have tried. Lord Worthington has never been one to be clear upon addresses."
"Lord Worthington?" Adrian asked. It took a moment of recollection, but with recollection came consternation. "Good God, no!"
Nelson, behind him, cleared his throat and stepped forward. "You are Miss Mummington, I presume?"
"Miss Mumford," the lady said, nodding her head with a pleasant smile. "Yes, I am."
"We have been expecting you," Nelson said.
Outrage shot through Adrian. "No, we have not!"
"Oh, dear," Miss Mumford said, her eyes stricken.
"I mean," Adrian said, attempting to recover, "Lord Worthington did not inform me his daughter was but a baby. We are not prepared for a baby. He led me to believe she was . . . er . . . older."
"Faith, what a tangle," the cloaked one said with a trill of laughter. With a strong jerk of her head, she shook her good back. Adrian sucked in his breath. The most beautiful girl with silver hair and deep blue eyes smiled at him. "I am Carin Worthington."
"No," Adrian breathed. "You cannot be Carinna Worthington."
"Carin," she said, smiling. "Only Father calls me Carinna."
Adrian flushed. That infernal Worthington had misinformed him about everything. "By either name, you cannot be his daughter."
"Indeed, I am not a baby," Carin Worthington said. "Doesn't that please you?"
"You are too old," Adrian said.
" First you do not want me to be a baby, and now you say I am too old," Carin said, a perplexed expression crossing her face. "Which do you want?"