She moved as one practiced in the dance. She was lithe and graceful in his arms. He pulled her as close as Society and their brief acquaintance would accept. She did not fit his hands as did Angeline.
But, then, Angeline was not there.
“It surprises me we have not met before, my lady.” Geoffrey swung her into a tight turn at the end of the room. She followed him with ease.
“Please, call me Vanessa, all my friends do.”
“And are we to be friends, then?” His eyes took in the soft arch of black eyebrows, high cheek bones, a straight nose and pouty lips.
“If you wish it, my lord.” She smiled up at him. But she was taller than Angeline.
“Have you no fears to acquaint a rake such as I?”
“Rumor has it you are on the market. Is it not true?”
“Alas, it is quite true, though not my personal preference. One hates being treated as a commodity. I do not know how the young chits stand it.” Approaching the other end of the floor, Geoffrey turned her again. She was led easily by his firm grip.
“Having been one of those chits a number of years ago, I can attest that we rarely have any choice in the matter. Since we are still in the charge of our parents and know no better ourselves, we willingly go like lambs to the slaughter impressed by glitter, gold and titles.”
Angeline had not been impressed by such materialistic things.
“You are married then, Countess?” She did have a fine light in those cool blue eyes. Intelligence and honesty lurked there.
“Widowed, my lord. My husband passed away just over a year ago. I am just now shedding my widow’s weeds to attend the Ton.”
“I am sorry, my lady. I did not wish to be indelicate.” Geoffrey looked away at the other dancers.
“He was of a great age, nearly three score ten when he died. He had a full life and died with little pain. Few could ask for more.”
“But you could not be more than a score and ten yourself, Countess.” Was she yet another who had been forced to marry for funds or a title?
“One score nine to be precise. We had ten years together.” She now turned her face from him. “And we have a son of five to show for it. Henry was very pleased to have an heir and he was generous to me for producing one.”
The music stopped and the two of them faced each other on the floor.
“May I call on you tomorrow, my lady?” Geoffrey liked this woman. She was not silly nor empty headed. She had tasted some of life and had endured some of its less tasteful demands.
“Only if you call me Vanessa, my lord.” She gave him a smile, not coy like the newly minted school chits fluttering about the room, but warm and sincere.
“As you wish, Vanessa. You can expect me round two in the afternoon. But you must call me Geoffrey.” If her smile could possibly become warmer, it did just then.
He escorted her back to the gentlemen who attended her and said his goodnights to them all.
The next day was warm and sunny, a great day for a ride and, possibly, a little courting.
Geoffrey was very pleased with himself as he handed Lady Summersborne, Vanessa, up into his curricle. She was stunning in an ice blue gown that emphasized a slender but well-endowed figure. He wondered if she would be as lush, as welcoming as Angeline under his hands.
He climbed in next to her and snapped the ribbons. In moments they were in the park.
“You cut quite the figure in town, my lord.” Vanessa seemed to enjoy the ride as she nodded to acquaintances they passed.
“I try not to make myself too apparent.”
“Ah, but you have failed. The first rumors I had of you I was still a wife. It was the married ladies of the Ton who spoke of your virtues and availability. The mamas cautioned their young daughters about being ruined by the likes of you.” She smiled up at him in something that could only be called a knowing way.
Geoffrey could feel the heat rise to his face. She had actually made him blush. He did not turn to meet her gaze but cleared his throat. “It is why I preferred the married ladies.”
“Quite. Kept your legs free of the marriage shackles. Then you became a marquess. The married women of my acquaintance lamented that.”
“How so?” he snapped the ribbons and steered the rig around the oncoming traffic.
“They knew it was only a matter of time when you would do the nice and take a bride. Obviously, since they were already committed, they would not be candidates for the position. Thus it was the mamas who rejoiced and gave their daughters new instructions.”
“And you know all this because?” He looked at her now and enjoyed the smiling sky-blue eyes that looked back at him. Was she toying with him?
“When Henry, my husband, died, I returned to London. His estates are far to the north and we had little reason to come to town, especially considering his age. But, after his passing, I did not wish to be alone in the cold north.
“Though I did not attend the balls and soirees, I did attend teas and visit my friends of the past. One hears things, if they pay attention.”
“And, evidently, you pay attention?”
“Of course. I have a new life to lead and a son to raise. He will be raised in Society and need a wife someday. As an earl he will be sought after. I wish him to make a good match.”
The course through the park taken, the courting begun, he drew the curricle up before her door. “As a good mother should. Not having a title most of my life, many cared not whether I matched at all. I served my country and did the family proud in such manner. As for a wife, none seemed to care a whit until I gained the title.” He tied the ribbons, climbed down and reached up for her. “Now, it seems, everyone has an opinion and is only too willing to give me guidance in their preferred direction.”
He set her on the ground. She weighed no more than Angeline despite her somewhat greater height. Escorting her up the stairs, he saw the door open and the butler hold it in place.
“It is quite a study, watching you, my lord. I am learning a great deal and it will be most helpful when my son is grown.”
“I am so pleased I can be of some minor service, my lady.” She turned and smiled up at him again. That slight, knowing smile. There was no doubt in his mind why there was a group of men in her train. She had charm, wit, grace and beauty. She would be a prize for any single man of the Ton.
“Will you be at the Sheffields’ tonight, Vanessa?” He surprised himself with the question but was hoping for an affirmative answer. She was the only other light he’d found in his quest for a wife.
Her eyes never left him. “That is the plan, my lord.”
“Geoffrey,” he said as he took her hand and brought it to his lips.
“Geoffrey,” she rolled it off her tongue as if it were a caress.
“Tonight, then.”
“As you wish, Geoffrey.”
He released her hand and jumped back into his rig. When he turned to look back, she was entering the house, her back, straight as a ramrod, her derrière rounded and lush.
She did not look back at him.
The Sheffields’ was yet another overly bright and hot ballroom. It was at least tastefully decorated for the affair. He wondered what the women thought of when they designed the accoutrements for such activities.
He was there for only one purpose. Vanessa. His gaze searched the room for her and hoped his efforts would be rewarded.
She was seated in a royal blue settee across the room surrounded by the same three men from the previous night. One or more of them must be courting her. Maybe one of them was already her lover.
He strolled over and was greeted by the group. Her smile was warm and the glint was in her eyes.
“Lady Summersborne,” he said, ignoring the pokes in the ribs the other gentlemen were
giving each other. “Would you care to take a turn around the room?”
“I would be delighted, my lord.” She stretched her hand up for his grasp.
They chatted easily for many minutes. He praised her ensemble, a blue-green gown with sedate ribbons under her breasts. She thanked him for the carriage ride earlier in the day.
They came to the open French doors at the end of the ballroom and he easily pulled her out onto the veranda.
“Will you walk with me in the garden, Vanessa?” He kept his voice controlled.
“Certainly, Geoffrey. The Sheffields are supposed to have a fabulous garden and I have never seen it before. I would assume they want to show it off since there are torches lighting the paths.”
“Then let us see their horticultural delights.” Tucking her hand in his elbow he led her down the stairs onto a bricked path. They walked silently for some time enjoying the warm summer breeze and the starry night above. When Geoffrey noted an unlit path to a secluded bower, he gently pulled her that way.
She gave no objection.
The scent of roses filled the air and the moonlight filtered through the leaves of the bower. When he felt they were alone and removed enough from the path, he drew her into his arms and leaned toward her to take her lips.
She gently pulled back and placed her gloved finger tips against his mouth.
“Geoffrey, first we must talk.”
“In a moment.” He took her hand away and kissed her.
She knew what she was about, after all she had been married for ten years. Hers was not the untutored kisses he had first shared with Angeline. She met him inch for inch. And when he ran his tongue over her lips she opened for him and met his tongue with her own.
She aroused him.
But there was not the fire he felt with his green-eyed Angeline.
“Geoffrey,” she whispered as he released her lips. “You must tell me what you are about. I have been married, as you know, so you can speak plainly. Are you just looking for a trifle while you find a bride?”
“No, Vanessa, I am looking for a bride.” He rubbed his lips against her ear. Her scent was different from Angeline’s. Hers was a scent of spice and honey. Attractive but different.
“And have you found many candidates while here in London?” Her hands slid up his chest and tangled in the hair at his nape.
“You are the only one.”
He turned his head and took her lips again. She was warm and most willing but she did not fit him like Angeline. Moments later he released her lips again.
“I am afraid, my lord, I will not do.” She looked up at him in the dim light.
“Not do?”
“Your heart belongs to another.”
“How could you possibly know that?” he was confounded by her insight.
“It is the way you kiss me, Geoffrey.”
“Were you not pleased?”
“Yes, but you were not fully here.”
“What matter of that? We fit well together. You have intelligence, wit and beauty. What more could a man want?”
“He could want the woman he loves, Geoffrey. And I am not she.”
“Vanessa, you must be reasonable.” He slid his hands down her arms and took her hands in his.
“I am being very reasonable. I spent ten years being married for reason. My husband was an old man but a good one. He did not abuse me and over those years I became very fond of him. He gave me a son, whom I love very much. But I have done my duty for my family and his.” Her eyes did not blink as she studied his face. “I am alone now and may be for some time. I have decided the next time I choose to marry it will be for love or not at all.”
Geoffrey started to speak but her gloved fingertips settled upon his lips quickly.
“My lord, I do not doubt I could fall in love with you. But you are in love with another. And that is not acceptable to me. At this stage of my life I wish to be someone else’s love. Someone who would cherish and love me as I would love him.
“Geoffrey, I am not that one for you. So you cannot be that one for me.” Her fingers moved from his lips.
“But what am I to do then, Vanessa. I need a wife. I need an heir. One of these young twits would turn me into a lunatic within a month.”
“Will she not marry you? Has she no feelings for you?”
“Yes, she has feelings for me, but she wishes not to marry and has no need to. She is an heiress. She needs not my money nor my title.”
“Have you told her you love her, Geoffrey?”
He turned his face away. “What good would that do? I’ve asked her three times and she has refused every time.”
Vanessa gently turned his face back toward her and looked deeply into his eyes. “Geoffrey, you already said she doesn’t need your money, she doesn’t need your title, she has feelings for you. Just what else do you think a woman, an independent woman, might need from a man?”
Raising up on her toes, she kissed his cheek. “I’ll leave you to your dilemma, then. I do hope it works out. Please, let me know if it does.”
As she walked away, Geoffrey watched the gentle sway of her hips in the moonlight. Vanessa was a wonderful woman. Maybe if he had not met Angeline first.
But, he had.
He did not return to the ball. There was nothing there for him anyway. He headed for his townhouse. Then, he was getting out of London as quickly as he could pull the last of his business dealings together and going home.
Chapter 23
At dinner the following evening Angeline sat pondering her fate while her father, at the other end of the table, held on a full conversation about the newest foal all by himself. After a knock on the dining room door, Thomas briskly entered.
“A missive for you, my lady,” said the butler, bowing as he presented the silver salver to her.
“Thank you, Thomas. Who delivered it? Do you know?” Angeline inquired as she studied her name written by a flamboyant hand on the envelope.
“A stable boy from the marquess’s estate, my lady,” he responded then bowed out of the room.
Angeline’s face was already flushed, her hands gently shaking as she opened the correspondence. As she read the script, her whole body heated. It contained only one word: Tonight. It was not signed; he had no need for such formality.
At the other end of the table, Angus sat quietly watching the plethora of reactions that passed over his daughter’s face as she handled the paper. He restrained a knowing smile as she struggled to regain her composure but Angus had no doubt from whom the missive had come nor what it contained. She would be out again tonight, returning just before dawn. How much longer this would go on he had no idea but he was sure of one thing, based upon his daughter’s own responses, the marquess would win. In the not too distant future Angeline would marry and it would be Lord Colburn who would take her to wife.
He kept a patient silence.
Angeline’s mind whirled in an explosion of thoughts. Damn the man! He leaves me for nearly a fortnight then expects me to show up at his beck and call with a simple note of demand. The bastard! I’ll show him! I will give him a piece of my mind he won’t forget. This is all his fault.
Her father cleared his throat. “Is everything all right, my dear?” he inquired pleasantly.
“Huh? Oh, yes, Papa,” she drew out of her reverie to regain control of her unspent rage. “Fine. Everything is just fine. I think I’ll just go out to the garden to—to . . . tend the roses. I really need to tend to the roses.” She pushed back suddenly from her chair, her meal not quite finished, to escape to the world of flowers. Surely she could think there.
But thinking did not help matters at all. The rest of her evening was spent in exhilaration, frustration and anger that he had finally returned.
The
question still remained, however, was he still free from attachment? And if not, what would she do then?
She channeled her ire as well as her nervous energy as best she could until it was time for their clandestine meeting. A hot bath, her hair washed and brushed dry, a change of clothing, nothing soothed her distracted state. When she could no longer dally, she ran from her room to the cottage in the copse by the lake.
Geoffrey stood at the table with his back to the door. She was late. No matter. Patiently he continued cleaning the strawberries, slicing off the stems, cutting them into bite size pieces, thinking of how much Angeline loved the taste of the berries, with cream, whipped cream.
The door slammed open behind him. “You bastard!” she screamed at him as she stomped over the threshold. “You son of a bitch!”
“Angeline,” he said softly, a slow smile sliding across his face as an inkling of what may have caused her current rage gained foothold in his mind. Calmly he turned around to face her. “I am so glad you have arrived. You are late and I have great need of you. It’s been twelve days and twelve very long and lonely nights.”
Just then Angeline’s eyes dropped to see who or what she faced. There he stood with a bowl in one hand, stark naked, his shoulders broad and strong, his hips narrow, his legs muscled and his flagrant manhood aroused to the hilt. His sex jutted out from his body as a blatant dare for her to try to ignore him, to try to ignore her need of him.
“Don’t you touch me,” she screeched as he started to approach her. “You’ve done enough damage.”
“Damage? I don’t remember leaving any marks, any scars. I am quite sure your skin and body are as pristine as the day we met, with the exception of your maidenhead of course.” He cautiously approached closer.
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