Geoff immediately imagined Shelby wearing the gown and cape he'd given her on her outing with the odious Castle. He very nearly demanded that she return them, but good breeding won out. Instead, glaring at Shelby, he ground out, "If you are doing this to make me jealous, I can assure you that you will suffer much more than I tonight."
"How could I have misjudged you so completely? You're a conceited jackass!" she whispered loudly, hands on hips. Vivian flinched in the shadows behind them. "Thank God you showed your true colors before I got myself in any deeper than I have already."
"Fortunately, I know that you don't mean one word of that nonsense, so I'll forgive you in advance."
"If I were a man, I'd punch you!"
Geoff laughed at this, which made Shelby even more furious. "How charmingly transparent you are, scamp. I think that we both know that you would have sent Bernard Castle on his way if you hadn't seen a way to strike out at me. How long will it be before you send word to him that you aren't feeling well and won't be able to join him this evening?" He flashed a wicked grin.
Since this was exactly what Shelby had intended to do, it made her furious that he should have guessed. "How amusing it is that you make yourself so important! Ha ha! Why should I go to such trouble on your account?"
"What other motives might you have?" Geoff tapped a finger to his jaw, pretending to consider a range of possibilities. "Are you longing to be owned? If so, Castle can pay the price. He's one of the wealthiest of the diamond millionaires and financiers whom King Edward has befriended. The circle of friends he spoke of includes the Rothschilds, Cecil Rhodes, Barney Barnato, and Ludwig Neumann. They could buy me ten times over."
"I will not even dignify your ugly insinuations with a response." She presented her back to him. "You and I have nothing to say to each other. You made your position quite clear this morning, and your visit this afternoon has only served to convince me that I am doing the right thing. Please go."
Looking over Shelby's head, he met Viv's eyes. Had he made his problems worse? "I know that you are tired. I'll see you later." When she made no reply, Geoff turned to leave. Just then one of the stable boys came toward Shelby's tent, leading a magnificent buckskin stallion by the reins.
Geoff felt as if he'd been struck squarely in the chest. "Good God. It—can't be—"
Charlie came toward him whinnying, pulling the reins right out of the startled boy's hand. The reunion between Geoff and his horse was so touching that Vivian began to weep. The buckskin nosed at his master's face, seeming to smile, leaning into each glad caress of Geoff's hands.
"Miss?" the stable boy murmured to Shelby, fearful lest he'd be scolded for letting Charlie go. "Did you still want to exercise him this afternoon?"
Geoff gave the lad a cutting glance. "This horse belongs to me. You may go."
Shelby nodded as well, but as soon as the boy had dashed away, she accosted Geoff with flashing teal-blue eyes. "How dare you? You left Charlie in Wyoming, just the way you left everyone else who cared about you, and none of us thought we'd ever see you again! You have no right to barge back into our lives with this proprietary air—"
"How dare you not tell me that my horse was in London?" His tone was just as angry as hers.
"It seems that we both forgot to say a lot of things—until it was too late." Shelby went back into the tent, her voice thickening as she added, "Go ahead and take him, then. You're never satisfied until you have your own way."
* * *
The Carlton Hotel's restaurant was liberally decorated with elaborate potted palms. One of them brushed Shelby's nape each time the doors opened and the air moved, but otherwise she had no complaints. This was the first restaurant she had ever been in where music played softly in the background, and the snowy table linens, crystal, and silver dazzled the eye. Bernard Castle had ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon stuck in a bucket of ice, and Shelby feared she had drunk her first glass a bit too quickly.
"How did you like the play?" Bernard inquired over the top of his menu.
"It was quite... interesting," she replied. They had been to see something called The Cigarette Maker's Romance, which Shelby had found deadly dull. Of course, she wasn't able to concentrate on much of anything, let alone a plot line.
"I thought it would be a special treat for you, my dear, since you come from a part of the world where entertainment is wholly lacking."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Now, now. I do not wish to call into question the honor of your homeland, but it is a simple fact that the American West is a cultural wasteland, n'est-ce pas?"
"Non, ce n'est pas vrai!" Shelby shot back.
"I like you immensely! In many ways you remind me of my dear mother. Wait until you meet her! She's an absolute brick."
The manager, Cesar Ritz, appeared at that moment to chat with his dear friend Castle and suggest choices for their meal. It was eventually agreed that they would start with escargots, and the chef would choose the other eight or ten courses.
"My friend Rothschild contends that a particularly fine dish can be confected by first taking the roe of nine hen lobsters," Bernard said when Ritz had left them.
"That sounds horrid," she decided, eyeing the champagne.
"My own particular favorite is a course wherein birds of varying sizes are cooked inside one another, like those Oriental nesting boxes." He lit a cigarette. "I do hope you don't smoke. My mother despises women who smoke. Did you know that the very first Society woman who ever smoked a cigarette in public did so in this restaurant? It was three or four years ago, I b'lieve. Lady Essex..." Castle paused to drain his own glass, then added, "She was an American, of course."
Shelby was speechless. How was one to make conversation with this person? Mr. Ritz approached the table again, this time wearing a cautious expression. After pouring more champagne for both Bernard and Shelby, he turned to her and bowed.
"Miss Matthews, an important call has come through for you on the telephone. If you would be so good as to follow me, I will escort your personally."
"Oh." This was even more confusing than the play.
Who in the world would be calling her on the telephone? Who even knew she was here?
"Perhaps it's your missing uncle...?" Castle suggested. "Do hurry, my dear. It's vital that one consume one's escargots as soon as possible, and they should be arriving any second."
Shelby was wearing the yellow silk and lace gown that she'd bought in Cody for the party at the Irma Hotel. It was very pretty, and the sash still set her tiny waist off to fine effect, but she knew it wasn't much by the standards of London Society. Bernard's eyes had told her so earlier, and now the patrons of the Carlton gave her more critical glances as she passed. Up came the monocles and nose glasses. Shelby wondered why she had ever come, for she felt as out of place as Alice at the Mad Hatter's tea party.
Cesar Ritz led her into the velvet-tassel and palm-filled foyer of the restaurant, then peered back and forth, suddenly furtive. Shelby spied the telephone on a little desk with his reservation book, but the manager motioned to her to follow him again, this time into a tiny anteroom that appeared to be his private office.
"Miss," he whispered earnestly, "I must explain that I compromise my friendship with Mr. Castle tonight, and I beg you to keep this a secret from him. It is only because the Duke of Aylesbury is a personage of such noble, exalted grandeur that I am forced to put his wishes ahead of—"
"What does the Duke of Aylesbury have to do with this?" Shelby interrupted. "Where is my urgent telephone call?"
"Here," intoned a familiar voice, and Geoff stepped out from behind a coat rack. An aura of power surrounded him, more potent than Shelby had ever felt before. His eyes roamed over her, branding her as he took in every detail of her appearance, and she was thankful that she hadn't worn the finery he had purchased for their reunion night.
Of course, Shelby had no intention of conveying any of her fluttery emotions to him.
"I cannot believe you
could be so rude as to interrupt my supper with a ruse such as this!" She heard Cesar Ritz gasp in the doorway and knew she was on the right track. "Self-centered is too small a word for someone as vainglorious as you are, Your Grace!"
"She does this all the time," Geoff told the goggling Ritz. "It means nothing. This is the language of love for her." Before Shelby could protest, he gripped her arm in a way he knew she would find secretly thrilling. "Now then, before Mr. Castle comes in search of his goddess, I would like you to deliver a message to him, Cesar."
"Yes, Your Grace," he agreed, wincing in anticipation.
"Tell him that Miss Matthews has been called away and regrets that she could not bid him good evening personally."
"No! He'll think I am the rudest of wretches!" Shelby cried. "Mr. Ritz, don't listen to him! Call the police and tell them the Duke of Aylesbury is trying to kidnap one of your female patrons!"
This last wild demand sent Cesar Ritz scurrying out of the little office. Suddenly, the prospect of delivering Aylesbury's dreadful message to Bernard Castle sounded like a reprieve. He could only hope that, by the time he returned to his station, the duke would have carried that ill-bred little hoyden off into the night.
Chapter 19
The Carlton Hotel was located at the junction of Haymarket and Pall Mall, in a terribly proper quarter of London known as St. James. There was an assortment of palaces nearby, as well as the National Gallery, and the Cafe Royal and Verry's Restaurant in Regent Street. It wasn't at all the sort of place one would expect outrageous behavior to go unnoticed, especially if one were a duke.
Geoff had long since thrown caution to the wind. When he demanded to know whether Shelby would walk or be tossed over his shoulder, she agreed to cooperate.
"I feel like a hostage in a bank robbery. You might as well be holding a gun to my back," she muttered under her breath as they exited the hotel. "I can only pray that Mr. Ritz will do as I bade and use the telephone to summon the police to rescue me!"
Geoff threw her a sardonic glance. "You are confused. I am rescuing you at this moment, scamp. I know you too well to believe that you actually wanted to suffer through that ten-course meal with Castle!" His voice was laced with laughter.
"This is hardly a rescue! It is an... abduction!"
A richly dressed white-haired couple were stepping out of their automobile at that moment and paused to stare at Geoff. "Your Grace?" inquired the gentleman. "Is everything all right?"
"Quite, Sir Harry. A misunderstanding, you know." He winked over the top of Shelby's head.
"Do convey our regards to your dear mother," the woman chirped as she and her husband tottered toward the Carlton.
"Certainly, Lady Maude."
When they were gone, Geoff glanced down to find Shelby glaring at him so fiercely that he had to laugh. "Why not relax and enjoy yourself? I am."
"I demand that you take me home. Where is your carriage?"
"Actually, I didn't come by carriage." He signaled to one of the doormen, who went into an alleyway and emerged leading Charlie. Geoff slipped the man a pound note, then swung into the saddle.
Shelby was nearly overcome by the sheer lovestruck madness of the moment. Finally, starry-eyed, she allowed herself to look Geoff over, and discovered that he was wearing riding boots with a familiar pair of chinos, a chambray shirt, and a tweed jacket. He still had his clothing from Wyoming! And Charlie was wearing his western saddle!
"Come on." Geoff leaned down and swept her up in front of him, sidesaddle, his arm like steel around her midriff, while he held Charlie's reins in his other hand. The hotel's doormen gawked as if they were witnessing a vision from another age, of a knight carrying off a fair damsel.
"Did y'see the look on 'er face?" said one as the buckskin stallion walked out among the vehicles on Pall Mall.
"Right-o," replied his partner. "For all 'er protests, she fancies His Grace!"
It was a beautiful March evening, redolent of spring.
With only the streetlights to mark their way, they cantered down side streets to the Mall, a wide, triumphal way from Buckingham Palace to Trafalgar Square. Geoff waved in a cavalier fashion to startled motorists and coachmen. Charlie, meanwhile, was completely at ease, as if he were used to London, with all its people and assorted vehicles.
"How I had missed my faithful steed," Geoff said happily against Shelby's hair.
Her mind was a-tumble with memories of the last time they'd ridden together on Charlie's back, halfway across the world. They'd been returning home from rustling their own cattle on Bart Croll's ranch. What an incredible night that had been! Shelby leaned back against him now, and his arm tightened around her. More than ever, she realized how perfectly suited they were, for only Geoff could have guessed that this impetuous escapade was the surest way of all to win her heart, forever.
Charlie left the pavement and trotted into St. James Park. In the distance, Buckingham Palace was ablaze with light; Their Majesties were in residence. Clouds broke away from the moon, and its silvery iridescence filtered through the branches, giving a magical luster to the scene. Charlie meandered between the newly budding trees, heading toward the slender lake. Along the glimmery water's edge, Shelby discerned the first narcissus opening their star-shaped petals, bobbing gently in the moonlight, and there were thousands more rising above the grass. Soon the park would be carpeted with drifts of yellow blooms.
"I'll bring you back in daytime, a fortnight from now," Geoff promised in hushed tones. "The daffodils are spectacular, and the lake has every breed of water bird imaginable, many of which you'll be able to hand-feed." He paused, musing for a moment, then added, "Odd... I often think of coming for an afternoon, but never do. For years, my only view of St. James Park in spring has been from a passing vehicle...."
She didn't need to say it; life's simple pleasures were abruptly sweetened when shared with a lover.
"I think Charlie's thirsty," she said.
"Do you promise not to push me in the lake if we dismount for a bit?"
"That's a very naughty notion, Your Grace, and tempting! However, since you have removed the element of surprise, I will promise." Shelby watched as Geoff lightly swung down, then reached up to catch her. She went to him gladly, wrapping her arms around his neck, suddenly yearning to fit her body to his.
Ever discreet, Charlie ambled down to the lake's edge for a drink. Meanwhile, Geoff enfolded Shelby in his embrace, and they held on as a warm tide of need swept over them both.
"I thought I was going mad today," he said hoarsely. "The thought of that bloody Castle hovering around you—plying you with champagne and teaching you to eat cursed escargots—all the while plotting evil ways to take advantage—"
"As you are wont to do, Your Grace?"
"If you call me that again, I really will take advantage of you." It was hard to sound angry when laughter was so close at hand, so Geoff bent her backward and covered her mouth with his. Firmly, burningly, deeply, he kissed Shelby and she kissed him right back, her tongue invading his mouth, her heart racing.
"Shelby." At last, when they were both panting, Geoff drew back, his hands framing her face. In the moonlight her face was arrestingly beautiful. "My darling."
She was shivering. Tears threatened. "I can't go on this way, Geoff."
"I love you."
"I believe you—but that's not enough. You cannot lay claim to me, to my time, my body, and even my choice of friends, unless you—"
"I am. I've already made the appointments."
"You make it sound as if you're meeting with Prime Minister Balfour!" She couldn't suppress shaky laughter.
"I can assure you that the Dowager Duchess of Aylesbury is infinitely more intimidating."
"What about Lady Clementine?"
He stole the chance to caress her satiny cheek and throat, and then to press his lips to the leaping pulse at the base of her throat. "She hasn't been in all day. I'm not certain she ever came home from her riding lesson with your r
andy uncle!"
Shelby was thunderstruck, then began to giggle. "Before we imagine too much, I ought to mention that Viv persuaded Uncle Ben to help us by keeping Lady Clementine busy. Gosh, do you suppose he's actually enjoying himself?"
He paused, considering. "Anything's possible. I've always maintained that there's more to Ben than meets the eye, particularly when it comes to loving his dear niece. Perhaps he's found a way to help that suits his temperament. Deeds not words, and all that."
"It may not be anything more complicated than his love of horses." Shelby laughed as euphoria enveloped her. It was difficult not to throw off her slippers and begin cavorting through the daffodils. "Let's talk about something important, like the moonlight..."
"Mmm." His cheek grazed the silken shell of her bodice. Gently, Geoff moved the edge of the fabric down just enough so that he could kiss the high curve of Shelby's breast. Ambrosia. But then the remnants of his day-long fit of jealousy pricked at him. "I hope Castle didn't give you this gown."
"Of course not!" Shocked by such an insinuation, even if in jest, she was also reminded of the disparity in their stations. "Do you imagine that I am so provincial that I own no proper clothing?"
"Forget it," Geoff soothed. "It was a poor joke."
"Indeed!"
"Let's not argue over nonsense. I was jealous; completely to blame." He kissed her. "Forgive me. Come home with me tonight."
"I suppose we have both been rather edgy...." Her voice trailed off as Geoff's feather-soft lips aroused her beyond reason. Shelby trembled with yearning to feel his hand cupping all of her breast, his mouth hot on her nipple, his body crushing hers, his knee parting her thighs. The straining hardness in his trousers was ample proof that Geoff shared her desires, and yet Shelby suddenly felt overwhelmed, as if he held the reins and she had no control whatever.
"Wait!" Weakly, she attempted to break free. "This isn't right—not yet."
Ever the gentleman, Geoff released her, but his smoldering eyes taunted her with the knowledge that he could have easily persuaded her to yield. "You have chosen an odd moment to begin guarding your virtue."
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