"Were you not drinking champagne at the Palm Court with Bernard Castle?" the dowager duchess demanded of Shelby.
"I only went because Geoff forbade it," she replied softly. "And I had just met Mr. Castle a few hours earlier, Your Grace. And Geoff took me away from the Palm Court before I'd eaten one bite of food." Shelby paused, considering her next words. "However, I prefer not to judge people in advance or listen to gossip. I might have gone for supper with Bernard Castle even if I had known the rumors about him. You see, Geoff was still betrothed to Lady Clementine Beech at that time. I had no idea that I would ever be in this position."
"Did you not? 'Twould seem to me that you planned your strategy quite shrewdly, my girl; so shrewdly that my son believed you were completely guileless."
Geoff shook his head, enraged beyond memory. "What are you doing? Do you wish to separate yourself from me for the rest of your life?"
"Not at all." Edith stared back at him with beautiful brown eyes. "But we shall have to work diligently to alter perceptions of Miss Matthews if she truly is to become the Duchess of Aylesbury. Of course, she will have to move into this house immediately, and cease performing with that troupe of players."
Shelby managed a faltering smile. "I have no wish to argue with you on the occasion of our first meeting, Your Grace, but I have given Colonel Cody my word that I will continue with the Wild West Show through the spring. They need me."
"Have we all gone raving mad?" cried Geoff. "We're discussing long-range personal plans while standing in the corridor! Mother, you will have to give Shelby and me a chance to sort some of these matters out ourselves. We've only just gotten engaged this afternoon, for God's sake!"
"I must ask you once again not to curse in my presence, Geoffrey," she interjected coolly.
The muscle jumped in his jaw. "I'll be in touch with you soon to let you know what Shelby and I have decided."
"But—certainly you don't plan to have a wedding of any size, given Miss Matthews's background? I thought a family ceremony at the chapel in Sandhurst Manor might be nice, don't you agree? The village vicar is a lovely man."
Sensing that Geoff was longing to strangle his mother, Shelby extended her hand again and tried to speak with genuine warmth. "Meeting you has been one of the memorable experiences of my life, Your Grace. Good-bye."
The dowager duchess turned away then and started toward the rear stairway without a word of farewell.
* * *
After arriving at his own house and drinking two whiskeys, Geoff's spirits began to lighten. Shelby sipped wine, still looking stunned, while he regaled Charles and Vivian with the story of his mother's "devilish" performance.
"Sometimes I wish she would just go to Yorkshire and live at Aylesbury Castle, since that's what she insists she would rather do," he said in conclusion, pacing in front of his audience of three in the library filled with Chippendale furniture, glowing wood paneling, and thousands of books. "I know that must sound cruel, but she is inviting that when she behaves that way."
Charles cleared his throat. "I don't think that Her Grace meant to be cruel, really I don't." His eyes shifted to Vivian, who was perched nervously on the edge of a forest green wing chair. "She's much more complicated than that; I've always sensed it."
"Have you indeed?" Geoff slanted a sardonic glance his way. "I can see you'd like to enlighten us, but I've had enough of my mother for one day." He dropped down on the sofa next to Shelby, gently took her hand, then looked from Vivian to Charles. "I hope you two have been dealing together tolerably well, since I threw you together without even an introduction."
"Why, Viv," Shelby remarked, "you're so pink. Are you warm?"
"No, no, just pleased—for you! Pleased to be here with you and Geoff and—Charles." Her cheeks burned hotter as she spoke his name. Thanks to Shelby's ministrations, Viv looked almost pretty, her hair pinned up and puffed out over carefully placed pads, her plain features enhanced with deftly applied cosmetics, and her thin figure reshaped by a new corset and a frothy powder-blue gown. Most effective of all, however, was the soft glow of budding happiness that replaced Viv's previous frightened-fawn demeanor.
"Actually," Charles volunteered, "Vivian and I find that we get along very nicely. We have a great many shared interests."
Both Geoff and Shelby were taken aback by this last comment, but neither could think of a way to inquire how Charles and Vivian could have discovered this so quickly.
Just then supper was announced, and the foursome went into the great dining room. Shelby was staring everywhere she went in Geoff's house, fascinated by the notion that soon they would live here together as husband and wife.
"Do you like it?" Geoff asked. He'd redone the room, as well as a few others, on the advice of a highborn lover a half-dozen years ago. The walls were covered with dull gold silk, the windows were dressed in tasteful cobalt blue and gold stripes, and the furnishings were classical Sheraton antiques.
"It's lovely," Shelby replied honestly. She sensed the hand of a ghost from his past, but didn't mind. It was Shelby whom he meant to marry, against all odds and opposition. "But Geoff, there are only four places. Where will Mr. Manypenny sit?"
"Miss Matthews," Charles said with a nervous laugh, "are you having us on?"
Geoff bent next to Shelby and said softly, "Darling, we are not in Wyoming any longer. The servants have their own quarters, below us, and their own kitchen. Manypenny would be horrified by the thought of joining us."
"But you promised that I should see him tonight! I was looking forward to sitting beside him and chatting about everything that has happened to both of us since we last spoke in August!" She set her chin. "Percy is my friend."
"I'd enjoy a visit with Mr. Manypenny, too," Vivian volunteered loyally.
"All right, then." He sighed. "I'll go and ask him."
When Geoff had left the room, Shelby turned to Charles with a smile designed to melt his resistance. "Geoff has told me so much about you, and all your shared adventures over the years. I hope that we'll become friends, Charles... and that you will call me Shelby."
His eyes widened. "I say, you Americans don't mince words, do you? All right then, let's be friends. Geoff has been moping about like a lost pup since he left you behind, so I suppose everything has turned out for the best." Charles extended his hand. "Welcome, Shelby. And congratulations to both of you."
She shocked him further by coming closer on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Charles. You must be a wonderful friend, for Geoff to have named his horse after you!"
"Did he really? Not sure I care for that." Lipton-Lyons blushed. "Well, while we're chatting, I ought to give myself credit for bringing the pair of you together. It was I who convinced old Geoff to go to Wyoming at all!"
Before Shelby could reply, Geoff reappeared in the doorway. "Look who's come to dine with us." Standing aside, he revealed the towering frame of Manypenny, who crossed the threshold wearing a tentative expression.
"Percy! How I've missed you!" Shelby dashed straight to the elderly manservant and wrapped her arms around his torso. A big tear trickled down her cheek. "Oh, look, I'm making another scene. Do you mind?"
He was nonplussed for a moment, then a smile spread over his long face and he patted her back. "Not at all. It's simply splendid to have you back among us, Miss Matthews. Words fail me."
"Are you going to join us for dinner, then?"
"Just this once, only because it is an occasion without peer." Manypenny stepped back and attempted to regain his composure. "His Grace is correct, however, to remind you that circumstances in England cannot be as they were in America. Life is much simpler if we all keep to our prescribed roles."
"It's all a lot of pretentious nonsense, if you ask me—but of course, nobody has asked me, so I'll try to adapt."
As they gathered around the table, with Geoff at one end and Charles at the other, Manypenny took the opportunity to lean down and tell Shelby, "I must congratulate you and His Grace
on your betrothal. I couldn't be more pleased if I had made the plans myself."
Vivian glanced up from across the table and smiled at the old gentleman. When everyone was seated, she spoke up suddenly. "May I say something? Now that everything has worked out for our friends, Shelby and—uh, His Gra—"
"For God's sake, call me Geoff," he insisted.
"Thank you, Geoff. What I want to divulge is the fact that most of us were acquainted before tonight, and not just in Wyoming. I came to visit Mr. Manypenny some days ago, to let him know that Shelby and I were in London and enlist his help in reuniting them. That same day, Charles and I introduced ourselves outside this house, but he was sworn to secrecy because I couldn't let Geoff know. So you see... Charles and I were already... friendly before this evening."
Shelby and Geoff made exclamations of pleasure over this news, while Lipton-Lyons's pale skin grew flushed again. "I was drawn to Vivian from the moment I saw her. She is demure and ladylike, yet refreshingly honest, and possesses inner strength that is rare among members of the weaker sex."
"I beg your pardon," Shelby countered. "Inner strength is hardly rare—"
"Darling, do try to relax," Geoff interrupted, covering her hand with his. "You don't need to take issue with every spoken word with which you differ... particularly after you become duchess. It might be wise to begin practicing now to simply smile and remind yourself that most people don't mean to be idiots; I fear that faux pas come all too easily to us Brits."
"I'm not sure I am very well suited to these duchess rules," she replied with a little frown.
The first course, consisting of julienne soup and baked mullets in paper cases, was served. While the others began to eat and Shelby eyed her food dubiously, Geoff leaned over to whisper to her, "Have I not been careful to warn you that becoming Duchess of Aylesbury is not a position to which anyone of sound mind would aspire?"
"Yes. But I love you, Geoff."
"I'm glad to hear it. We'll sort out the rest later."
Still whispering, she asked, "What is this horrid-smelling thing in the paper?"
"Mullet." Laughter welled up in him. "It's a fish."
She started to wrinkle her nose, then put on a very serene expression instead. "There. Did I look like a duchess then?"
"It's a start." Waves of affection and desire broke over him, and he badly wanted to have Shelby herself for dinner.
As the meal progressed, with boiled leg of pork with pease pudding and roast fowls garnished with watercress, Shelby excitedly told Manypenny about the grand opening of the Irma Hotel and how she had come to join the Wild West Show. Geoff had only heard the story in bits and pieces, so he, too, listened with interest.
"I confess that I am fascinated by this drama," Charles said, "and I was terribly impressed by your talent when I saw you perform recently. Will you be very sorry to cut short your career as a sharpshooter?"
"I don't understand," Shelby said sweetly.
"I'm referring to the fact that your engagement to the Duke of Aylesbury must necessitate your withdrawal from the Wild West Show. I thought that perhaps you would be a bit sad to leave so soon after your debut."
"But I don't intend to leave. Colonel Cody was kind enough to make a verbal agreement with me, rather than a contract, and I intend to honor it." She took a sip of wine, adding, "He seems to feel that people may be coming to see me, though I don't quite understand it, and so I shall continue to perform through the spring, until the show leaves London."
"Shelby is used to making decisions on her own, without consulting a partner," Geoff interjected in a carefully patient voice. "We have yet to discuss this matter together." Then, casting about for a way to change the subject before they had another argument in public, he turned to Vivian. "I hope I'm not putting a foot wrong here, but I have been meaning to ask you... how did you ever persuade my old nemesis, Bart Croll, to let you go?"
Viv went as white as the table linens, gazing at Shelby with stricken blue eyes. Geoff's innocent question had served to instantly plunge her back into the horror and degradation of life in the smoky, dirty sod prison she'd shared with Croll.
Shelby rushed to her aid. "Geoff, are you vying with me for the evening's indiscretion honors?" Everyone fell silent as the footman served gooseberry tarts, trifle, and Swiss cream. Shelby took a moment to think, waiting until the guests were alone again before continuing, "Perhaps it's best to bring this sore subject into the open, then bury it forever. Since we are among friends, we can be frank, but I know that dear Viv does not wish to speak of this after tonight."
"Fr-Frank?" the girl gasped.
"Yes. There's no shame in it, after all! The truth is that Viv worked up the courage to break free from that horrid man, to leave her marriage and come with Ben and me to London—"
"Here here!" put in Manypenny. "Well done."
"Indeed," Shelby affirmed. "He was worse than a beast, and she never should have married him, in spite of feeling that he'd rescued her." She glanced at Charles. "I know Viv will explain about the tragic fire that took her family, if she hasn't already. Bart Croll offered her shelter at the most vulnerable moment in her life, but then he mistreated her—much more than any of us ever guessed."
Her head bowed, Vivian could only nod.
"Well, she ran away from him, and since then we have heard that he died in some sort of accident, so it's all in the past, where it belongs."
"Died?" Geoff echoed rather doubtfully.
Charles reached for Vivian's hand, and she raised her eyes, relieved to hear the way her friend had ended the story. "Yes. It's over. Bart can't hurt me anymore...."
Manypenny's great brow relaxed. "I say, how relieved I am to hear that the villain Croll is dead! Because, you see, I had a chilling experience the other day, and I've been feeling quite haunted since then. I was in Clifford Street, visiting His Grace's tailor, and I saw a man in a passing carriage who looked exactly like that dreadful fellow! Quite an eerie moment, but now I know that it simply could not have been—"
The old manservant broke off, mid-sentence, at the sight of Vivian sliding out of her chair and onto the Turkish rug in a dead faint.
Chapter 21
"I still say there's something you haven't told me about Vivian and Bart Croll," Geoff said to Shelby as she perused the bookshelves in the firelit library. Manypenny, after one spoonful of Swiss cream, had retreated to the comforts of his own room downstairs, and their other guests hadn't lingered long beyond Viv's recovery from her swoon. Charles had assured Shelby that he would see her friend home safely and remain with her for as long as he was needed.
"I'm happy to know that you can read me so well, Geoff, but I cannot comment about Viv."
"If Bart is safely dead and no longer a threat, why did she keel over upon hearing Manypenny's little story?"
"Well," she wet her lips and examined a gold-stamped volume of Dickens, "I suppose there is always the fear that the story of his death was some sort of ghoulish mistake. Yes, that's it! Really, wouldn't that be a nightmare come to life? To have him turn up here?"
"But Shelby, even if that were the case, Vivian hasn't any reason to fear Bart—certainly not so that she'd faint at the chance he might be in London! He did let her go after all." Geoff came up behind her and leaned around to scan her face. "Right?"
"Mmm-hmm." She was dying to tell him the same horrific tale that had so shocked her: that Viv had put rat poison in Bart's potatoes and left him writhing on the dirt floor, moments from death. However, Shelby had been entrusted with secrets too dark to betray. Instead, she held up Oliver Twist and remarked, "This is an awfully handsome edition. I can't tell you how impressed I am with your library."
"Can I give you a more thorough tour?" Geoff slid the book back into its niche and took Shelby in his arms. "Upstairs, perhaps?"
"Not until our wedding night, my naughty duke." Her face was lit by a wide, sparkling smile.
"Let's get married, then. I hate to give Mother undue credit, but
her idea about the chapel at Sandhurst Manor wasn't half bad. I'm quite attached to it, and a wedding there would be so much simpler."
Shelby didn't answer, but her smile lost its luster and there was a hint of something in her eyes that Geoff struggled to analyze. He tried a different tack. "I hope you don't imagine that I agree with her—that we should marry in the country because we have something to hide, or that you are in any way unsuitable—"
"Of course not."
"I only mean—one would assume you wouldn't want all the fuss and pomp of a huge wedding here in London—that you'd prefer something small and simple."
"It seems that you know me very well, Geoff."
She was fiddling with another book, and for an instant he thought he saw a gleam of moisture in her eyes. Why, he wondered in frustration, was she so blunt about every subject except this? "Have I got it all wrong?"
"You must do what you think best." Shelby climbed a few steps up the library ladder and her skirts whisked toward his face. "I know that you've taken on a lot of trouble with this wedding to me, and I promised myself long ago in Cody that, if I were lucky enough to find myself in this position, I should make whatever concessions were necessary."
Was she bothered because everyone else was making decisions for her? But what about her own stubborn insistence upon continuing to perform with the Wild West Show? His head hurt. "Shelby, come down from there, would you? I'd like to talk to you."
Geoff's arms were outstretched, and she let him catch her, let him see the utterly vulnerable look in her eyes. The pins were loosening a bit in her hair, and a few tendrils brushed her temples and brow.
"You are so damned beautiful." Geoff kissed her gently, tasting each curve and corner of her mouth.
Shelby released a big sigh, blinking back tears, and struggled to be set on her feet. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Perhaps you should take me home."
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