Wildblossom

by Wright, Cynthia

  "'Twould seem that you no longer worry that the Wild West Show will tarnish your title," Shelby mused, a note of mischief in her voice. "I hardly would have expected you to advertise our attachment in this manner. Can you imagine what your mother would've done if she could have viewed the scene in the arena today?"

  "Devil take my mother. As for the other matter, let us agree on some rules for our marriage, hmm?"

  "Let me hear them first."

  "I'll own up to my occasional words and acts of male folly, if you'll agree to forgive me more cheerfully. How's that?"

  "Brilliant. However, I couldn't possibly make any promises."

  "Your brother informs me that it's impossible to change you."

  "That's true. I'm very impetuous... yet irresistible, don't you think?" Shelby threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately.

  "Quite," Geoff agreed when he was able to speak. He swept her up into his arms then and carried her into the tent. Wooden crates were piled everywhere, so he set Shelby down on top of the biggest one, about four feet off the ground. "I suppose it wouldn't be too awful if we do quarrel excessively, as long as you put just as much vigor into making up with me."

  Shelby was churning with emotions: euphoria over her performance and the execution of the trap-pulling trick, a bittersweet mixture of regret and relief that her time with the Wild West Show was ended, and anxious excitement about the future. Finally, ever-present, coating every other feeling, was her love for Geoff.

  Their faces were inches apart, eyes locked. He fit his hands around her waist. Shelby linked her pretty calves, encased in pearl-buttoned leggings, behind his back. "Yes. I may not be able to make promises for my temper, but I can promise to make up with you in style." She kissed Geoff lingeringly, melting into his arms when he began to deftly invade her mouth and their tongues met. One of his hands splayed over the middle of her back while the other cupped her breast, rough and tender all at once.

  Hot desire pulsed between Shelby's legs. "I wish I could just take off my clothes right here," she confessed.

  Geoff's eyes raked over her body and his jaw clenched. He wanted her so badly it hurt. Often he woke in the night, aching for Shelby, not just in lust, but longing to feel her sleeping in his arms. "I wish we were married right now," he said raggedly. "I miss you all the time." He pulled her flush against him. "I want to be inside of you—"

  Voices outside the tent announced the arrival of the footmen and grooms Geoff had assigned to move Shelby's possessions. Vivian had come along to direct them. As Shelby disengaged and straightened her clothing, she gave him a helpless look. "Tonight I'll be settled at the Savoy," she whispered.

  "Right." His left eyebrow shot up. "With your brother and your best friend and God knows who else!"

  She caressed Geoff's cheek. "I love you. Thank you for today."

  He bent close, his breath warm on her ear. "Why is it that, so much of the time, love feels like torture?"

  * * *

  Caught in a long line of carriages arriving at Devonshire House, which sprawled behind brick walls along Piccadilly, Geoff looked at his three companions in the landau and yawned. "We haven't even set foot in the place, and already I'm dead bored."

  Shelby laughed. "Why are you complaining so much these days?"

  Charles Lipton-Lyons squeezed Vivian's hand and offered, "It's actually his habit. As long as I've known Geoff, he's found every aspect of life in London numbingly tedious."

  "Yes, but now I'm here!" she rejoined.

  "My point precisely," Geoff agreed. "There are so many better things to do with our time, yet we are constantly ensnarled in these social duties...."

  Viv blushed to the roots of her hair, and Shelby cuffed his hand. As their landau reached the portico of Devonshire House, servants swarmed to assist His Grace's party. Light poured from every window, and the sounds of music and raised voices danced out on the night air.

  "It's like... a fairy tale," Vivian murmured.

  "Just try to look as if you are perfectly at home," Charles suggested gently.

  She wore a beautiful gown of pale aqua crepe, with a froth of ivory lace at her bosom to add volume where nature had skimped. Shelby had given her pearls to wear, and had seen to it that Viv's fine hair was styled to best effect. It was doubtful that anyone would mistake Vivian Croll for a noblewoman, but she possessed integrity and intelligence, valuable commodities that could not be purchased or taught.

  "Don't leave me, Charles. As long as you are holding my arm, I'll be fine."

  It was hard not to stare as they went first into the gigantic hall which was supported by pairs of pillars. Beyond was the famous crystal staircase, a marvel of wide white marble steps curving upward to the huge ballroom where most of the guests were gathered for the reception.

  "Look," Viv breathed. "The handrail is glass!" It sparkled in the light of a magnificent gas-lit chandelier. Everything in the house was gilded, it seemed, adding to the impression that they had stepped into a fairyland.

  Upstairs, Charles took Vivian into the ballroom first, to get a sense of the crowd. Out on the stair landing, Shelby leaned over the crystal balustrade and gazed down over the marble and mirrors and the lavish arrangements of flowers.

  "It's all too beautiful for words."

  "I was just thinking the same thing about you." Geoff regarded her warmly. This ordeal was almost worth it, to see Shelby looking so ravishing. Her exquisite gown was fashioned of light ciel-blue satin with a décolleté bodice edged in pearls and crystals. The pointed, tiny waist and draped skirt were embellished by more glistening stones. The gown's sleeves were short and puffed with ruffle of beaded satin. To finish the effect, Shelby wore eighteen-button gloves and carried a fan. For jewelry, she had chosen only a six-strand pearl-and-sapphire dog collar, her engagement ring, and simple pearl combs in her Gibson Girl-styled hair.

  "These occasions are much easier for you men, since you only have to get out the same winged white collar, black tie, and tailcoat," she said, straightening his tie. "But no matter what, you are always the handsomest man in every room."

  A wry smile touched Geoff's mouth as he thought that he'd never cared about his looks until the moment he'd realized they gave Shelby pleasure.

  Charles and Vivian reappeared, frowning. "I believe they may have heard you were coming. Your mother and her friends are guarding the doorway, and they cut me dead when we walked in."

  "Let them," Geoff ground out.

  "It gets worse. Three different people, including the Earl of Clyde, already asked me if I'd heard about your little performance with the Wild West Show today. Lord Clyde said that you had 'made an exhibition of yourself and dragged your rarefied title through the dirt.' "

  "He can go to the devil."

  At that, the furrow in Charles's brow only deepened. Viv put a gloved hand on Shelby's arm. "These people have been giving me terribly cold stares, but at least they don't know or care, who I am. Shelby, I'm worried that if you go in there they'll do something horrid and cruel."

  Geoff stubbornly shook his head. "They can't hurt us, and I want them to know that," he said. "Puffed-up bloody peers need to understand that we don't give a damn about them if they're going to be rude to us."

  Shelby met his eyes, her own flashing with determination. "I'm ready if you are, Your Grace. Lead on!"

  Watching them enter the gigantic Italianate ballroom, Charles grimaced and muttered to Vivian, "I say, it's rather like sending the Christians off to greet the lions...."

  Chapter 23

  Two rooms had been combined to form Devonshire House's ballroom, and the effect was dazzling. The coved ceiling was gilded and decorated in the palazzo manner, while the silk walls were covered with great, gilt-framed mirrors alternating with tall windows and priceless paintings by such artists as Jordaens and Rubens.

  Even the unflappable Shelby gasped.

  "Steady on," Geoff muttered. His eyes roved over the dense crush of gaily chattering guests, sea
rching out key faces and noting those who were already staring and whispering about the newcomers. Sure enough, there was the Dowager Duchess of Aylesbury, together with a phalanx of her most loyal friends. They were all peering at Geoff and Shelby through their nose glasses.

  Finally, Louise, Duchess of Devonshire, stepped out of the group and walked forward to greet her guests. She had been the wife of two dukes, known for decades as a beauty, but now, at seventy, the first thing Shelby noticed about her was her overuse of cosmetics.

  "Geoffrey, my dear, it is lovely to see you back from your excursion to...?"

  "Wyoming, Your Grace." Geoff took that opening to introduce her to Shelby, who behaved with impeccable decorum, using beautiful phrasing and all the right forms of address.

  The duchess's makeup cracked when she smiled. "I must confess that I did not expect to find the 'Little Trick Shooter' to be so elegant a woman. Perhaps some people have misjudged this match."

  Bowing gallantly, Geoff lifted her gloved hand to his lips. "Once again, I am impressed by your keen powers of perception, Your Grace."

  "Foolish boy. You've always been too handsome for your own good." She tapped him with her fan, then lowered her voice to add, "I am sorry about the muddled guest list. I've been awfully torn about the entire business, but Edith is one of my oldest friends...."

  "Never mind," Geoff said. "Is His Grace here tonight?"

  "When I last saw Cav, he was sitting in a chair along the far wall, pretending to listen to the orchestra, but actually asleep." Louise turned to Shelby. "I fear that my husband prefers sleeping to any other pastime."

  Geoff laughed. "I remember being with my father once in the House of Lords. The Duke of Devonshire was sitting nearby, actually snoring, so Father gave him a polite nudge. He roused himself long enough to consult his watch and exclaim, 'What a bore! I shan't be in bed for another seven hours!' "

  Amidst the laughter that followed, Shelby's eyes strayed back to Geoff's mother. "Would you think me terribly rude if I were to leave you for a moment, Your Grace? I believe that I ought to greet my future mother-in-law."

  "Dear child, your courage is commendable, but I really can't see that it's wise."

  "I won't make myself into a different person... but I can turn the other cheek." Anticipating Geoff, she added, "And I must meet this challenge alone."

  A hush seemed to sweep over the ballroom as Shelby left Geoff's side and walked toward the dowager duchess and her allies. Watching the young American draw near, they all wore wary expressions, as if they expected her to somehow demonstrate her poor breeding.

  "Good evening, Your Grace," Shelby said in tones of genuine warmth. "I wanted to greet you myself, hoping that we might begin a happier relationship. Has Geoff told you that I will no longer be appearing with—"

  "Yes, I know," Edith interjected, appalled to think that Shelby might speak the name of the Wild West Show in these surroundings. She looked away then and began to converse with one of her friends.

  Shelby swallowed. She glanced hopefully toward the other women, but they resolutely ignored her, executing what was known as the "cut direct." Her eyes stung. How could they be so cruel to a stranger? She longed to look back at Geoff so that he'd come to her rescue, but that would signal defeat.

  Instead she gathered her courage and said, "Have none of you any manners? Or, more importantly, kindness? I have done nothing to hurt you. My only crime is loving Geoff and having a mind of my own."

  The peeresses looked pinched and shocked, but before any of them could react, Consuelo, Duchess of Marlborough, emerged from the larger crowd of guests. She crossed the parquet floor, smiling, embraced Shelby, then led her away from Edith and her friends.

  "You have earned the respect of everyone in this room," Consuelo whispered. "There are nobles who are nice, most particularly Her Majesty, the Queen. I mean to encourage my own friends to override the power of Geoff's mother."

  "Thank you! I already feel much better."

  "I would love to help with your wedding preparations in any way I can. Would that suit you?"

  "Yes, please." Shelby's face shone.

  "Let's go to meet Her Majesty, then. She asked specifically to speak to you. She is only here for a little while, having ventured out without His Majesty this evening."

  "I hope she doesn't mean to scold me!"

  "Not at all. It was she who bade me fetch you from those hideous women."

  They arrived before Queen Alexandra, who was chatting happily with her daughter, Princess Toria, and with the pretty, golden-haired Daisy, Princess of Pless. However, upon glimpsing Shelby, the gracious queen broke off and held out both hands to her.

  "It is lovely to see you again, Miss Matthews. How brave you are!"

  "Thank you, Your Majesty." Shelby curtsied, pink-cheeked, then put her fingertips into the queen's hands. "I was frightened, actually, but determined. I mean to be a very good wife to Geoff and I don't think I deserve to be snubbed."

  "Charming. We shall see to it that you are included at court, won't we, ladies?"

  Consuelo slipped an arm around Shelby's waist and smiled at her. "There, you see, everything is going to be just fine. I was terrified as well, when I came to England. They told me that I must learn every word of Debrett's Peerage so that I didn't make any mistakes!" She laughed at the memory. "You've already learned the most important lesson of all: you are true to yourself."

  "Yes." Shelby looked around at her new friends with a beguiling smile. "I'm glad to know that's good, because I don't seem to be able to help it!"

  * * *

  "I do hope that the weather improves for His Grace's wedding," Meg Floss said to Parmenter as they both indulged in a second cup of tea in the servants' kitchen. It was a gray, drizzly day and no one felt much like working. "Of course, it will be May, so we should expect sunshine."

  "Just so." The old butler's jowls waggled slightly when he nodded. "So much to do in less than a fortnight!"

  Gathered round the big table were Lilith the cook, the groom of the chambers, a pair of footmen, and several kitchen maids and housemaids, all eager for more news about the wedding. "Now, tell us again, Meg, what His Grace wrote in the letter," Lilith asked once again.

  "Actually, Miss Matthews wrote most of it, and she was as frank and charming in the letter as she is in person." A smile lit Meg's thin face as she glanced down at the creamy vellum writing paper decorated with Shelby's script. "She explained that she and His Grace have decided to have the wedding that suits their characters best, rather than doing only what London Society expects."

  A wave of murmuring went around the table. "Seems to be a very sensible girl," Parmenter observed.

  "What else did she write?"

  "Miss Matthews confided that she had always dreamed of a storybook wedding, but that the usual affair at St. Paul's or Westminster Abbey would be too formal and stiff."

  Parmenter nodded. "Just so."

  "How sweet!" Lilith cried.

  "She and His Grace agree that they'll have just the sort of wedding that would suit them best right here at Sandhurst-in-the-Hole, with their friends around them! Miss Matthews wants all the trimmings, though, and plenty of guests coming in for the day, so we'll be working awful hard to prepare all the food and do up all the silk ribbons and such. She wants the chapel like a garden, she says." Meg consulted the letter before adding, "Miss Matthews is counting on all of us to make her dream come true."

  "Did she really write that last bit?" asked Jamie, the groom of the chambers.

  "Indeed she did. And she has a warm way about her, even on paper." Meg sipped her tea, considering. "I believe they may live here most of the year. After all, Miss Matthews is used to a ranch! She'll prefer country life, I'll wager."

  "Just so we have instructions and time enough to prepare properly for this wedding," Parmenter said, as he resumed worrying.

  "Do you suppose that the Duchess of Marlborough, will come?" Lilith wondered. "I read in Tit-Bits that she ha
s become a great chum of Miss Matthews."

  Before anyone could comment on this, there was a knock at the back door of the servants' hall. "Perhaps it's the coal man," Meg said. "I'll go and see."

  When Meg pulled open the heavy door, she discovered an unpleasantly grizzled old man standing outside. His frayed collar was turned up against the damp, and he had several days of white stubble covering his hollow cheeks. The fellow had been rolling a cigarette with stained, cracked fingers as Meg opened the door, but now he looked up and his sunken eyes sent a chill down her back.

  "How may I help you, sir?"

  "I'm lookin' for work, ma'am," he replied in a raspy voice.

  "You're an American!" she exclaimed in surprise.

  "Somethin' wrong with that?" He took a step toward her.

  "Certainly not. In fact, our master, the Duke of Aylesbury, is about to be married to a lovely American woman. It's simply that we don't encounter many of you out here."

  The light in his eyes grew brighter. "I need work."

  "I am Meg Floss, the housekeeper here at Sandhurst Manor. What is your name, sir?"

  Momentarily flummoxed by her question, he stammered, "Uh—it's Ted. Ted, uh—Bart. That is, Bartell. Ted Bartell."

  All of her suspicions piqued, Meg replied, "Well, Mr. Bartell, I'm afraid that we don't have room for any more employees. In fact, His Grace is searching for ways to trim the staff here, and already some of us are looking for work in the village."

  "Would you turn away a hungry man who's willin' to work?"

  His words struck right to her kind heart. They could find something for him—outside. "Come in, then, and we'll give you a hot meal... and some soap and hot water. Perhaps we can find something for you to do for a few days, then; long enough for you to earn enough to carry you along into May." Reluctantly, Meg stood back so that the horrid man could enter. "The grounds keeper may need you. We're having a wedding here in the chapel in less than a fortnight, and there's a great deal to prepare."

  Ted Bartell smiled suddenly, like a ghoul. "Good. That's just the kind of news I was hopin' for...."