by Regina Scott
Geoffrey tried another roundhouse swing, only to find that the marquis was ready for him. Not only ready, but the man had obviously taken his measure. He blocked with his left and jabbed Geoffrey hard on the chin with his right. Pain shot up his jaw and instead of stepping back, he stumbled. DeGuis closed, but Geoffrey managed to turn under the blow. Straightening, he widened the distance between them.
“You’ll never win that way, Pentercast,” the marquis called. “My reach is as long as yours; neither of us can get a blow in this way.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Geoffrey replied. He burst out of his half crouch and slammed his fist toward the marquis nose. Again, the man blocked him easily, and again Geoffrey felt the sting of another hit, this time in the mouth. He fell back and licked the blood from his split lip.
“You can see our differences rather clearly this way,” the marquis said, breath coming quickly as he returned to his circling move. “You fight full of passion and heedless enthusiasm. I consider the impact of my blows before delivering them.”
“You keep a cool head,” Geoffrey allowed, determined not to be hit again. “Most people would call that an admirable quality.”
“But you don’t,” DeGuis taunted.
“I,” Geoffrey replied, dropping his guard only slightly and watching him, “am not most people.”
The marquis couldn’t pass up an easy opening, just as Geoffrey had hoped. His upper cut whizzed within inches of Geoffrey’s nose, the breeze fanning his cheeks. Geoffrey rushed in under the arm, grabbing him in a bear hug and crushing his ribs. The marquis brought an elbow down between his shoulder blades, but Geoffrey hung on and squeezed. Then he tightened his leg muscles, strained his back and heaved the marquis up and off his feet. Geoffrey hurled him back into a tree and watched in satisfaction as he slid to the ground at its base.
He wiped the blood off his lip with the back of his hand and waited for DeGuis to rise. Instead, the man only regarded him.
“I repeat,” he said, breath coming in gulps, “you’ll make her a horrid husband. I stand by my words.”
“Stand?” Geoffrey scoffed. “You can’t even get up. Admit it, my fine marquis. I’ve beaten you.”
DeGuis pushed himself to his feet, wincing, and attempted to straighten. He teetered, but only got halfway up before he cringed, clutching his ribs, and stopped. “Yes, you’ve beaten me. But you haven’t won. Don’t you see, Pentercast? You’re a sham of a gentleman. Miss Munroe may be fooled, but I’m not. You’re an animal, an ogre. You’re not fit to be found in polite Society, and you’re certainly not good enough to marry a wonderful woman like Allison Munroe.”
“Enough!” Geoffrey shouted at him, maddened beyond all reason. “One more word and so help me, I’ll flatten you again!”
The marquis shook his head. “You can flatten me as often as you like. It won’t change the facts. If you were any kind of man, you’d let her find some other fellow to wed. You’d do the honorable thing and walk away.”
“I said enough!”
“You claim to love her,” DeGuis continued, each word a nail in Geoffrey’s heart, “but you expect her to stay tied to you in this miserable little backwater in some hovel you’ll build. What will you do, Geoffrey, when she realizes what she’s given up for you? Or do you plan to keep her breeding so she’s too busy taking care of a pack of animals like their father to wonder what brought her to this pass? Or are you going to knock her off her feet as well?”
“Get up,” Geoffrey snarled, bending to retrieve his coat and throwing it at him. “Get up and get out of Wenwood. If I ever see you here again, I’ll…”
“Yes, I know,” the marquis replied dryly, struggling to his feet. “You’ll knock me down again. How very original. Goodbye, Pentercast. Try to find some place in that primitive brain of yours to think about what I’ve said. Allison is too fine a woman to be saddled with the likes of you.” He managed to limp back down the path toward the Abbey.
Geoffrey watched him go, chest heaving. The sheer arrogance of the man! It could only be envy talking. Geoffrey still had a chance to win Allison where the marquis had destroyed his. He ought to pity the man.
But as he picked up his own coat and started once more for home, the words seemed to hang in the air around him. He was a bear of a man, everyone from his family to the village lads in Wenwood to the few citizens of London he had met would agree with that. He was tough and gruff and had far too many rough edges to play the polished Corinthian for long. Truth be told, he had always rather prided himself on the fact that he didn’t put on airs above his station. He was the second son of a country squire. If Alan hadn’t been such a caring brother, Geoffrey would have been cannon fodder for Wellington’s army long since.
He’d tried to polish himself to win Allison, of course. And he thought he had made a credible Society gentleman, at least for a short time. He hadn’t thought Allison had enjoyed playing the Society belle. She seemed much more at ease here in the country.
But a part of him argued that she did deserve better. DeGuis was right when he had said she was a fine woman. Geoffrey had never met her match. There wasn’t a woman in Wenwood or the surrounding countryside who could dance and ride and laugh as well as Allison Munroe. And while some might have a greater claim to beauty, none of them moved him as she did. But there he was, thinking about his own wants and needs again. What of Allison’s?
Would she be better off if he gave up his suit? There had been other lads at the Barnsley Assembly who would have been only too glad to court her, if they had been sure that she wasn’t already taken with the marquis. If Chas Prestwick hadn’t repaired to London, he would have probably been after her. Of course, he was only a second son as well, but the second son of an earl was far more impressive than a second son of a squire. Tom Harvey had been smiling at her for years, but she’d never noticed. No, Allison would have no lack of suitors once word got out that she was available again.
Which meant that if he wanted to keep her, he had to act quickly. But should he act at all? She had yet to claim she loved him, their tremendous kiss notwithstanding. Instead of hounding her as the marquis had done, perhaps it was the best thing for everyone if he simply let nature take its course. Perhaps the best thing was to give Allison some time to think.
Only he was afraid that if he thought much more, he would end up doing exactly as the marquis had suggested and walk away forever.
Chapter Nineteen
“Turned you down, did she?” Enoch growled, dabbing Geoffrey’s lip with witch hazel.
Geoffrey grimaced at the pain the man’s touch brought. “Yes,” he mumbled through the ministrations, glad that the grooms were out in the fields with the horses that afternoon. He didn’t much need additional eyes to witness his misery. “I guess you can say that I got both my lip and my heart bloodied.”
“Witch hazel only works on lips,” Enoch replied, tossing the piece of cloth he had been using into a dust bin at the side of the great oak work table. “So, what now?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “I don’t know. His lordship said I should do the honorable thing and let her go.”
“What do you think?” Enoch asked him, sharp eyes narrowed.
“I don’t know,” Geoffrey repeated, wriggling on the hard wood stool under the man’s continued stare.
Enoch dusted off his hands on his tattered tweed work clothes. “Well, you’re not a great deal of use today, are you now? Perhaps his nibs was right: You don’t deserve a lovely young lady like Miss Allison.”
Geoffrey closed his eyes, trying to ignore the throb from his lip. “You don’t have to confirm it.”
“Then again,” Enoch continued thoughtfully, “there’s those who say that Miss Allison brought all this on her own head. Those Munroe women have always been a bit on the wayward side.”
“Don’t start,” Geoffrey growled, eyes snapping open. “I said as much last night, and I’ve been regretting it since. It isn’t Allison’s behavior that’s lacking;
it’s my own.”
Enoch cocked his head. “Sure of that, are you? Seems to me that she’s kept the two of you caged all Season, like the pet ferret she keeps.”
“I gave her that ferret,” Geoffrey informed him testily. “It wouldn’t be in a cage but for me.” He stopped for a moment, staring at Enoch. “And I wouldn’t be either! Nor would the marquis, if we’d have had the good sense to get ourselves out.”
“Now what are you nattering on about?” Enoch demanded.
Geoffrey was too excited to let the matter go, hopping off the stool to pace about the straw-strewn plank flooring. “Don’t you see, Enoch? DeGuis and I both put ourselves in cages, and we’ve been trying to get out of them all Season. The marquis locked himself in when he tried to get Allison’s hand without going to her first. That fact cost him her respect. He’s been trying to get out of that ever since.”
“I’ll give you it was a mistake not to go straight to the girl,” Enoch allowed. “But what about you?”
“I was even more blind. I locked myself in when I tried to be something I’m not. I spent all Season trying to please my family, Allison’s family, even the marquis! I was so proud of how I’d changed. I never really thought about just being myself.”
“Thought that’s what you did last night,” Enoch muttered.
Geoffrey hung his head. “I suppose I did. But that was a mistake as well. You once asked me what Alan expected me to learn from my time with you. I think I finally understand what that is. If I’d seen it sooner, I might have been married to Allison by now. It is so simple: Being myself is no excuse for being less to others.” He reached for his great coat, thrown hurriedly over one of the other stools at the work table. “Thank you, Enoch, for all you’ve taught me. I know what I have to do now. Wish me luck.”
“I’d be happy to,” the man grumbled, eyeing him as he strode to the door, “if I knew what it was you were going to do.”
“I’m going to do the thing I wanted to do all Season,” Geoffrey declared. “I’m going to tell Allison Munroe I love her and ask her to marry me. And this time, I’m going to do it my way.”
–
Allison wandered down the corridor of the Manor, ill at ease and at a loss for what to do next. Her mother and her had seen Thomas off only hours before. She was sure she had shocked them both when she had impulsively hugged the poor man. The grimace on his face as she pulled away had been evidence of that. But she was truly sorry things hadn’t worked out differently. And she was still embarrassed for her family, and her village, that Geoffrey had gone so far as to burn the poor man in effigy last night.
She found herself in the music room and plunked herself down at the spinet, running a hand up the keys. The octave sounded sad to her. She let her hands fall to the sides of her green sprigged muslin gown and sighed. First too many suitors and now not enough. Apparently she simply couldn’t have things the way she wanted them.
And what did she want? Her hand drifted to her mouth as she remembered Geoffrey’s kiss. The only word for it was impressive. If he’d have kissed Lady Janice like that, the girl would have defied her parents to marry him, Allison was sure. Why, half the unmarried ladies in Wenwood would have married him for such a kiss! And she had declared in ringing tones that nothing would prevail upon her to do so. She shook her head. How very foolish.
Did she love Geoffrey? Not for the first time did she wish her father was still alive. Rutherford Munroe had been a man who lived life to its fullest. He would have been able to advise her, she was sure, as to what her heart was trying to say. If only her mother was more approachable.
As if conjured by her thoughts, her mother moved into the room, Perkins at her heels like an elderly spaniel. She spied Allison at the spinet and paused. “Were you going to play, my dear?”
“No,” Allison said with a sigh, rising to make way for her mother. “Please play if you wish, Mother.”
Her mother nodded, spreading her lavender skirts to sit on the bench. Her hands moved over the keys, and a soft melody drifted from the instrument. Allison wandered over and sank onto the sofa. She tried to ignore Perkins at his post beside the door.
“You seem out of sorts today,” her mother mused over the music. “Do you miss London?”
Allison shuddered. “No, I do not. I never thought I’d say this, Mother, but I quite prefer the country. If I never return to London, it will be too soon.”
Her mother frowned, but Allison couldn’t tell if she were trying to concentrate on the music before her or whether she disagreed with Allison’s opinion. “Then you are determined to follow this course of becoming a governess.”
“No, I only said that to prove to you how determined I am to make my own way. Not that I wouldn’t go through with it,” she hurried on when her mother eyed her in a particularly calculating manner. “It simply would not be my first choice.”
“Then you still believe in finding a husband,” her mother murmured, hope evident despite her calm demeanor.
“Yes, I do,” Allison declared. “I only wish…”
“What?” her mother prompted.
Allison sighed again. “I only wish I knew more about love.”
“Perkins,” her mother intoned, startling Allison with the severity of her tone. “Please fetch us some tea.” As the butler bowed and made his slow way down the corridor, she nodded to her daughter. “Pray continue, Allison.”
Allison struggled not to frown. Her mother was obviously trying to give them an opportunity to really talk for a change. After recent events, she wasn’t sure she was willing to do so. She watched her mother for a moment, then decided that nothing ventured was nothing gained. “Did you love Father, Mother?”
To her surprise, the sweetest of smiles spread on her mother’s face, turning the grey eyes to quicksilver and making her look years younger. “Oh, yes, Allison. I don’t think it’s possible I could have loved him more. He was the most wonderful man in the world! He was thoughtful, he was generous, he was kind. There wasn’t a person who didn’t like him, from the moment they laid eyes on him. He had the uncanny knack of knowing when to be silent in understanding and when to make one laugh, even at oneself. I…I miss him terribly.” She stopped playing and hung her head, sniffing back a sob.
Allison leapt from the sofa and ran to give her a fierce hug. Her mother held her close, and Allison could feel her shaking. “Oh, Mother, I’m so sorry,” she offered, ashamed not to have asked before. “I never knew. I wasn’t even sure you liked him!”
“Liking and loving are two different things,” her mother said, straightening to tug a handkerchief from her sleeve. “There were times when your father’s behavior was not what I would have chosen. However, I always loved him.” She dabbed at her eyes, and Allison looked away, concerned she was making her mother feel self-conscious. When she was sure her mother had recovered, she couldn’t help continuing the conversation.
“How did you know you loved him?”
Her mother looked thoughtful. “I think I knew it when I realized I was only truly alive when I was with him. He had a way of making me feel as if I was capable of anything. Nothing was ever too daunting or difficult for Rutherford. He had that kind of attitude that made you believe you could fly, if you wanted to.”
Allison smiled. “I remember.”
Her mother eyed her. “The marquis never made you feel that way, did he?”
She shook her head. “I was never sure what to do or say around him. It was rather awkward really. The only person besides Father who ever made me feel as if I was the best person in the world is…” She stared at her mother and slowly rose to her feet.
“Geoffrey Pentercast,” her mother finished for her, grimacing.
Allison nodded numbly. “Yes, how did you know?”
“You seem happier with him than with anyone,” her mother replied with a sigh. “I had hoped it was only a momentary fancy, but I should have known better. It appears I shall have to have two Pentercast son-in-laws.”
>
“But, Mother,” Allison protested, feeling suddenly breathless, “we disagree so often. He can make me furious!”
“Would you rather have a life with someone like the marquis who never made you feel anything at all?” her mother asked.
Allison shook her head, feeling a smile spreading. “No, never.” She threw her arms about her mother and squeezed her tight. “Oh, Mother, thank you! You’ve no idea how much you’ve helped.”
“I can be good for some things,” her mother said with a sniff. “Now, if you please, you have delayed my practice long enough. I believe you have other things you wish to do.”
Allison laughed, jumping to her feet. “Yes, thank you. I’m going riding.”
“Try not to talk to Enoch McCreedy,” her mother cautioned as she dashed for the door. “That man is the most uncivil person I know.”
Allison grinned. “Yes, Mother. And if I do, I shall try to moderate my tone.”
–
Allison changed into her blue velvet riding habit and had the groom saddle Blackie. How could she have been so blind? She had been so intent on looking for an overwhelming passion, she had disregarded the warmth and happiness she already had. In a sense, she supposed, both her cousin Margaret and Lady Janice were right. Love was bound up with friendship, admiration, and commonality of purpose, but it had a spark of something more. And she had found all those things in Geoffrey. Why did she need to look any further?
She was completely intent on riding down the drive and across the fields to Enoch McCreedy’s farm, where she was sure she’d find Geoffrey this time of day. Unfortunately, she only made it to the bend in the drive that connected with the lane to the Manor. Sitting squat in the way stood the brown-lacquered hulk of the Pentercast carriage. The four matching bay horses fretted in the traces, the driver was nowhere in sight, and the attendant groom in his brown tweed jacket was peering into the open door of the carriage as if something or someone inside had captured all his attention.