by Ella Quinn
The duke wanted as many of his Peninsular army as possible. Unfortunately, many of them were still in America fighting a war England could not possibly win. Half of the ton, including the Duchess of Richmond, had decided to remove to Brussels when Napoleon escaped from Elbe. Although to be fair to the duchess, her husband had been posted to Brussels. She was not there, as many of his other countrymen and women were, to frolic in Europe.
And then there was the drama surrounding the Prince of Orange who had been placed in charge of the allied military until Wellington arrived. Rumor had it that even Sir Charles had had a devil of a time reining in his majesty. Even with all that going on the great man himself did not arrive until the fifth of April.
Geoff could not imagine anything more exciting than to be in the middle of all the preparations for the battle and the subsequent reinstatement of King Louis XVIII to the throne.
Having been advised how difficult it was becoming to find suitable quarters, his father had already arranged houses for Geoff and his wife in The Hague, Ghent, and Brussels. It was expected that they would entertain foreign and British officers and their wives as well as the Prince of Orange, and other dignitaries.
Charlotte, he knew, would have been the shining star of the government’s delegation. He just prayed the lady he ended up marrying could do half as well.
His valet appeared at the door. “My lord, your bath is ready.”
“Thank you, Nettle.”
A few minutes later, Geoff sank into the hot water and tried to relax. But thinking what his father would have to say about his failure to wed Charlotte made his muscles tighten despite the warm water. He must write to Father before he found out about Geoff’s failure from some other source.
Abandoning his bath, he quickly dried himself, pulled on a pair of breeches and a shirt, and sat at his desk.
Yet, before he had finished mending his pen, Nettle appeared with a letter. “From his lordship your father, my lord.”
“Perdition.” This could not bode well for him.
Geoff braced himself for the scathing commentary on his being such a gudgeon as to not have been able to secure Lady Charlotte he was sure the missive held. He poured another glass of madeira, took a swallow, and pried open the seal.
My dear Harrington,
That was unexpected.
It has come to my attention that Lady Charlotte Carpenter is betrothed to the Marquis of Kenilworth. According to your mother, who was the bearer of this unfortunate piece of information—Geoff was sincerely thankful he had not had to give his father the bad news—the fault is entirely mine. If (again according to your mother) I had not insisted on you attending me, you would most likely be celebrating your nuptials to the lady.
That was most likely the truth. If he’d been in Town, he would have made absolutely sure Charlotte had not gotten to know Kenilworth.
Your mother has also informed me (As you might be able to ascertain this is becoming wearing. I have never known myself to be so mistaken in so many things at one time) that you have shown yourself to be capable of selecting your own bride and, in the event you require advice, your grandmother and Cousin Apollonia are in Town to provide you any guidance you might require.
Your mother has also included a short list of ladies you might consider, but are not to feel constrained to offer for. (I honestly do not know why she did not write to you herself.)
Aside from that, you no longer have the leisure to wait on me again. I am reminded that you did not have time to come here in the first place. Therefore, I must accept your decision concerning a bride.
As you already have a copy of the settlement agreements I had drawn up, feel free to contact Fielding & Connors, our London solicitors, to tailor the agreements to the lady you select.
Yr. father,
Markham
Geoff read the letter twice more to make certain that the missive was indeed from his father. The words were as close as the old man had ever come to apologizing for anything. No doubt he had his mother to thank for that. Mama had been visiting her mother in Bath when Geoff had been home. Otherwise he was certain he would have known about Lady Charlotte’s betrothal to Kenilworth before arriving back in Town.
That she had become engaged so quickly made little sense to him. In fact, she seemed to welcome him at first. He gave himself a shake. It didn’t matter now. What was done was done, and he had taken steps to move on.
He took another swallow of madeira.
Nevertheless, he was damn sure he would not have wanted to be present for what must have been an extremely unpleasant conversation between his parents. Although, he very much wished he had been listening at a keyhole. His normally complacent mother must have been in rare form for his father to write such a contrite letter to him.
Geoff took a breath, and his shoulders felt as if a great weight had been lifted off them. Not having to worry about his father’s approval would make his search for a wife a great deal easier.
He glanced at the second sheet of paper written in his mother’s neat hand and read the short list.
Lady Mary Linley
Lady Emily Oakwood
Lady Jane Summers
Miss Judith Farnham
Miss Elizabeth Turley
During the course of the Season, he had been introduced to all of the ladies, except for Lady Jane, at one point or another, and had danced with most of them. Beyond that, he had no idea which of them would fit all his qualifications.
He picked up his pen, dipped it in the inkwell, and crossed Miss Farnham’s name off the list. She was a wretched dancer, and, therefore, did not meet one of his more important requirements. His feet ached just thinking about the time he’d stood up with her. She was perfectly amiable, but the poor lady had no sense of the music. And he could not have a wife who would cause a foreign dignitary pain or embarrassment.
Lady Mary was known for her reserve, but she was graceful and seemed intelligent. A few gentlemen had likened her to an icicle. Geoff would have to become better acquainted with her to know if that was true. He did not want a wife who was cold. No man would.
Lady Emily appeared to be an agreeable young woman. Yet she was only seventeen and occasionally suffered from bouts of giggles. Something she would outgrow, eventually. One hoped. Yet not soon enough for his needs.
He knew nothing about Lady Jane Summers, but she should be at the ball this evening.
And then there was Miss Turley. It was interesting that her name had come up twice today. Geoff had danced with her only once. As best as he could recall she was a graceful dancer and had kept up the conversation with him. He should remember more about her than that. Geoff took another drink of wine. Flaxen curls. Yes, he had thought her quite pretty in a quiet sort of way. And her eyes were blue.
He glanced at the clock. In only two hours, he would know her much better. The other ladies would have to wait until this evening.
Geoff smiled to himself. It was a good thing he’d run into her brother this morning. Tea would give him an opportunity to discover if she would be a good choice of wife. And, if so, he could secure a dance for this evening’s ball—he assumed she would attend.
He leaned back in his chair and drained the glass. The start of today had been nothing short of a disaster, but it was gradually improving. He was sure he would soon find a lady he would like to wed.
* * *
Elizabeth and her aunt returned from shopping and morning visits with less than an hour until tea. After finding Elizabeth pacing, her aunt said it was better for her to be busy than have too much time to think about Lord Harrington joining them. At the time, she had protested, but in the end, her aunt was right. Instead of being nervous, she was simply rushing to be on time.
She strode into her bedroom as Vickers, her maid, was taking out Elizabeth’s brush and comb, placing them on her toilet-table.
“The verditer blue glazed cotton, I think, Vickers.” The color reminded her of the turquoise ring her mother loved
. “We are having a guest to tea.”
“That’s the one I thought you’d pick.” She shook out the gown before holding it over Elizabeth’s head. “Mr. Broadwell mentioned a gentleman was coming. Not that he would gossip about you.”
“Or not to the junior staff.” She was well aware that the senior staff knew of her father’s hopes she marry this Season.
“That’s what I meant.” Vickers fastened the small buttons on the back of Elizabeth’s gown. “Not everyone needs to know everything.”
Elizabeth sat at her dressing table as her maid took the pins out of her hair and rearranged it into a knot high on her head. She had recently had her hair cut to take advantage of the curls around her face that previously defied all attempts to be tamed. They now framed her face nicely.
After threading a ribbon through the curls, Vickers clasped a single strand of pearls around Elizabeth’s neck. She added the matching earrings.
“The Norwich shawl, miss?”
The shawl had been a present from her aunt, and accented a number of her gowns, including this one. “Yes.”
A few minutes later, the shawl had been draped over her shoulders and she had her reticule in her hand. “Well? Will I do?”
“You’re as pretty as a picture.” Her maid’s lips tilted up slightly. “Best be going. You don’t want to keep them waiting too long.”
Now that she was dressed and about to go down, Elizabeth’s stomach started to behave as if there were butterflies flapping around inside it. Her hands became damp and she had to run them down her skirts. To make it even worse, Lord Harrington had arrived more than five minutes ago.
Normally, she would have already been in the drawing room, but Aunt had decided Elizabeth should enter the parlor after Lord Harrington arrived instead of being there first.
“Will it not be rude of me to be tardy?” she had asked, not understanding why she should be late when the gentleman had been invited to her house.
“Better a little late,” her aunt said tartly. “It will give him something to look forward to. Now remember what I told you. Men like the hunt.”
Not only Aunt, but Charlotte, as well, had warned Elizabeth not to allow Lord Harrington to be too sure of her. It was no good at all to allow a gentleman to think a lady was not worth chasing after. “Have no fear on that account. I will not allow him to treat me as he did Lady Charlotte.”
Aunt had given her a nod of approval.
Now, as she was about to step into the drawing room, Broadwell, her father’s butler, stopped her. “Miss, her ladyship said tea will be served on the terrace.”
“Thank you.” That was actually a wonderful idea, though it made her no less nervous. She was not used to being the center of attention. That distinction had always gone to her friends. Yet, with her brother, aunt, and Lord Harrington already present, she could not help but to stand out.
The day was not too warm and the garden was in full bloom. She made her way to the back of the house as male voices drifted from the direction of the morning room and garden.
Two sofas, two chairs, and three tables had been set on the terrace, replicating the seating arrangement in the drawing room. Her brother lounged in a chair to the right of one sofa, her aunt was in her usual place to the left, and Lord Harrington sat on the small sofa opposite where Elizabeth usually sat.
At that moment, her brother saw her and stood. Lord Harrington followed closely behind.
Stepping forward to her, Gavin took Elizabeth’s hand. “My dear, in the event Lord Harrington has not been presented to you, please allow me to do the honors.”
She squeezed her brother’s fingers gratefully. “Thank you, but I met his lordship at a ball a few days ago.” Raising her gaze to Lord Harrington, she smiled. “Welcome. I am glad you were able to join us. Please have a seat. Tea will arrive shortly.”
Lord Harrington lowered his tall frame onto the sofa across from her. He really was a fine, handsome man. Although he was not as broad as some gentlemen, he filled out the shoulders of his coat well. His cravat was elegantly tied and a sapphire nestled in its folds. She was pleased to see that he had eschewed the new trousers for pantaloons and highly shined Hessian boots. This was not a man who would need the extra padding in his calves that some did. Her brother did say he liked sports and it showed.
Elizabeth supposed she should not think about such things, but she couldn’t help herself. Now she would see if handsome did as handsome was. She sent a little prayer to the deity that Lord Harrington did not disappoint her. Particularly as she was already disposed to like him.
Chapter Four
Broadwell entered carrying the tea tray, followed by a footman with a second tray holding a plate with small sandwiches.
Once the trays had been placed on the low table between the two sofas, Elizabeth poured a cup for her aunt before addressing Lord Harrington. “How do you like your tea, my lord?”
“A splash of milk and two sugars, please.” He watched her carefully as she poured, which Elizabeth found to be a little odd. It was something all ladies learned to do.
She placed two biscuits on a plate. “Cook’s ginger biscuits are excellent. Would you like a sandwich as well?”
“Please.” He smiled, but it was a tight polite one that made his well-shaped lips appear rigid.
Good Lord. Was he always this stilted or could it be that he was a bit nervous? Well, whatever it was, she would have to try to put him at ease. She handed her brother his tea. Not waiting for her, he selected several sandwiches and biscuits. To ensure Lord Harrington had an equal chance at sustenance, she quickly placed more sandwiches, biscuits, and a lemon curd tart on his plate. There, at least he wouldn’t starve.
“I hear that you will be traveling to the Continent soon.” Hopefully, that would draw the man out.
He set his cup down. “Excellent tea, Miss Turley.”
Elizabeth could not help but preen a little. “Thank you. It is my own blend.”
“To answer your question”—his eyes lit up and he leaned forward slightly—“yes, I shall travel shortly to the Continent where I will join Sir Charles Stuart’s delegation.” Harrington frowned slightly. “There are just a few matters to which I must attend before departing.”
Matters such as acquiring a wife, she assumed. “How excited you must be. I have longed to travel.”
“Have you, indeed?” His lovely blue eyes lit up, and she nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I know some ladies do not wish to be so far from home.”
Ah, he must mean Charlotte. Now that Elizabeth thought about it, she was surprised Lord Harrington had expected her friend to be happy so far away from family. “I am sure there are some ladies and gentlemen, as well, who do not wish to leave England. I, however, am not one of them.” She gave him a cheering smile. “I grew up hearing about my father’s and grandfather’s grand tours. And my grandmother had cousins in France she visited on occasion. I have always wanted to see the places they talked about.”
“I too heard the same stories.” He leaned forward eagerly, as if he had found a kindred soul. Elizabeth hoped it was so. “Although I shall most likely never take a grand tour, I expect I will be able to visit many of the countries and cities they did.”
They continued to talk about the grand cities of Europe, but her aunt and brother, surprisingly, only contributed to the conversation when addressed.
Before she knew it, all the tea had been drunk, and the food eaten. Lord Harrington would soon leave, and he had yet to mention Lady Holland’s ball this evening.
“You are lucky indeed to have been offered the position. I envy you the opportunity.” Elizabeth rose.
Harrington sprang to his feet. “I have my father to thank for that.” He held her gaze for a moment, then said, “I am escorting my grandmother to Lady Holland’s ball this evening. Would you do me the honor of standing up with me?”
“I would be delighted.” Elizabeth pursed her lips as if in thought. “The supper dance is still op
en.”
Ever since Dotty, Louisa, and Charlotte had found husbands, Elizabeth had been much in demand. Not that any of the gentlemen other than Lord Harrington had piqued her interest. Since Charlotte had indicated she was not interested in the man, Elizabeth had begun saving a dance for Harrington, just in the event he asked. Her idea had finally borne fruit.
“Excellent.” He inclined his head. “I look forward to this evening.”
“As shall I, my lord.” She curtseyed and he bowed over her hand but did not try to take it in his or even kiss the air above it as almost every gentleman did, leaving her unsure what to make of him. Was he interested in her or not?
Once Gavin had accompanied Lord Harrington into the house, her aunt looked at Elizabeth. “Well, what did you think?”
“After his initial stiffness, he was quite charming.” Even if he didn’t kiss her fingers.
“He’s a handsome man,” her aunt mused.
She had studied him as he’d strolled off with Gavin. She had been right. It was clear his tall frame and broad shoulders had no need of padding anywhere. “Yes. His eyes in particular are a beautiful color blue. They almost match the sapphire he wore.” His hair was blond but slightly darker than hers. “I like the way his hair curls.”
“But he is not pretty,” Aunt said. “Not like Byron.”
“No. He is very manly looking. His jaw is firm.” Not able to get the vision of his shoulders and shapely legs out of her mind, Elizabeth fought the urge to sigh. She might be a little too interested in his physical attributes.
“And he was attentive to you,” her aunt prodded.
“Yes, he was very attentive.” Especially when he talked about going abroad. In fact, that was almost the only thing he discussed. He had not asked anything about her likes and dislikes.