by Ella Quinn
“That does not surprise me.” She glanced out one of the parlor windows. “When will they arrive?”
“I’m not precisely sure. He failed to tell me either when they were leaving or when they’d arrive.” Their visit would likely put off Geoff’s departure by a few days, days he did not have to waste—even with Elizabeth agreeing to a quick wedding—if he wished to join Sir Charles as soon as possible.
“Is your mother as daunting as your grandmother?” When Geoff looked at Elizabeth, she was staring at him.
“I have never thought so. Although I suppose she could be. I have always thought of her more as a mother hen.”
“A mother hen?” She chuckled. “You have raised my curiosity. I look forward to meeting her.”
A footman stood at the head of the staircase. “Have my carriage brought around.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Once the servant had gone, he placed his palm on Elizabeth’s waist. “Would you like to look at fabrics tomorrow? We can have luncheon together here and spend the afternoon deciding what you would like.”
A crease formed between her blond brows. “Can it be arranged that quickly?”
“I shall ensure it is.” He felt a tremor pass through her as he placed his lips next to her ear, and she sighed. “We have a ball this evening, do we not?”
“Lady Haverstock’s.” The pulse at the base of Elizabeth’s throat beat faster as he stroked the back of her neck.
“I want all of your waltzes that have not already been claimed.” He’d be damned if he’d agree to another man holding her in his arms.
She turned her head slightly, catching his eyes with hers and giving him a coy look. “Do you, indeed, my lord?”
Minx. Make that no other man would touch her. “As well as any other sets that have not been claimed.”
Her eyes widened. “All of them? Whatever for?”
Touching his lips to hers, he said, “So that everyone will know you are mine.”
Geoff backed her into the corridor, pulling her into his arms as he did. Elizabeth slid her hands up his jacket and around his neck. “Do you believe such drastic measures are necessary? Lord Littleton left Town, and no one else is interested in me.”
Geoff didn’t think Elizabeth would jilt him, but he wasn’t taking any chances. “I wish to spend time with you.” Her eyes searched his, but in this he was being completely honest. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips. “Open for me and let me taste you.”
Pressing against him, she sought his mouth with hers. Their tongues touched, and danced, and he wanted nothing more than to carry her back to his bed. He cupped her breast, and she sighed. “We could go back into the bedroom.”
Before she could answer, Gibson’s voice drifted up the stairs. “Find his lordship and tell him his carriage is waiting.”
Geoff was about to curse himself for ordering his phaeton, but it was for the best. After her reaction to his bed, he needed to bring Elizabeth along slowly. Let her get used to the idea, and perhaps change the bedcover and hangings.
“We should go.” He tucked her arm in his. “One does not like to upset the upper servants.”
“Especially when they are not yours.”
“Precisely.” He had learned at an early age not to distress his parent’s or his mother’s servants.
By the time they got to the Park, it was clear the news of their betrothal had spread.
Tom Cotton, riding on a bay mare, came up to them. He glanced at Geoff, then at Elizabeth. “I see the news is true. Congratulations on your betrothal.”
“Thank you.” He took Elizabeth’s hand. “My dear, may I present a good friend of mine, Major Cotton. He is on his way to Brussels. Cotton, my betrothed, Miss Turley.”
“Major”—she smiled—“I am delighted to meet any of Harrington’s friends. I hope we will see you when we arrive in Brussels.”
“I shall look forward to it, Miss Turley.” Cotton bowed. “I leave tomorrow and will be on the watch for you.” He looked at Geoff. “Quarters are filling up. Have you already made arrangements? If not, I’ll see what I can find.”
“We have, thank you.” He assured his friend.
“I’ll look forward to seeing you there.” Cotton inclined his head. “Miss Turley, Harrington. I’ll let you continue your drive.”
He started the horses again as his friend rode off to a group of military gentlemen a short way from them.
“He seemed nice,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, he is. If nothing else, we’ll know one person there.”
“Perhaps we shall invite him to dinner.” Her eyes began to twinkle, and for an instant he was jealous of his friend. Then he realized she was looking forward to having their own home.
“We will do that.” What would living with her be like?
They continued and took a turn around the Park, accepting congratulatory remarks from their acquaintances that had not been at Lady Jersey’s ball last night. When he pulled up to Elizabeth’s house, he remembered that she had not accepted his invitation to have luncheon with him. “Shall I come for you just before one o’clock tomorrow?”
Her smile was as bright as the sun, and he knew she remembered the time he’d forgot to press her for a commitment. “Yes, please.”
When he returned home he was informed that his grandmother was in her rooms and wished to see him.
That would give him an opportunity to ask about his bedchamber. “Thank you, Gibson. I shall go directly.”
Moments later, Apollonia admitted Geoff to Grandmamma’s apartments. “I had almost expected you to still be here when we returned.” She motioned to the table. “Please join us for tea.”
He bussed her cheek. “Elizabeth and I made plans to drive in the Park.”
“Yes, my dear, I am well aware of that, but I had thought—” She pulled a face. That was odd. “Well, I’ve probably said too much.”
Too much about what? What was she up to? “By the way, I assume Mama decorated the one bedchamber in green. It is her favorite color, but who used red and gold in my bedchamber?”
His grandmother gave him such an innocent look, he knew something was going on. “Did you not like it, my dear?”
“It is rather . . . rather . . .” How did one explain to one’s grandmother that the bedchamber reminded him of a brothel?
“Enticing?” A wicked look appeared in her eyes. “Did you know that in some ancient cultures, decorating the sleeping chambers to encourage marital relations, including erotic wall murals, was considered to be entirely appropriate, and even desired?”
What the devil? Geoff felt his face getting hot. He hadn’t blushed in years. “I know nothing of the sort.” He really did not want to have this conversation with his grandmother! “Who would have told you such a thing in the first place?”
She waved her fingers in an airy fashion, and said, “Your grandfather had a wide range of friends.” As if that explained it. “Nevertheless, I know you and Miss Turley have not been acquainted with each other long.” Grandmamma smiled benignly. “And I thought it would help.”
“Well, it didn’t. She was shocked by it.” That ought to teach her not to interfere.
“I have to admit I had not thought of that.” Grandmamma knitted her brows for a moment before smiling again. “I am sure you will be able to overcome any fears she may have.”
“Sounds like Henry.” Squawk, squawk. “Sounds like Henry.”
“That is quite enough from you, Nelson.” She turned her attention back to Geoff. “Now, as I was about to say, I regret that poor Miss Turley was taken aback, but I am greatly surprised you were not able to calm her.”
Henry? His grandfather Henry? “What did that dratted bird mean by I sound like Henry?”
“Sounds like Henry.”
“Apollonia, please cover the admiral’s cage. I cannot have him interrupting when he’s in one of his moods.”
“I shall have to fetch it from the morning room,” his cousin said,
quitting the room.
“Kiss me here, lovey. Kiss me here. That feels good.”
What the devil? He pulled his attention from the bird and focused on its owner. “Grandmother, please answer my question.”
“Yes, well.” Her lips formed a moue. “You have always reminded me of your dear grandfather.”
There was more to it than that. “I am quite sure Elizabeth and I can figure out our relations.”
“I merely wished to help you along.” His grandmother shrugged. “It worked for your grandfather.”
Worked for—“I thought you had an arranged match.”
“And so we did.” She set the cup down. “Or so he thought,” she added in an undervoice.
He almost asked what Grandmamma had meant by that last bit, but decided he didn’t want to know.
“Would you please sit down?” She glared up at him. “I do not like the way you stand over one, glowering.”
“You had not asked me to sit before,” he protested as he lowered himself onto the chair next to her.
“That is your fault for distracting me.” Geoff waited patiently while she poured another cup of tea. “Now then, as I said. We did not know each other at all well when we married. Your grandfather was extremely susceptible to certain colors and our marriage changed for the better as a result.”
Based on the bedcover, it wasn’t hard to guess which colors brought the greatest results. They had affected him as well. “I see.”
“I doubt it,” Grandmama said, holding the cup in front of her mouth. “But you shall. Now leave me to my tea. I am sure you have something you ought to be doing.”
Such as enticing Elizabeth back into his bedchamber. He rose, and bowed. “Will I see you at dinner?”
“No, I am dining with friends. If you plan to attend Lady Haverstock’s ball, I shall see you there.”
“Elizabeth likes pink. She made a list of fabrics that I gave to Gibson when we left,” he said, before leaving the room. “And she is having luncheon here tomorrow.”
“All shall be ready for her.” His grandmother made a shooing motion with her hands.
“Must leave, must leave.” The bird flapped its wings as Apollonia re-entered the parlor and placed the cover over its cage.
He had never expected to have such an embarrassing conversation with his grandmother of all people. He should never have mentioned the bedcover and hangings. But who would have guessed that she had picked the colors?
Geoff needed to walk. He took his hat from Gibson and left the house. What the deuce did Grandmother mean by her marriage changing? Unless she simply meant that—no, he was not going to think about that.
Nothing had gone the way he’d expected it to today. Not to mention that dratted bird. He hoped Elizabeth never acquired one.
Chapter Eighteen
Elizabeth had intended to go straight to her room when she returned home, but the sounds of movement in the next chamber stirred her curiosity. She peeked in to see three new black and tan leather-covered traveling trunks. “They look well made.”
“I thought you’d like them,” Vickers said, opening one of the trunks. “This one has a place for shoes so that they don’t have to be wrapped separately.”
“How clever.” She opened the other trunk and found it lined in silk. “And elegant. I am surprised you found them already made.” She thought her maid would come back with regular wooden chests.
“They were ordered by a lady who was going to Europe and decided at the last minute she’d stay in England instead. I can tell you, the merchant was happy for me to take them off his hands. I’ll have Kenton paint your initials on the bottoms.”
Something else that would change. Her name. Goodness, it seemed like her life was being turned upside down. Her name, her rank, and her status would all change, not to mention having a husband, a home of her own, and traveling to Brussels.
Thinking of all the new clothes her aunt ordered for her, Elizabeth asked, “Will five be enough?”
“It should be.” Vickers pulled out the packing list they had drawn up, handing it to Elizabeth. “I think they’ll do. If not, I’ll go back to the shop.”
“I see you have crossed off several items.”
“That’s what I’ve packed,” her maid said.
“Very well. I shall rewrite it and give it back to you.”
She took the list to her desk and ended up adding a few items. By the time she was done, it was time to dress for dinner and the subsequent ball.
Yet despite the distraction of the trunks, the news that her father was returning to Town, and the reports of the Corsican’s movements, she could not get her mind off that bed—Geoffrey’s bed. Her breasts grew heavy, almost as if he was touching her.
Thanks to her friends, she was aware of how intimate she would be with him. Yet, that didn’t explain why her skin became so sensitive merely thinking about him and that bed. What would have happened if Gibson had not called for him?
After dinner, as she and her aunt drank tea, her thoughts wandered again to the bed, or rather, she and Geoffrey in the bed.
“Elizabeth, are you sure you wish to attend the ball?” her aunt asked. “You look flushed, and you would not want to take ill before your wedding.”
“No, I’m fine.” She applied her fan, hoping that would help. “It is a little warm in here.”
Her aunt raised one brow but said nothing more. A few minutes later Geoffrey was announced.
Elizabeth rose immediately and went to him. “Good evening.”
Taking her fingers in his hands he raised first one then the other, placing light kisses on them. “Are you all right?”
“It is just that the room is warm,” she said loud enough for her aunt to hear. When Aunt began to draw on her gloves, Elizabeth whispered, “I cannot stop thinking about your bed.”
He seemed surprised at first, but soon his eyes began to sparkle. “I think I know the reason. We can discuss it when we find some time to be alone. I believe Lady Bristow is ready to leave.”
However, when they arrived at the ball, so many people stopped to congratulate them on their betrothal, they could barely make it into the ballroom before the dancing began.
Slowly, as if each knew what the other wanted, Geoffrey and Elizabeth began making their way toward the French windows. They lost her aunt somewhere between the potted plants and the orchestra. And when the second dance began, he whisked her out through the French windows and onto the stone terrace.
“I thought we would never be able to escape.” She smiled up at him.
“I’m shocked there are so many people left in Town.” He wrapped his arm around her waist. “This way.”
Instead of going to the far side of the terrace, he led them down the steps and into the small garden. Tall posts with lanterns hanging from them marked the paths.
Geoffrey turned off the main path to another.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” He drew her closer to him, his arm tightening around her waist. The light grew dimmer, but the scent of night-blooming jasmine and night-blooming nicotiana filled the air. “There is a night garden, or at least that is what I think it’s called. Back here.”
A few moments later, they entered a small circular garden with a fountain in the middle and a bench to one side. Flowers of various sizes, all of them white, reached for the moon. “I’ve never seen anything like this. How did you know about it?”
“Lady Haverstock is a friend of my mother’s and described the garden when she visited earlier in the year. I hoped you would like it.”
Elizabeth gazed up at him. Although the garden seemed alight, his face was still in the shadows. “And I do. Vastly. Thank you for bringing me here.”
He placed his handkerchief on the bench. “It is the only place I could think of where we could be alone for a while.”
She lowered herself onto the seat, being careful to sit on the handkerchief and not the stone. Geoffrey took the place next to
her. They were so close one would not have been able to put a piece of paper between them.
He twined one of her curls around his index finger. “You were bothered about the cover and hangings on my bed. Shall I have them changed?”
Elizabeth leaned against him, reveling in the comfort of his large, strong body. “Not bothered, but . . . I do not know how to explain it. I could not stop thinking of it, and the more I thought of it the more my skin began to heat.” She hid her face in her hands. “I know I sound silly.”
“Not at all.” As he stroked her back, he pressed his fingers along her spine, and she wanted to melt into a puddle. “Could it be that you were imagining what will happen in that bed? Or has no one told you?”
“Lady Merton”—suddenly Elizabeth’s mouth went dry again—“told me some of what to expect.”
He shifted so that he was facing her, and placed both hands on her waist. His voice hardened. “Did she upset you?”
“No, no, nothing like that. She said that it was very enjoyable with the right man.” Elizabeth tried to search his eyes, but it was too dark.
“Never doubt that I am the right man, the only man for you.” Geoffrey claimed her lips, and she opened for him, tangling her tongue with his.
Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss, and she moaned. The sound came from somewhere deep inside her. Her bodice sagged; then his fingers eased her breasts from her stays. He cupped them, languidly caressing one while he took the other one into his mouth. Flames licked her skin. She held his head to her, wishing he could kiss her lips and her breasts at the same time.
Elizabeth felt as if she would combust if something did not ease the tension in that place between her legs. The throbbing grew worse, and no matter how much she wiggled, she couldn’t get comfortable.
“What is it?” Geoffrey’s voice was deep and seductive against her neck. “Don’t be afraid or embarrassed. You can tell me, ask me anything. I am here for you.”
Elizabeth’s face was burning, but if she could not tell the man she would marry, then whom could she tell? “Between my legs. That place . . .”