He was also far touchier than his usual temperament allowed. That had been Duncan’s contribution, which had not been received well. What had been said in the club, and by Mary herself the night of the musicale, had only festered with the time passed. He was half tempted to interrogate Mary in the carriage on the way to the theater.
Assuming she actually showed.
He had been waiting nearly a quarter of an hour and his patience was wearing thin. Winston had let him in, which should indicate that all was going to go according to plan, but Geoff was not entirely sure he could fully trust Winston to be loyal to him.
He exhaled sharply and looked up the stairs once more, tempted to run up and fetch Mary himself only to find that she was at last making her grand descent. As angry and irritated as he was with her, he couldn’t help but be awestruck at the spectacle she presented.
Her gown was a rich midnight blue that seemed made from the night sky itself, with the very stars in the fabric, all of which shimmered in their own time as she moved. It was a tight-fitting gown, but not boldly so. Just enough to emphasize her remarkable figure, and to hint to any admirers the quite desirable possibility she had the potential to present. She would have no shortage of attention tonight; he highly doubted the eyes of those in attendance would look anywhere else.
Faintly it occurred to him that he had seen her in this dress at the shop that day, though he could hardly believe it. Mrs. Farrow had obviously completed her work on it and tailored it to Mary’s taste and style, and the end result was breathtaking. He was not one for appreciating fashion regularly, but he could see a very great reason to petition to have Mrs. Farrow named a saint.
Gradually his eyes reached Mary’s face and found her complexion positively glowing. When had she become such a stirring beauty? It seemed that more of the stars had found themselves lost in her tresses, which were delicate and smooth and begging to be toyed with. And her eyes held the remaining stars in them as they danced with excitement.
“Do I pass your inspection?” she asked in musical tones, a small smile toying with the edges of her lips. “You have been at it long enough.”
He shook himself out of the fog he had so suddenly found himself ensconced in, and bowed slightly. “Indeed. I am no match for my companion tonight, and no one will remember that it was I who attended her.”
Mary laughed and reached for the wrap that one of the maids held out for her. “Come now, Mr. Harris, nobody remembers the men who escort any woman to these sorts of things. Has anyone ever noticed you before?”
He frowned at her back as she exited the house. Her statement was probably true, but he had not expected that from her. He had meant to pay her a teasing compliment, and perhaps receive one in return, as they had done for so many years. Yet she had doled out a veiled insult, not harshly, but coyly… Just as Marianne would have.
He followed her quickly, donning his hat and entering the carriage, sitting opposite her once more. He rapped on the carriage, and fixed his eyes upon her with no small degree of criticism as the carriage began moving.
Mary studied and readjusted her gloves aimlessly, never once looking at him. But he never got the sense that she was ignoring him. It was more as if he was not even there.
He waited as long a time as he could bear to, and when she still took no notice of him, he exhaled sharply. “Anything particularly exciting happen since I have seen you last?”
Mary looked up at him in surprise, as if she truly had forgotten he was there. Then she frowned just a touch as she thought back. “Exciting? No, not particularly. Not anything you would consider exciting, at any rate.”
He felt his brows snap together as if by a whip. “Something you found exciting, then?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, nothing so extraordinary. I had several callers this week, so many I had to dismiss them in order to eat a thing. I attended a gathering at the Duke of St. Martin’s home for the unveiling of his gallery. He is quite a collector of art, you know, and has been cultivating a gallery for years. It was spectacular, you should attempt to gain admittance if you can. If you cannot, I shall be glad to obtain one for you. I have a long-standing invitation myself,” she admitted with a flutter of her lashes that he found distracting and irritating.
He snorted. “I am perfectly well acquainted with St. Martin myself to garner my own invitations of him, thank you very much. We were at school together before he inherited.”
She gave him a rather arch look. “Funny, he never mentions you.”
Geoff glowered at her, which she pointedly ignored.
“I also received invitations to house parties hosted by Lord Oliver, Mr. Ashwood, Lady Frampton, I shall have to refuse hers, nobody of sense gets within ten feet of the Framptons if they can help it, and a card party hosted by Mr. Kent. I suspect he is still upset with me for trouncing him so soundly and wishes to have his revenge.”
Geoff didn’t doubt that. Kent prided himself on his skills.
“You know Society fairly well. Anyone you think I need to avoid?”
He was tempted, he was oh so tempted to lie. But he was an honest man to a fault. “Branson and Tremont are a seducers, Elliot a potential murderer, and Henley is too mysterious for anybody to trust. Other than that, I think you’re safe.” He managed to flick her a wan smile. “But you are quite right to refuse the Framptons, as delicately as you can. My stomach has not been the same since I attended one of their parties five years ago.”
Mary shuddered in mock-revulsion, but smiled. “Very well. I’ll take your advice into consideration, and probably heed it where those gentlemen are concerned. I have also received invitations from Lord Viskin, and Lady Wessex. Oh, and Mr. Burlington will be escorting me to the opera next Friday.”
Geoff jerked in his seat with a cough. “The opera? He’s taking you to the opera?”
“Didn’t I just say that?” she said with impatience. “He has reserved a box for us and promised to show me off in grand style there. I have commissioned a new gown for the occasion.”
Grand style she would receive, if Burlington were to be involved. They would be quite a spectacle for the eyes, and he was not entirely certain which of the two would attract more attention with their ensemble. Mary was the beauty, there was no doubt, but the extravagance that Burlington regularly employed for his own attire made the Prince of Wales resemble a cheap peddler in the gutters of London’s darkest corners. And his conversation tended to be limited to himself, his clothing, and flattering women. People of sense could not abide the man.
Yet Mary was brimming with excitement.
“You cannot be serious.”
One perfect brow rose with alacrity. “I’m entirely serious. Mr. Burlington is a fine man and one of my favorite admirers. He knows of my age and situation and isn’t put off by it. He doesn’t fawn as much as the others, and listens when I speak. He is complimentary and I enjoy his company. I would go to a great many more things if I knew he would be in attendance.”
A wash of bile threatened to rise within him and it took all of his power to swallow it down. He wanted to ask if he had offered marriage yet, if he had made his intentions obvious, or if it was still a matter of flirtation. But he didn’t want to know that any more than he wanted to know the future date of his death. “You hate the opera,” he tried weakly, his head faintly swimming.
Again came her haughty look. “As it so happens, Geoffrey, I adore the opera.” She turned to face the window, effectively shutting off any further conversation.
Geoff stared at her in his stunned silence, hardly breathing. She… she what? How could she possibly adore the opera when their entire lives she had groaned every time he took her? And the only reason he took her was because he knew she’d hate it, so he would be sure of a good laugh. She loved it? Why had she never told him that?
The dark feeling in his chest rose once more, becoming an old friend instead of an unwanted burden. He felt his face take on a careful, composed expression that showed a
bsolutely no emotion whatsoever. If she could parade about falsely, so could he.
“There is a ball at the Duke of Ashcombe’s townhouse that Friday to which we have been invited,” he told her, keeping his voice formal. “Will you be attending?”
“Of course,” she replied in a clipped voice. “I wouldn’t slight the Duke and Duchess, nor Derek and Kate. Mr. Burlington will escort me there after the show, as he was invited as well.”
“As you wish.” It was now his turn to look out of the window, as still and unmoving as he could possibly be. He wished he were not going to the theater tonight. He wished he were any place else.
“I have arranged the date for Miss Arden’s party,” Mary said softly. “She was agreeable and generous, and very pleased with the opportunity. I think she does not receive such attentions at home.”
“I would agree with that,” he replied, keeping his tone as even and tempered as she had. He knew of the Ardens, but didn’t know them well. All he knew was that the parents found it to be a great inconvenience that they only had daughters and took no pains with any of them. It was amazing that the elder two, who were the only ones out, actually seemed creatures of sense and grace.
“It will be two weeks from Tuesday. If you are still of a mind to attend…”
“I am.”
“Excellent.” She paused a long moment, then said, “I’ll make sure that Winston unlocks the side door of the music room in case Fanny Harville feels the need to attempt to sing, so you have an efficient means of escape.”
He couldn’t help but to chuckle and looked over at her. “That would be most gracious of you. Why are you inviting Fanny Harville?”
She grinned and rolled her eyes. “Cassie is forcing me. Fanny is one of the only girls in Society who still speaks to her as if nothing had happened.”
“I didn’t know they were friends.”
“They weren’t. Friendly, yes, but never friends. Until now, apparently.”
Geoff sighed and shook his head. “Very well, for Cassie’s sake, I shall endure Fanny Harville.”
“You don’t have to. Hence the side door.” She tilted her head in amusement, a small smile forming.
He inclined his head in gratitude. “Well planned, Goose.”
Her smile faded and she looked down at her gloves. “You shouldn’t call me that anymore.”
He reared back. “What, Goose?”
She nodded.
“Why not? It’s been my name for you for years.”
“I know,” she said, sounding apologetic. Or at least, pretending to be. “But it’s too intimate and familiar. It’s not proper for you to call me anything but Miss Hamilton anymore, or my given name if we are alone.”
A cold chill ran up his spine and settled somewhere in his throat. He tried to swallow it down, but only manage to choke himself more in the process. When he could, he managed a weak, “If that is what you prefer.”
“I would.” Again she looked out of the carriage window as they approached the theater. “Now,” she said, straightening up and giving him a brilliant smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “let’s enjoy ourselves tonight. It is a comedy, after all.”
His entire life was a comedy these days. At his expense, of course. Now he had to address her as formally as he would any other woman in England? He had called her Goose since they were at least seven years old, and now, after mere weeks of playing the debutante, that, too, was gone.
They pulled up to the theater and Geoff alighted before they stopped completely, not even waiting for the footman. There were other carriages arriving and other guests that had yet to enter the theater, and so there was an audience for Mary’s grand arrival. It took all of his considerable self-control to keep a glower from his face. He held out his hand for Mary, and she took it with delicate, graceful fingers, smiling as if all the people assembled had come for her.
And given their reactions, it rather seemed they had.
Whispers and smiles and little waves began the moment she began walking, and every eye was upon her, just as he suspected it would be. Every gentleman was transfixed, every woman envious, and it became quite obvious which men were married and which were not.
Geoff only prayed they could actually enter the theater before they would swarm in on her.
As it happened, that was the case. They entered the theater, her wrap and his hat were taken by servants, and as if on cue, admirers thronged. Unexpectedly, Geoff was bustled and bumped out of the way and before he could believe it, there were men at least four deep between Mary and himself.
He opted to sneak a little ways off and watch the spectacle. Just to see for himself if the stories were true. He hadn’t heard anything about her lessons with Marianne, but he wasn’t sure that was a good thing. Had she really changed all that much?
It didn’t take long before he had his answer.
Mary was the perfect debutante. She was coy and flirtatious, encouraging yet giving no promises. She said volumes with her eyes, and not all of it was favorable to the beholder. She was hard on some, sweet with others, and somehow left all still wanting more. It was captivating to watch. Not that he was enjoying himself, for he could barely think of a time he had enjoyed less than this. And that was before the whispers began to reach him.
“Is that Harris over there watching Miss Hamilton?”
“Yes, the poor man. She will not give him the time of day.”
“Poor man, indeed. There was a time when the two of them were thick as thieves. Can you imagine? Being put off now after all that history.”
“Why should she keep him on? He obviously did not suit or she would have. She has better options now.”
“Would you choose Harris when you could have Burlington?”
“She won’t even let him near her, do you see?”
“He escorted her here, does that not mean something?”
“Nothing. A matter of convenience only.”
A man snorted next to him. “Convenience, eh? Doesn’t anybody remember where you live? If anything, your escorting her is a hardship on your horses and carriages, given how completely out of the way it is. And as for better options, well…”
He turned slightly to see Colin hiding a grin. “Not funny, Colin,” he growled.
Colin quirked a brow. “Oh, did I say it was funny?”
“You’re smiling.”
“And you look like you are contemplating a murder,” he replied without concern, still smiling. “My reputation has me being jovial at all times and not take anything seriously. So I smile. But tell me who your victim is, dear boy, and I shall offer you my sword.”
Geoffrey sighed and looked back towards Mary and her admirers. “I am not going to murder anyone.”
Colin snorted from his side. “Not today, at least.”
“No, not today.”
Colin waited only a beat before he said, “Have you spoken to Mary about those pesky rumors?”
“I have only heard them for myself just now,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “I haven’t had time to inform Miss Hamilton of anything.”
“Miss Hamilton?” Colin said with great interest. “Since when are you so formal with her?”
“Since about half an hour ago in the carriage. It seems I am too familiar with her.” His glower deepened as he turned back to watch.
“Are you indeed?” Colin murmured in a very soft, very unamused tone. “Fascinating news…”
Sounds from the orchestra met their ears and all turned at it. At once, realization hit the gathering that the show was destined to start shortly. At least four gentlemen offered their arm to Mary, but she politely declined them all.
Geoff could barely make out her voice above the noise. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Parker, you are too kind, but I already have an escort for the evening. Some other time, perhaps.”
He grunted in satisfaction. So she did remember that he was here and that he had brought her. How nice to be considered after all.
She made h
er way over to him with a grand smile, the exact one she had been giving all night. “Well, Mr. Harris, shall we?”
He inclined his head politely. “At your command, Miss Hamilton.”
She missed his irony and simply nodded, as if it was to be expected.
He glanced in Colin’s direction to find his friend smirking, but his eyes showed far more understanding than Geoff had ever seen from him.
Geoff looked down at Mary, who was smiling and nodding to others as if she were a queen being adored by her subjects. He couldn’t talk with her when she was like this, all false and condescending, with her waves and her smiles being restrained to that ridiculous polite one she always had fixed on her face these days. He wanted to speak to his friend Mary Hamilton, not Miss Hamilton the Adored.
But how to get her? She never let her guard down anymore, not even for him.
He caught sight of Fanny Harville and her mother and seized the moment. “Ah, Fanny Harville is here,” he murmured, forcing himself to smile. “Do you think she will rush the stage to perform?”
Mary clamped her lips together so tightly they were white and her shoulders shook.
Geoff tried not to feel the delighted surge of warmth that raced from his chest to his fingers.
“I daresay her mother will bodily restrain her,” Mary replied in careful, soft tones. “Mrs. Harville has always had a terrible fear of embarrassment.”
Geoff snorted. “Bodily restraint, you say? Poor Fanny.”
Now a laugh did escape from Mary and she clamped her hand over her mouth and looked up at him. Her eyes danced and for just a moment, his felt that his old Mary was returned to him.
“Don’t say such things,” she hissed, still smiling. “It isn’t seemly for me to laugh so hard in public.”
Secrets of a Spinster Page 13