Part 3 (1/2)

He lounged in the heat for several more minutes before thinking about was.h.i.+ng himself. Squares of soap lined the side of the huge tub and he sniffed each one before settling on one which smelled less flowery than the rest. He dipped his head into the water before he lathered the tablet between his hands and rubbed the resulting foam into his thick hair before skimming it over his body.

It was only as he lay back to rinse the lather that a voice caused him to sit up with a start. He cast his eyes towards the window and noticed for the first time that it was open more than a few inches. A crystal laugh caught his attention. He'd heard it often enough to know that only Charlotte's wild sense of humour could sound so much like a cascading waterfall when she found something amusing.

He half stood and leaned out of the bath. He peered through the open window, ducking back immediately as he realized that the windows of her chambers were at a right angle to his own, overlooking the beautiful garden. He caught hold of the drape and moved it across the gap, disguising his hiding place as he watched Charlotte move into view.

She stood framed at the window wearing nothing but her unmentionables with her new maid in the shadows behind her, undoing her hair. Their speech was a mumbled chatter of delicate tones with laughter thrown in as something clearly amused them both. A few seconds later he heard the more imperious tone of Alexander's mother. The women were probably discussing what they should wear at their evening meal. Geoffrey dropped the curtain and slid back into his bath, all thoughts of Charlotte banished as the thought of choosing from the array in the wardrobe crossed his mind.

Good G.o.d! He wouldn't have a clue! Genuine fear clawed at his stomach at the thought of selecting something from the vast selection in the enormous wardrobe and then facing laughter and derision as his choice was deemed wholly inappropriate. He swallowed hard, scrubbed the last of the soapsuds from his body, and rose from the now tepid water. He grabbed the sheet folded on the chair and quickly dried himself before wrapping it around his waist and striding around the screen to begin the terrifying process of deciding what to wear at dinner.

He froze as he saw that someone had already laid several items of clothing on the bed and was even now pulling extra items from the huge wardrobe. The man turned and beamed at a startled Geoffrey.

”Ah! All done? I'm Coalport, your valet for the duration of your stay. I was going to offer to scrub your back but you seemed to have it all in hand. Now, I think that we will find these items perfect for the informal supper her Ladys.h.i.+p has planned for tonight. Mrs. Bottomley is in a right old tear about it. Thought it was only going to be the three of you but the old d.u.c.h.ess had other plans and has already invited The Lord Latham and his wife, Lord and Lady Armitage, Lady Bowers and her escort Mr. Michaels. Shocking scandal the two of them caused last season but after the goings on discovered in Argyle Street everything seems to have been forgiven. Lord Hubert Carruthers and Sir Anthony Torrington will fill the last two chairs. It's going to be a merry evening.”

Geoffrey's eyes widened as the t.i.tles and the gossip fell from the man's lips. He hadn't a clue what Coalport was going on about and wasn't about to ask. He nodded towards the clothes already laid out on the bed.

”I think you had best put this lot away and order me a supper up here. I'll not be going downstairs tonight.” He saw that Coalport had folded a heavy robe over the back of a chair. Geoffrey picked it up and slipped it over his shoulders. He rid himself of the damp drying cloth and moved towards the plate of sandwiches that still sat on the tray. He took one and ate it quickly as he tried to still his rolling stomach.

Coalport shook out a pair of stockings.

”Nonsense! Of course you are going down to dinner. The d.u.c.h.ess warned me that you might attempt to get out of it but she's adamant that you are here to escort and escorting is exactly what you will be doing. Lady Charlotte is expecting you to accompany her into dinner in less than an hour, so we had best be getting you up to scratch with these garments. I've stowed your own travelling case and the clothes that you threw about the floor here in the attic. I don't think that we'll be needing any garments of that nature here.” The disdainful sniff that followed his words told Geoffrey just what the older man thought of his simple, country attire that he now realized had disappeared from the room.

He glowered down at the valet, but it seemed that Coalport was not about to be intimidated by anything so simple as an angry glare. Forty years of service for the old Duke and others of the aristocracy had clearly given him enough experience to know that a gentleman's gentleman knew best. Coalport simply lifted out a pair of polished shoes in which Geoffrey swore he could see his own reflection and placed them on the floor by the bed.

Geoffrey groaned inwardly. It was clear that he had been completely outmanoeuvred. There was simply no fighting it. He ate several more sandwiches, which were actually quite delicious, and gulped back a gla.s.s of water before he spoke again.

”But we've only just arrived. How can her Grace possibly have arranged all this within the last hour?” he questioned as he grabbed up a comb from the dresser and ran it through his still damp hair.

Coalport stopped on his way towards the bed with a waistcoat so richly embroidered it appeared to be covered with jewels.

”I believe that the d.u.c.h.ess had arranged for cards to be sent last week. I noticed Bottomley carrying a satchel full of them only last Friday. There were a stack of responses and invitations already waiting for her when you arrived. The d.u.c.h.ess has been selecting which to accept for the last hour. I daresay that you will be in for a busy few weeks.” He held up the waistcoat for Geoffrey's inspection.

Geoffrey groaned miserably as his fingertips touched the fabulous cloth. His rough skin snagged at the fabric and he rolled his eyes as Coalport s.n.a.t.c.hed the garment away, hung it back in the wardrobe and rushed over to the dressing table where a selection of ointments and salves sat in small gla.s.s jars. Geoffrey watched suspiciously while Coalport selected two of the containers. The man opened the jars, scooped out a little of each with his fingers and came back to Geoffrey. Without giving him chance to refuse, Coalport grabbed up Geoffrey's hands and began rubbing the ointment into his rough skin and split cuticles.

Though more than a little surprised at the gesture, Geoffrey immediately felt his work hardened skin softening and he let the man continue as his equanimity lowered even further.

”G.o.d help me then. I fear that Alexander and Giles have mistakenly put their faith in me. I am in no position to live up to my task. I will embarra.s.s the ladies and become a laughing stock. It's too much. They should have realized that I'm not up to it. I'm not genteelly born and I have no experience of London life. Charlotte will be ridiculed due to my cra.s.s manners, speech and even the roughness of my skin.” He was so far out of his depth that he felt as though he was drowning.

Coalport smiled encouragingly as he suddenly began pressing a shaped orange-stick against the base of his nails. After doing the same on each finger, he changed tool and began swiping a small metal rasp across the tops of Geoffrey's nails.

”Not at all. Your speech is fine if a little accented, but no one will call you out for that and your mannerisms so far, have been impeccable. Your hands are only rough from exposure to the elements and hard riding, I would a.s.sume, but we can soon make improvements.” He admired his own handiwork as he continued to file Geoffrey's nails. ”Just be yourself and all will be well. The d.u.c.h.ess tends to take over anyway so I expect that nodding and agreeing with her might be all you have to do tonight. Lord Carruthers and Anthony Torrington are new to town themselves, so you will be in good company. The Lathams come from old money and can be a little disapproving, but they are old friends of the d.u.c.h.ess. I imagine that Her Grace is eyeing their son for Lady Charlotte.”

Geoffrey s.n.a.t.c.hed in a deep breath and narrowed his eyes as he hissed.

”Over my dead body! If that b.a.s.t.a.r.d steps within a hundred yards of her I'll run him through.”

Coalport swapped the file for a buffer as he raised an interested eyebrow.

”Ah, so the rumours are true. I had heard that he had become a rake. There was an unfortunate incident at the Bellingham's dinner party last year and talk of a forced match, but the Lathams apparently dismissed the affair as a devious attempt by the Bellingham's unt.i.tled daughter to entrap their son. According to Jim Forbes, the young Latham's valet, money exchanged hands, not that that helped with the girl's reputation. She's a great beauty and was the talk of the season, but after the incident I believe the young woman was sent to live with her aunt in the country. The Bellinghams attended only the smallest events afterwards, but even though they are now considerably more affluent, they have barely recovered from the scandal. Distressing affair for all concerned, I would imagine.” He took a last inspection of Geoffrey's hands before he sat back from his task and smiled in satisfaction.

Geoffrey rubbed the tips of his fingers together before bringing them to his cheek to confirm that they were now smooth and slightly softened. His nails were even and buffed to a healthy sheen. It was a vast improvement accomplished in only a few moments and he smiled at Coalport in grat.i.tude before he took a set of undergarments from the valets now outstretched hand and began pulling them on.

”Nothing that man has done would surprise me. I can't believe that Oliv...I mean, the d.u.c.h.ess has invited his parents to dinner here. Alexander must have warned her off the family. She knows that Giles will never allow a match with the vile pig.” Geoffrey was past caring about abusing the Latham's son's name.

Coalport pa.s.sed him an unders.h.i.+rt.

”The Lathams are rich beyond most people's wildest dreams. That could take the edge off any misgivings Lord Caithwell might have. I hear that Lord Latham doesn't enjoy good health and a.s.sume that the son will inherit a small fortune before too long. I daresay that Lord Caithwell would like the best match for his ward.

Geoffrey snorted in derision.

”Latham would be the second worst choice for her next to that other debauchee, Lord Rookwood. Charl...I mean Lady Charlotte could do far better than either of them, and fortunately she is not in need of a fortune. She has one of her own.” He thought of the huge, pink diamond that he suspected she carried somewhere about her person. He knew that she wanted to find a buyer for it to enable her to claim a real stake in the Ormond and Caithwell stables. He frowned as he wondered how she might approach the transaction. With bravado and enthusiasm as usual, he imagined, but he would have to take a look at the places Alexander had advised before she parted with the stone priceless stone. He didn't want her sneaking off alone into the more insalubrious areas of London where he might not be able to protect her adequately or where she would find herself at the wrong end of a bad bargain.

Another thought crossed his mind. Perhaps Charlotte had mentioned the huge jewel to Olivia. The Lathams were probably one of the few families that might be able to afford such a prize. Bile rose in his throat as he imagined Charlotte in close negotiations with young Latham. He couldn't allow it to happen. He'd have to talk to her about it as soon as possible.

He closed his eyes at that thought. All the avoidance he had been practicing had been for nothing. He knew that she wouldn't let the diamond out of her sight and that meant that he would be accompanying her even more closely, probably alone if he guessed rightly that Charlotte would want to be discreet about selling the stone.

Coalport stood in front of him again, s.h.i.+rt in hand this time. Geoffrey dropped the robe from his shoulders and pulled the deliciously soft linen over his head. The material slipped over his clean skin and he almost groaned in satisfaction at the feel of it. The breeches fit like a glove, hugging his thighs and the boots felt as soft as sheepskin slippers. He declined the embroidered waistcoat for something a little less decorative and waited patiently while Coalport folded the most complicated cravat that he had ever seen.

A deep blue superfine evening coat finished the ensemble. It fit his shoulders as if it had been painted onto his body, but didn't feel in the least constricting and at Coalport's satisfied nod, he checked himself in the mirror. He blinked in surprise and almost looked over his own shoulder as he tried to spot himself in the reflection. The transformation was so incredible that he barely recognized himself. He looked as fine as any gentleman he had ever set eyes upon. Even his hair looked thicker and s.h.i.+nier than usual as it fell to his collar in dark, gleaming waves.

Coalport gave a last brush of his hands over the jacket shoulders and stepped back again.

”Spectacular, even though I say it myself. I've dressed some of the best men in the country during my years of service, but you Sir, you have eclipsed them all.” The pride in Coalport's expression was unmistakeable. He pushed Geoffrey towards the door. ”The ladies will be all a twitter within the hour and half of London will want to know you by luncheon tomorrow. Get along with you. The salon is downstairs on the right. I believe that the ladies will be down in ten minutes. It's always a good idea to arrive before them. If Bottomley isn't already in there, help yourself to the brandy. There will be some sherry or wine there too. The d.u.c.h.ess always used to take sherry before dining and I don't suppose much has changed. Pour it like you own it. Remember that as far as everyone is concerned, you are the gentleman of the house in Master Alexander's stead. Don't let anyone try and convince you otherwise. t.i.tles don't mean that a person is your better, the Duke of Ormond and his friend, Lord Caithwell excepted, of course.”

Geoffrey eyed the man in the mirror, took in a breath and straightened his shoulders. With a last grin at Coalport he strode from the room and quickly down the stairs to the salon.

Chapter Four.

Indiscretion and Innuendoes Charlotte looked blankly at the grey haired man beside her. He had spoken at length but she hadn't heard a word, so mesmerized was she at the sight of Geoffrey Talbot as he sipped his wine opposite her. Her companion cleared his throat and stared at her expectantly. She felt heat rising into her cheeks.

”I beg your pardon, Lord Armitage. I must be tired from all the travelling. I don't appear to be able to concentrate this evening.” The excuse was a lame one and she hoped that the man wouldn't think her the worst kind of ninny.

At the head of the table, Olivia broke in as she inclined her head and spoke softly to Lord Armitage.

”It's my fault entirely. I talked my Charlotte's ears off last night before we slept and while I dozed in the carriage today, I know that this young lady was awake and seeing to my comfort. Such a kind girl. I felt the wrap slip from my knees several times but it was only seconds before she tucked me in again. We appear to be having inclement weather for this time of year.”

Lord Armitage nodded, not the least bit offended by Charlotte's apparent lapse.

”Spring is turning out to be a long one. Devil only knows what's happening at my estate. I can see why Lord Caithwell has remained at home to supervise his lambing. Can't imagine how far behind the crops might be...don't even want to think of it actually. Constant worry what with the memories of the shortages only a few years ago. I was reminding my wife only the other day...”

Charlotte lost track of his conversation again as she glanced back at Geoffrey only to spot him tearing his gaze away from her and nodding slowly in response to something Lady Latham had said to him. Her unruly heart drummed out an uneven beat and her hand trembled as she stabbed a morsel of duck with her fork.

She had walked into the salon only an hour before and had been struck dumb at the sight of the G.o.d like figure in front of her. She knew that it was Geoffrey of course, but the transformation in him was so alarming that she found she could barely open her mouth to speak. The sight of him dressed in the finest garments had been so surprising that she had felt her knees actually quake beneath the layers of her silk skirts. While she already knew that Geoffrey had more than enough enviable qualities, the old adage that clothes didn't maketh the man was now firmly swept out of the window. They clearly made this man.

He had taken her hand in his and she had noticed his gleaming nails as he raised her fingers to his lips. The heat of his breath had brushed over the fine fabric of her gloves and the smoulder in his steady silver gaze had burned her as if she stood at the centre of a flaming pyre. It was fortunate that the d.u.c.h.ess had appeared only seconds later, for Charlotte was sure that she was about to turn into a molten puddle right in front of him.

His eyes remained trained on her deep decolletage for just a moment too long and she felt a flush of apprehension bloom in her cheeks as his eyes flicked back to hers. She had taken Olivia's advice on her choice of dress for the evening, though she had felt far too exposed by the cut of the gown. In her dressing-room she had tried to cover some of her ample charms with a fine lace shawl, but the d.u.c.h.ess had dismissed the material instantly, insisting that it drew even more attention to the exposed area rather than concealing it. Charlotte had seen a slight clenching of Geoffrey's jaw before the arrival of more guests had interrupted any remark or observance he might have made about her gown. He had remained nearly silent, responding with stiff politeness to introductions and only answering direct questions ever since.