Part 4 (2/2)

”I think that this trip has been a huge mistake. Olivia has been away from London for too long and has forgotten what the wagging tongues can be like, not that I have any experience myself, but the conversation I just left proves the rumours true. If it were not for want of selling my diamond, I would beg to leave this instant. I am not made for this type of life. I'm not interested in their silly exchanges, the cut of one's gown or the number of t.i.tles one has in their family. It's all so irrelevant and pathetic and I already long to go home.” She gave a small sniff.

Geoffrey leaned against the polished banister as he agreed with her.

”If you feel like that, just imagine what I am going through. I'd been here less than a minute before I filthied my gloves and hands on steps that I am not meant to touch. I argued, and almost brawled with a faithful and longstanding servant, and that was all before I discovered that Alexander has fitted me out with a wardrobe fit for a king and supplied an expert valet to organize me. I wouldn't have had a clue what to wear tonight if Coalport hadn't advised me.” He ran his hand through his hair in agitation and began to pace about the hall as he spoke again. ”I broke a gla.s.s that cost more than a month's worth of my wages, ruined the linen and then I was made privy to a conversation the like of which I hope I never have to take part in again. If it hadn't been for Bottomley's timely interruption and suggestion that we join you ladies, I swear that I would have thumped someone. G.o.d only knows what's going to happen when I am let out in public.” He drew in a long, frustrated breath.

Charlotte smiled up at him at last. She reached out, her hand skimming his fine jacket as he pa.s.sed. He stilled his pacing and turned to her. She brushed her fingertips down the velvet lapel of his beautiful dark blue evening coat and patted it flat against his breast.

”Panic not! You have been the perfect host, Geoff. Never doubt yourself or your fine attributes, though I have to admit that I wondered about the spectacular clothes when I first saw you in the drawing room this evening. I swear that I thought I was greeting someone of the aristocracy. Seeing as you only brought that tiny travelling valise with you, I was surprised at the amount you had fitted into it. I am glad to discover that Alexander has helped you. He clearly has excellent taste. This all suits you very well.”

Geoffrey looked down at her dainty fingers as she touched his coat collar and pressed the material to his chest. He closed his eyes briefly and he wished beyond words that there was no fabric between them. His heated flesh burned with pa.s.sion, but then he cursed his unruly heart. He was behaving no better than the men in the salon, l.u.s.ting after her as if she were no more than a b.i.t.c.h in heat.

He stepped back abruptly, hating himself for being so weak. He could not have her, would not attempt to. He gave her a quick bow.

”Thank you for your kind words, though I am feeling the waste of money already. The clothes will all have to be sold and the money returned to Alexander when I go home. I won't wear them again when I return to Ormond and I won't be beholden to anyone, least of all Alexander, especially as he must have ordered them all long before he even asked me to accompany you and his mother to town. I am still making up my mind as to whether I feel used or flattered.”

A small crease marred Charlotte's brow.

”Don't blame him, Geoff. He's done all of this to make you feel comfortable while you are escorting his mother and myself, nothing more. You would have felt awkward wearing your own clothes here in London, however much they suit your lifestyle at Ormond.”

He knew that she downplayed the fact that his own clothes were shabby at best and fit only for rags at worst, but it was all just another nail through his heart as she pointed out the differences in their stations in life. He gave her a quick bow.

”I must return to the guests. Sleep well, Lady Charlotte, I will see you at breakfast.” He turned away from her and refused to look back as he heard her run up the stairs behind him.

Chapter Five.

Pudding Forks and Apologies Never had seven days felt so long.

His ears positively burned with the drivel he had been forced to listen to each evening and he was sure that his brain was turning to mush from all the ridiculous conversations and supposedly witty remarks he had heard. He had no idea why it was such a t.i.tillating piece of gossip that Lord Whetstone had left Lady Wainwright's musical half an hour early, or that Pricilla Heatherington had danced twice with Lord Aberton at Lady Tremaine's ball.

He couldn't understand why people went to the theatre and then talked to one another so loudly between the boxes that it was impossible to know what happened during the performance on stage; and why an invitation from Lady Ashby should have caused such a twittering throughout the house, he couldn't even begin to fathom.

His feet ached from standing around at all the afternoon tea parties and the dancing required of him at the nightly b.a.l.l.s. His brow furrowed as he curled his aching toes inside his shoes. Some of the matrons were not as light on their feet as they should be. He swore blind that Olivia had laughed after seeing him wince repeatedly as the very plump Lady Haskins danced on his toes more than she did on the ballroom floor. He'd be speaking to Alexander about that one. Dancing was something he had sworn he would not do.

His neck itched uncomfortably from being shaved twice a day and he had lost count of the number of freshly starched and pressed cravats Coalport had tied on him. It was no wonder that the household employed so many staff. It seemed that he had only put on his morning attire before he had to change to go riding, and then change again to go to tea, and then again for dinner. He needed at least two maids all to himself what with was.h.i.+ng caused by the number of changes of clothes he was expected to make each and every day.

If being a gentleman meant living the rest of his life like he had for the past week, then he was glad that he was a lowly groomsman instead.

His only respite from the daily hustle and bustle had been when accompanying Charlotte in her so far, unsuccessful attempt to find a buyer for her diamond. Under the pretext of riding in the park, they had taken several detours into various parts of the city in their endeavours to sell the magnificent stone.

The jewel had not sold. Each man who took his eyegla.s.s to the sparkling bauble, sighed or gasped in wonder or surprise at the beauty of the rare stone before handing it back with sorrowful shakes of their heads and laments that they would be only too happy to take it off her hands if they could but afford it.

Charlotte's hopeful expression had dipped lower every day as one after another of the jewellers tipped it back into the velvet pouch in which she carried it. Today had been even worse as the jeweller they had sought out had already been told of the fabulous diamond being offered for sale. He refused to even look at the stone, stating that a thing of such rarity and beauty would haunt his dreams if her even caught sight of it. They rode home slowly, walking the horses through the park on the way back to the Albany.

”What was the point of my father leaving me such a stone if I can't realize its value?” She asked no one in particular as they pa.s.sed through the park.

Geoffrey remained silent. He had privately thought the exact same thing on their previous missions into the jewellery quarter. It occurred to him that the word 'priceless' meant exactly that. The stone was so valuable that it had no price. As no one had enough money to buy the thing, its value had become limited by its own splendour.

He frowned thoughtfully as Charlotte spoke again.

”It's not even as though I can wear the d.a.m.ned thing. It's as big as a doork.n.o.b!”

Geoffrey let out a laugh. The diamond was large, but not that large. Her exaggeration was due to frustration.

”You should have it made into one then. At least it would have a use.”

Charlotte laughed with him at last.

”Can you imagine if I used it as the bell-pull at Caithwell? I wonder how many people would guess at its value as they gave it a yank.”

Geoffrey shook his head.

”I daresay that they wouldn't give it a second glance. I mean, it's pretty but no more so than the ruby gla.s.s that hangs from the chandeliers. I don't suppose anyone would even notice it.”

Charlotte glanced over at him and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

”You are right. It's so big that no one would ever think it real. Still, it is a pity that I cannot seem to sell it. It would have freed up a huge amount of capital for the stables, but it appears I will have to find something else with which to raise the cash, though I am at a loss to think of what.”

Geoffrey's frown deepened.

”Do you really need the money? It's not as though we would leave you out of any profits when they arise. You do more than enough to earn your share.”

Charlotte sighed deeply.

”It's the principle of the thing. I want to do something of my own. Living off my guardian doesn't feel right to me. I know that Giles would give me anything if it was within his power to do it, but he has his own family and worries now. He shouldn't have to even consider me. My own family should have made better provision instead of squandering their wealth away.” Her cheeks flushed suddenly and Geoffrey was about to ask what she meant when Charlotte suddenly flicked her reins and sent her mount trotting ahead of him. He gave Lightning a light squeeze with his heels and was glad that the stallion followed her immediately, but even though he caught up to her within only a few strides, she didn't appear to want to discuss the matter any further. She kept her eyes on the path and remained silent as she rode, her chin held high. She kept her thoughts to herself and when they arrived back at the Albany she was whisked away by Olivia to prepare for that evening's entertainment.

Geoffrey followed her up the stairs and made his way to his own room where Coalport greeted him jovially and prepared for yet another change of clothes.

The Latham's ball was upon them and he vowed that nothing on the earth would have persuaded him to go if he hadn't known that the odious Charles Latham was going to be attending his mother's gathering. There was no way that he was about to leave Charlotte unattended while that oaf was about and so his nightly bathing and dressing rituals had begun again.

He groaned and shook his head as Coalport pulled out yet another peac.o.c.k coloured waistcoat. He blinked at the outrageously embroidered garment that he was apparently to wear at the Latham's ball that evening.

”You have to be joking. I am not wearing that thing in public anywhere. I'm no dandy and don't want to look like one. I'll wear the plain buff one again.”

Coalport pursed his lips and pressed them together. It had become a nightly challenge to kit Geoffrey out in something more daring, a challenge that Geoffrey wasn't about to cave in on or Coalport about to give up.

His valet shook the s.h.i.+mmering cloth under his nose.

”But this is the Latham's ball. It's rumoured that the Prince Regent will be attending. You cannot possibly be presented wearing the plain buff.”

Geoffrey frowned but wasn't anywhere near ready to give way. He flicked his hand in dismissal of the garment as he spoke.

”Why not? I'm sure that the Prince couldn't give a stuff what I might wear, not that I would ever be presented anyway. I am no one and no one is interested in me, least of all the Prince. To tell the truth, I am not much interested in him either. The rumours that surround him are not at all savoury. I understand that he keeps his wife and his mistresses all on the same premises just for his own convenience. He sounds hardly the sort of man I would like to meet.”

Coalport gave a shocked gasp as he rummaged through the vast wardrobe for an alternative waistcoat.

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