by Ella Quinn
Littleton escorted her out for the first set. Still, Geoff had the first waltz and the supper dance. Keeping out of sight, he leaned against a pillar, waiting for his opportunity to stand up with her.
Two sets later, he bowed to Miss Turley, taking her hand. “My dance, I believe.”
“It is, my lord.” A small smile graced her lips. He wanted more from her.
“Thank you for agreeing to two sets.” He placed his palm on her waist and wanted to draw her closer.
She shrugged lightly. “I had a set open. Why should you not have it?”
Why indeed. The music began, but he waited until the turn before closing the space between them. Geoff was pleased she did not complain or attempt to move back. Gazing down at her, for the first time he could think of nothing to say.
Miss Turley’s head tilted slightly to one side as she gazed back at him. “Lady Somerville has done a wonderful job decorating.”
The ballroom was filled with gold and pink silk. Large bunches of lilies had been set in each corner and potted plants lined the sides of the room. The French windows, as well as the long windows lining the wall, were open, allowing a slight breeze into the ballroom. How would Miss Turley decorate for their first ball? “Yes, she has.”
When he said nothing more, he could swear he heard her sigh. “I read that some elements are creating a problem with funding for Wellington.”
“I have heard the same. Why can they not understand that he and the army is all that stands between us and Napoleon? We dare not allow him to win.”
“We must pray cooler heads will prevail. When do you depart for the Continent?”
“I don’t know yet.” He would not say that it depended on her.
“My brother knows a number of gentlemen who are in the army and traveling to Brussels and the surrounding areas. I suppose you do as well.”
“We most likely know a number of the same fellows.” He did not wish to discuss the coming war with her, but he didn’t know what else to say.
The second set was just as frustrating as the first, and he left the ball not knowing if he had managed to secure her or not. Geoff only knew that he had to do something to ensure Miss Turley was his.
* * *
The next morning, fate was against him again, and Geoff couldn’t figure out what he’d done to deserve such Turkish treatment. He had finally decided to visit Lord Turley and ask for Miss Turley’s hand in marriage, but when he arrived at their town house the butler had said Lord Turley left early that morning for his estate, and only Mr. Turley knew when his lordship would return. Yet, he was not expected back until later that afternoon. Geoff didn’t bother asking if Miss Turley was at home. She would be at Lady Worthington’s End of Season Breakfast.
He reached the pavement in front of Turley House and turned toward his rooms.
He could go to one of his clubs, but chances were all he’d hear about was the last entertainments of the Season, if there was anyone about at all with the breakfast going on this morning. Although he had received an invitation to the event, after the way he had left things with Lady Charlotte, he had sent his regrets.
“Ho, Harrington.” Lord Endicott quickened his step as Geoff turned and waited. “I didn’t see you at Lady Worthington’s breakfast.”
“No, I got caught up with something else.” Such as trying to find the father of the lady Geoff now wished to wed.
“You missed the surprise of the Season.” Endicott fell in beside Geoff.
He turned with the other gentleman toward Jermyn Street. “What surprise is that?”
“Lady Charlotte Carpenter and Kenilworth married this morning. The End of Season Breakfast was actually their wedding breakfast.”
“What’s so strange about that?” Geoff knew she’d marry Kenilworth. Everyone knew they would wed. Oddly enough, for all that Geoff had wanted her as his wife, he didn’t feel bad about it. He had Miss Turley now. Or he would have her soon. “Other than Lady Worthington not announcing it was a wedding breakfast, that is?” Which was rather odd, now that he thought about it.
“Seems Kenilworth didn’t know he was getting leg-shackled today.” Endicott chuckled. “That’s the reason for the subterfuge about the wedding breakfast.”
How could it even occur that a gentleman wouldn’t know he was getting married? “That doesn’t make sense. You must have heard the story wrongly.”
“Not at all. I was there and heard the man himself. Kenilworth was laughing about how he’d been after Worthington for days to set a date, and the lengths Lady Charlotte had gone to keep him in the dark.” Endicott laughed again. “Never seen a man so happy to be humbugged.”
Geoff wasn’t sure he’d want to be the groom at a surprise wedding. In fact, he did not like to be caught unawares at all. And for the first time, he was actually glad he had not wed Lady Charlotte if she went around doing foolish things like that.
He couldn’t see Miss Turley behaving in such an impudent manner. Perhaps he was luckier than he had known to have lost Lady Charlotte. Of course, that made him even more resolved to get Miss Turley to the altar. Despite what his cousin had said, he was not going to lose her. One way or the other, he was going to get the lady to the altar.
Endicott continued to talk about the wedding breakfast while they made their way to Jermyn Street. Eventually, he asked, “How goes your quest for a wife?”
“Between you and me, I had hoped to make an offer for Miss Turley today.” Geoff grimaced. “But her father is out of Town for a few days.”
“Turley, hmm? Bad luck, that,” Endicott said sympathetically. “Seems like a nice chit. Pretty enough, but too quiet for me.”
Geoff had no intention of telling Endicott that Miss Turley was not nearly as quiet as she appeared next to Lady Charlotte or Lady Louisa—mayhap because Miss Turley did not put herself forward. He didn’t need Endicott to become interested in her. Geoff also found he did not like her being referred to as a “chit.” She might be in her first Season, but she was extremely mature. “She suits me.”
“M’mother’s been after me to marry, but it looks like I’ll have to wait until next Season,” Endicott confided. “Can’t say I’m interested in any of the ladies left.”
“I have been told,” Geoff said, “that many families are taking their daughters to Brussels, now that the English are no longer welcome in Paris.”
“Can’t see that’s such a good decision with Boney on the move.” As Endicott’s sentiments were the same as Geoff’s, there was nothing more to say on the subject.
Once they reached their respective buildings, Geoff said, “I shall see you at Lady Somerset’s ball, I expect.”
“Of course.” Endicott waved a salute. “Good luck with your lady.”
“Thank you.” Geoff only wished he was confident enough to call Miss Turley his lady to anyone but himself.
He entered his rooms to find several letters on the small mahogany table against one wall. Selecting the one addressed from the foreign office he opened it.
Dear Lord Harrington,
I am writing to inform you that Sir Charles sends you his compliments and requests you be available prior to the middle of June. You are to travel to Brussels where Sir Charles is currently advising the Prince of Orange.
Yr servant, etc.
The middle of June! Damnation. That only gave Geoff just over two weeks to marry and make the journey to Belgium. He’d have to track down Miss Turley’s brother today and hope that he didn’t have to travel to Suffolk to meet with her father.
The last time he’d left Town it had not gone well for him.
* * *
Shortly after luncheon, Geoff once again climbed the shallow steps to Turley House and knocked on the door.
“My lord.” The butler bowed. “Mr. Turley will see you in the library.”
Unlike with Worthington, at least this time when Geoff had left a message stating he wanted to see a gentleman about a lady, the gentleman was present.
He followed the butler down the corridor on the left side of the hall to the back of the house. The door opened to a room filled with bookshelves and windows. A massive desk with chairs in front of it stood in the center of the room between two windows. Gavin Turley sat in a large leather chair behind the desk.
“Sir.” The servant bowed. “The Earl of Harrington to see you.”
Turley stood. “Harrington, well met.” He waved Geoff to a small sofa in front of an unlit fireplace. “Please have a seat. Broadwell will bring tea unless you’d like brandy or wine.”
“Tea, if you please.” He didn’t need to drink spirits during this interview. Too much depended on receiving the answer he wanted.
Turley took the chair opposite Geoff. He and Turley discussed the happenings on the Continent until tea was brought in and set on the table between them.
Once they each had a cup, Turley said, “I take it you wish to discuss my sister.”
Geoff took a sip then set down the cup. “I had hoped to speak with your father about my intentions toward her.”
“Unfortunately, he was called away. Estate business, you understand. I have no idea when he will return.” Turley’s tone was genial, but there was an undercurrent of something that Geoff couldn’t place beneath the man’s bonhomie.
Geoff inclined his head, and wondered if he had wasted his time coming here. He took another sip of tea. “Of course.”
“He did, however, charge me with seeing to Elizabeth.” Turley’s smile seemed to have a few too many teeth, and Geoff started to feel slightly off balance. “What exactly did you wish to discuss?”
Thank the Fates that he would not have to wait any longer. This was finally his chance to become betrothed to Miss Turley.
His opportunity to procure a wife and arrive in Brussels in a timely fashion. “As you are aware, I have taken an interest in your sister.” The man raised a brow as if he did not quite believe Geoff. “I would like to marry Miss Turley. The time I have spent with her has convinced me that we would deal well together.”
“I see.” Leaning back against the plump cushions of the chair, Turley formed a steeple with his fingers. “Does my sister know you are interested in marrying her?”
Drat. The man had to know Geoff had not spoken with her about it. “Naturally, I wished to speak with her father first.”
“Very proper.” Turley agreed too easily for Geoff’s peace of mind. “As to the amount of time you have spent with her, I do not accept that it is sufficient to form an opinion as to whether or not my sister would agree to marry you. Lord Littleton has, I dare say, been in her company as much as you have. That said, I can and shall give you permission to court her. It is, nevertheless, up to Elizabeth if she wishes to accept your proposal.”
“Lord Turley—”
“Will tell you the same thing,” Turley said, cutting Geoff off.
This was not at all what he had expected. It was, in fact, quite the opposite. Since the beginning of the Season, rumor had it that Lord Turley wanted to get his daughter off his hands and was prepared to accept any reasonable offer.
Had gossip been wrong or was Mr. Turley lying? Geoff had half a mind to seek out his lordship, but that would mean wasting several days traveling and, with Littleton sniffing around her skirts, Geoff did not have the time to spare. He would just have to deal with the brother’s answer.
“Thank you.” He hid his growing anger at being denied an immediate acceptance. “Do you know if Miss Turley is at home?”
“Not at the moment.” Gavin Turley grinned as if he’d won a hard-fought match. “Join us for tea. She will be here then.”
Standing, Geoff held out his hand as the other man came around the table between the two chairs. “Thank you. I shall do as you suggest.”
“We shall see you then.” Turley escorted Geoff to the front door. “I wish you the best of luck in your quest. If it makes you feel any better, I think you and my sister would suit as well. She is, however, the one you’ll need to convince.”
“Thank you again.” The door closed behind him as he walked down the steps.
Devil take it. His grandmother and cousin were right. He would have to go beyond dancing twice in an evening with her, sending flowers, and taking her for rides in the Park. There was no way around making a fool of himself. He’d have to find that dratted list again.
No matter what he had to do, one way or another, he would convince Miss Turley to be his bride. If only he could find a way to get Littleton out of Town, Geoff would have no competition for her hand.
Chapter Eleven
Elizabeth peeped around the corner at the top of the stairs just in time to see Lord Harrington walk out the front door. Her dances with him left her feeling more confused than ever. Lately, he seemed to have lost all his conversation.
She waited until he would have had time to reach the pavement before glancing at her brother. “What did he say?”
“I’ll tell you in the library. If our aunt is here, you’d better bring her, too. I don’t want to have to tell the story twice.”
“She has gone to visit a friend.” Elizabeth hurried down the stairs, catching up with Gavin as he held open the library door. Sinking onto the smaller of the chairs facing the desk, she folded her hands in her lap. “Tell me everything.”
“I suspect you know he asked to marry you.” She nodded. That was the only reason Lord Harrington would wish to speak with her brother. “I told him only you could make that decision.” She opened her mouth, and he held up a hand. “He was not happy, but I went on to say that I would give him permission to court you.”
Oh, that was perfect! “And what did he say to that?”
“He didn’t look any happier than he had before, but thanked me and asked if you were at home.”
“We were all correct. He is interested in marrying me, but without the effort of fixing my attentions.”
“You are probably right.” Her brother nodded. “On the other hand, he might simply want to make sure he’d cut Littleton out. I told him he could join us for tea.”
“Tea again?” The last time he had come for tea, it had accomplished nothing.
“I’ll make sure you have some time alone with him.” Her brother’s easy manner suddenly became sober. “Lizzy, is this . . . he is what you want, isn’t he?”
“I am almost positive,” she tried to assure him. “We do have a great deal in common.” Even if Lord Harrington did not realize it yet. “And I would dearly love the life of a diplomat’s wife. I have always had an interest in foreign travel.”
Gavin came around the desk and took her hands. “Lizzy, I want you to have a good life. The life you want. If you think Harrington is the one, I shall continue to help you.”
“Thank you.” Blinking back tears, Elizabeth recalled how angry she was when he had interfered with her cousin’s plan to force Lord Merton into marrying her. Yet, Gavin had been right. Dotty and Merton belonged together. Papa, on the other hand, wanted Elizabeth to marry well and this Season. He had been furious with Gavin for interfering, but her brother remained firm, and now he was helping her again. “You are the best brother I could have. But Papa—”
“I’ll take care of him.” Gavin scowled for a moment. “Mind though, if you find you don’t want Harrington, I’ll send him to the right about before Papa returns.” Her brother lightly squeezed her fingers. “I don’t want to rush you, but you’ll need to make a decision soon. I doubt Grandmamma can keep our father in the country the rest of the Season. Not since he knows Harrington is looking for him.”
She was surprised her father had agreed to leave at all. “Yes.” Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, of course.” Not only was Papa a problem, but Aunt said that Lord Harrington had only a short time to wed and leave for the Continent. Even if she wished to wait, she could not. “If he begins to seriously court me”—because after all no one would say that one dance an evening, although he had begun asking for two even though it had not yet happened, and the occasional ri
de could be considered serious—“I should be able to soon know my mind.”
“That’s all I ask.” The corner of Gavin’s lips tilted up and the sparkle came back into his eyes. “Do something to take your mind off Harrington for a few hours. Take your maid and a footman.”
“That is a wonderful idea.” Elizabeth took out her handkerchief, dabbed the tears gathering in her eyes, and blew her nose. “I believe I shall go shopping.”
“Tell you what, have the bills sent here, and I’ll pay them. No point in you ending up at point non plus before quarter day.”
Not that she ever was short on funds. She’d discovered early on to manage her pin money. “Thank you again.” She reached up to hug him and he stepped back. “I almost forgot you don’t like your cravat mussed.”
“No, I don’t.” He smoothed one of the folds in his neckcloth. “If you knew how long it took me, or how many cravats I went through to achieve the Mathematical, you’d never try to embrace me again.”
Even though she loved seeing a gentleman in a well-tied neckcloth, she did not understand the necessity of them tying their cravats themselves. “It would probably not take half as long if you had your valet tie it.”
Gavin’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “I’m not such a coxcomb that I’d have my valet tie my cravat.” He reached up as if to grip his neckcloth, then dropped his hand. “I’d never be able to hold my head up again.”
“I shall on no account mention it again,” she said, trying to mollify him. After all, he was doing her a great service with Lord Harrington. “I just thought it would be easier.”
“Easier is not the point, my girl. It’s developing the skill. Why, Beau Brummell is said to go through up to twenty cravats a day before he is satisfied.”
