“Such a horrid life you must lead,” he muttered, shaking his head.
Mrs. Evansdale entered once more, bobbing yet again. “Mr. Burlington is here.”
“I am not receiving,” Mary reminded her, ignoring the way Geoff had begun to snicker.
“I know, Miss,” Mrs. Evansdale said with a motherly smile. “I just thought you ought to know. He left a lovely bouquet of flowers and expresses his most fervent wishes on a fast recovery with no lasting ill effects.” She bobbed once more, and turned from the room.
“Oh, come now,” Geoff said the moment she was gone. “You are going to see me, but not the standard by which all fops are measured?”
Mary expelled a burst of giggles and covered her mouth. “Oh, don’t! He is quite a nice gentleman.”
He shrugged. “I have no doubt of it. The epitome of a twit would have to be favorable in some form, or he would never get invited anywhere.”
Mary clamped her lips together as more laughs shook her shoulders.
“But really,” he continued as if nothing had happened, “you ought to at least take a look at the flowers he brought you. If the biggest waste of refinement and breath that was ever called a gentleman has gone to all the trouble of getting you flowers, without even checking to be sure if you like flowers, it would not hurt you to glance at the poor dead things.”
Mary was now beside herself with laughter, which unfortunately made her cough even more. She hunched forward as she coughed, and suddenly felt a hand at her back, rubbing soothing circles.
“There, there,” Geoff murmured, his voice soft and low, “there, now, I’m sorry.”
She shook her head as she recovered and patted his chest before he moved. “Don’t apologize,” she wheezed, coughing slightly. She smiled up at him and lay back against the pillows as he resumed his position in the chair. “Never apologize for making me laugh.”
He smiled uncertainly and rubbed his hands together. “But I should apologize for making you cough.”
Again, she shook her head. “Breathing makes me cough at the moment. Not you.”
Her errant strand of hair suddenly fell forward into her face. She went to move it, but Geoff’s hand was suddenly there. He slowly moved the hair out of her face, tucking it softly behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek with the lightest touch as they came forward, and Mary felt her face heat beneath them. She chanced a look at his face, only to find his eyes fixed on hers.
Her heart began racing within her and her breath was suddenly hard to find. And it had nothing to do with her illness.
His eyes flickered down to her lips, where puffs of air were escaping in the most shameful pants. Then they were back on hers, and somehow, there was more heat, more emotion, more power in them. Something she felt all the way to her toes, which curled involuntarily beneath her bed sheets.
She could not be this vulnerable to him. Not anymore.
She drew in a shaking breath. “I think… I had better… rest now,” she said in a soft, trembling voice.
His lips curved into the softest, sweetest smile. “Yes, you probably should, Mary.” He sat back and prepared to leave.
She swallowed quickly. “That is not your name for me.”
He turned in surprise and gave her a very serious look. “You told me not to use it any longer.”
Impulsively, she bit her lip. His eyes followed. “I…” she began, hesitating. What would he think of her?
His eyes met hers again and she found confidence. “I miss it,” she finally told him, smiling helplessly.
He stared at her for a long moment, hardly a reaction on his face. Then he sighed in apparent relief, and smiled once more. His smile was warm, tender, and something else she could not find a word for.
“Sleep well, Goose,” he murmured, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her forehead. He touched her cheek, and she met his eyes. “Send for me if you need anything.”
Somehow, amid her swirling senses, she nodded.
He moved to the door, grinning once more as if he had not just sent her mind and emotions and wits reeling.
Then he was gone.
She inhaled sharply and exhaled in one fell sweep, bringing her hand to her brow.
What in heaven’s name had just happened?
She had not felt that fluttery with him in years.
He had never looked at her like that before.
He had ever touched her so gently before.
He had never…
She shook her head and put it into her hands. She was imagining things. She was in very great danger of falling head over heels over heart for him yet again, and as usual, her mind was playing tricks on her for it.
She rubbed her chest absently, still feeling the burn within.
He was not in love with her.
And she was not in love with him.
Not anymore.
Geoff inhaled deeply as he stepped out of doors, determined to cleanse his lungs with the fresh air. He sorely needed it. He had meant to visit Mary as a way of cheering her up, and instead he had been the one affected.
Not that he had failed to notice the effect he had on her. He knew very well that she was no longer immune to him, he could see it in her eyes, in the slight trembling of her body, the shakiness of her breath. But all of that did not amount to love. He could not deny he was pleased by it, but it was not enough.
It would never be enough.
He shook his head to clear away the fog within it, and got into his carriage with a firm nod at Dawes.
It had been several weeks since their reconciliation, and he was delighted with the progress he had made towards rebuilding what he had almost destroyed. And he felt even more confident that Mary could come to love him, assuming he did not make a mess of things again. With their history, and given her responses to his treatment of her, he thought it just might be possible.
But he could never be entirely sure. After all, she had loved him on and off for all those years and he had never noticed a thing.
He was watching now, though. He was keeping a close eye on her throughout this time, so that he could be sure to catch the first hint.
He could not shake the nagging fear, however, that throughout her time as a debutante, she had learned to be a better actress than he would have thought. What if she could hide her emotions from him, as she had so long ago? What if he never saw the slightest trace of softening on her part? Would he have to swallow his fear and pride and confess all?
Would she ever believe him?
He sighed and glanced out of the window at the passing London buildings and people. There was not time to dwell on all of this now. He’d been meeting with Captain Riverton frequently, and they had set many things in motion. Now results were coming into light, and he was pleased with the progress that had been made.
No one outside of his circle of friends and Captain Riverton had any idea what they were about, save for the few contacts that the captain had utilized. Determining the fate of a ship and specific members of the crew was a messy business and had to be done with a great deal of tact. They could not possibly find out the fate of all that should have been aboard, and if anyone knew of their plan, that question would be raised.
He could not make such a request of Captain Riverton, nor of his contacts. He was fortunate enough to have gotten as far as he had.
They knew a great deal at this point. They knew the ship and crew had been in a Spanish port some eight weeks ago, and that at that time, Lieutenant Wyndham had been with them. But considering what they had known before, which was nothing, it was a start. They had also received word of a potential epidemic of a rather potent stomach virus in the vicinity of the port, but they were waiting for more details on that subject.
The other information that was vital was the knowledge that the ship had indeed left the harbor in Spain, and had done so nearly six weeks previously. All they waited upon now was the information as to whether or not Lieutenant Wyndham had been with his shipm
ates at the time of their departure. Those details were difficult to come by, and it was this crucial detail that had taken so long.
The waiting had been tortuous.
Keeping the secret from Mary, and from Cassie by extension, was painful beyond expression.
But he dared not discuss it with them. Not until he had something concrete to tell. For all he knew, the lieutenant had perished with the rest, and there was no hope. He could not bear to raise that hope in vain.
And so he met with his friends and the captain every few days to gather what information they could. Between their combined contacts, influence and determination, they had been able to manage much, and their progress had been impressive. But if they did not receive answers, real answers, soon, it would be too late.
“Do not wait for me, Dawes,” he told the man as they pulled up to the club. “I may be quite a long while. It is not far to home, I shall walk.”
Dawes inclined his head with a quick, “Yes, sir,” and was off again just as quickly.
Geoffrey entered the establishment, nodded to a few gentlemen he knew, and then spotted his friends and the captain at their usual table in the corner, drinks already in hand.
“Ah, Harris!” the captain called, standing and coming to shake his hand. “Good to see you.”
“Riverton.”
He nodded to his friends, who were not quite so polite nor so eager to see him as to stand for his arrival.
“How is Mary?” Nathan asked when he sat. “Moira is quite worried, but doesn’t wish to trouble her.”
Colin snorted loudly.
Nathan glared at him, even as the others fought to hide smiles. Captain Riverton looked as though he was not sure whether he was to be smiling with the others or frowning with Nathan.
“Something to say about my wife, Colin?” Nathan growled.
Colin shook his head, but said, “The very idea that Moira should be a trouble to anyone is absurd, Nate.”
Nathan frowned more, then turned to Geoff. “So how is Mary?”
“Bored,” Geoff said on a sigh. “Being confined to bed does not suit her. But she is in good spirits, though frustrated with the amount of flowers gathering in her foyer.”
Now the lot snickered, save for poor Captain Riverton, who was still confused.
“You may tell Moira she would be more than welcome,” Geoff told Nathan when they had settled themselves. “Mary was delighted beyond words to see me, I can only imagine how desperate that is.”
Nathan and Derek hid smiles, while Duncan and Colin nodded soberly.
Geoff ignored the lot of them and turned to the captain. “Now, then, Riverton. What news do we have from your friends in Spain?”
Captain Riverton slowly set down his glass, and stared at it for a long moment.
The table became subdued instantly as all gazed upon the young man. Geoff felt his stomach sink in despair.
“Will?” Derek asked quietly.
Riverton glanced up, then smiled broadly. “I think we may have something after all.”
Chapter Twenty One
“Cassie, can you come and help me with this?”
There was no response.
Mary waited a count of thirty, and then tried again. “Cassie! I need your help!”
Again, her sister did not reply.
“If you don’t come and help, I won’t keep any of your gowns at all and you will have to go about the country in your mourning dress or stark naked!”
She grinned at her own threat. If that wouldn’t send her sister scampering into the spare bedchamber used exclusively for Cassandra’s wardrobe, nothing on earth would.
As it happened, it didn’t. Not only that, but Mary heard no reply whatsoever. She set down the pile of gowns she had started to look through and put her hands on her hips. Despite her threats, she was not about to make any sort of lasting decision about which of her sister’s gowns would be suited for the country, and which should be packed away for the rare London excursion. As well as Mary knew her sister, she was not at all versed in her taste for fashion.
If she were to make a mistake, the world might collapse in on itself and they would all be lost forever.
She turned from the room and set about to find her sister, drag her by the arm up to this room if she must, and force her to make these decisions for herself.
Cassandra had not lessened her behavior in the last few weeks. She rarely left her bedchamber, and when she did, never ventured to the main floor. It was a very good day if her hair progressed beyond a loose braid, and an even more fortunate day if she was not wearing black. She was determined to mourn her “dear, sweet Simon” as if they had actually wed, which meant her current fashion was dictated by how mournful she felt that day, whether she wore black or merely something very drab and plain.
Either way, the change was not something Mary was prepared to deal with, though she knew she wouldn’t have much of a choice. Cassie had been moaning about losing him for months now.
Recovering from his death would be much worse.
Her first stop was Cassandra’s bedchamber, which had become her private sanctuary of late. If Cassie was ignoring her, she would be in this room.
She knocked softly, knowing it was unlikely she would respond now when she had not before. When she had no response, she entered of her own accord.
“Cassie! Stop ignoring me!” she scolded as she pushed open the door.
The room was entirely empty. The curtains were drawn, as they had been for weeks, and the room itself was as morose and solemn as Cassie herself had been. A mere five minutes in such a place and even the happiest of persons would find nothing to smile about.
She shuddered delicately and backed out of the room as quickly as she could.
Out in the hall, she frowned and placed her hands on her hips. If Cassie was not in her room, there was no telling where she might have gone, except she would stay indoors. Were they in the country, she might have walked about aimlessly for hours bemoaning her situation, but in the busy and Society-flooded London, she wouldn’t risk being seen in such a state.
Her sister might have been an emotional and flighty creature, but she wasn’t one to put on a show merely to gain attention.
For the public, at least.
Mary had seen a great many performances in her time.
She checked her own bedchamber, not that Cassie venturing in there was likely, but since Mary had acquired a few gowns that Cassie had envied greatly, it was possible, but that too was empty.
The other bedrooms, all typically empty but kept in readiness, were as vacant as they ever were.
She huffed in irritation and made her way down the stairs, frowning as she considered where to go next. She ought to just move on to a different project. One that would not require her sister’s assistance.
She shook her head. This needed to be done at some point, and it might as well be done today. If Cassandra was so involved in her perpetual mourning that she couldn’t assist in the preparations that Mary was undertaking to remove her to the country for a more private recovery, then all of the decisions would be made by Mary herself and very quickly, and they would be gone as soon as possible.
Mary took in a breath, and then released it slowly. She shouldn’t be so quick to judge her sister, not when such a tragedy truly had occurred. It would have been difficult for any woman, and Cassandra had long proved that she was more emotional than the average woman.
She turned towards the back of the house, only to find Mrs. Evansdale sitting in a chair outside of the drawing room, her face in her hands.
“Mrs. Evansdale?” Mary cried softly, coming to her knees before her. “Whatever is the matter?”
The woman sniffled and raised her head, her plump cheeks red and stained with tears. “Miss Cassie h-has a visitor.”
That was not the reply that Mary had expected.
“That is lovely,” Mary said, choosing her words with care and keeping her voice calm. “Who is it?”
<
br /> Mrs. Evansdale’s lower lip quivered and she shook her head. She waved her handkerchief at the drawing room, where the door was very slightly ajar.
Mary restrained a sigh, and rose, moving to the room softly.
She shouldn’t intrude upon her sister’s privacy, but if she must…
She had to cover her mouth to keep from gasping at the sight.
Very rapidly she backed away, until the stairs met her back. She met Mrs. Evansdale’s eyes, and found herself wanting to cry as well.
“Send for Geoffrey Harris,” Mary whispered, her voice choking in her throat.
Mrs. Evansdale hiccupped, but nodded.
“Now!” Mary hissed, smiling.
The woman nodded instantly and darted away, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Mary clamped her lips together, and then felt giggles bubble up within her. She couldn’t wait to see Geoff’s face when he found out.
Geoff grinned as he approached Mary’s house mere minutes after receiving the message that she needed to see him at once.
He had been waiting for this message for two days now.
He didn’t wait for the carriage to completely stop before he stepped out and strode up to the door of her house, keeping his expression devoid of emotion. He knocked swiftly, and only had to wait a moment before Winston, with his inexorably good timing, opened the door for him and bade him enter.
Mary waited for him by the stair, her hands mangling each other in front of her, her teeth clamping down on her lip so fiercely she was likely to draw blood.
“What’s the to-do, Goose?” he asked lightly. “Your note was rather cryptic, even for you.”
She put a finger to her lips and waved him after her as she turned towards the back of the house.
He hid his smile and obediently followed.
They came to the drawing room door, which was open just enough for one to look in without being noticed.
“Who are you spying on this morning, Mary?” Geoff whispered, grinning.
Secrets of a Spinster Page 23
