A Gallant Gamble (Unrivalled Regency Book 3)

by Williams, Jackie

  Charlotte giggled as she lifted her hand out of the bowl again and dried it on a cloth. She stared at it for a moment.

  “I wonder if Alexander has any idea about this development. Obviously he cannot know about tonight, but I wonder if he ever had any suspicions. Is he going to be angry with his mother, do you think? It seems that she has held emotions for the man for some time and Coalport is a servant after all.”

  Geoffrey placed his teacup back in its saucer very carefully before he raised his silver eyes to Charlotte’s summer sky blue ones.

  “You forget, I am a servant too. I have feelings as well you know, and yet you sit here with me dressed in nothing but our nightwear.” His cold tones swept over her and she raised her hand to her mouth as she realized what she had intimated.

  “I never...Geoff, you are not a servant. I have never thought of you like that. Alexander and Lily never think of you like that and neither do Giles and Anne, I know it. Olivia has known you since your birth. You played with her sons. You are our friend and co investor in the stables. You are not a servant, but even if you were, we would all want you in our lives. You are a good man. An honest and hardworking man, ready to do his friends favours at a moment’s notice even if you find them challenging or demanding. You are the best of men.”

  Geoffrey stood up and rinsed his cup in a splash of water. He turned back to her slowly.

  “I am the son of Alexander’s father’s steward. I have no social standing and no great family background. My mother still lives in a cottage in Oakley and I live in a stable block above the very stables I work in. I think that makes me a servant in everyone’s eyes.”

  Wondering how the conversation had changed so quickly, Charlotte stood as he made for the door.

  “No you are not! You are being a stubborn fool. You are only a servant because you tell yourself that you are one. You choose to live and work in the stables. You have been treated as a gentleman for as long as I have known you. I have never heard Alexander demand a thing of you and since we have been here not one man has suggested that you are otherwise. You have behaved a lot better than most who aspire to use the title. I do not think Alexander will be angry with his mother or with Frederick Coalport either. I think that he will be thrilled that she’s happy again at last.”

  Geoffrey let out a hollow laugh.

  “Then why even mention his status if you think that everyone will be fine with it. You don’t understand, Charlotte. I am in the same position as Coalport. I work for Alexander. He pays my wages every quarter just as he does the rest of the staff at Ormond. I am a servant.”

  Charlotte placed her hands on her hips.

  “And that’s why Alexander has you in for dinner every evening, is it? And why he goes to the Bear and Dragon with you every weekend, and why he buys you vast quantities of new clothes that you can’t possibly need when accompanying his mother on a trip to London. That’s far more than he has done for Coalport. It’s far more than any Duke would do for a mere servant.”

  Geoffrey frowned deeply as he thought about her words.

  “You are absolutely right. It is far more, but that’s only because I helped his family during their troubles when his father and brother died. He feels that he owes me something because I remained with his family until he could come home. I only did what anyone would have done and tried to keep things going for him. He’s paying me back the only way he knows how.”

  Charlotte’s blonde curls danced about her shoulders as she shook her head.

  “But that was years ago. If that’s what he was doing then he’s paid you back a hundred times over by now. He does it because he likes you. For goodness sake! You, Alexander and Lily used to play together as children. You saved his best friend’s life. Can’t you see that you are far more than anyone’s servant.”

  Geoffrey sighed.

  “You’ll never understand. I wouldn’t expect you to. I shouldn’t even be sitting down here drinking tea with you. Giles would consider it the height of impropriety. You were born into a titled family and never had to work a day in your life. You have never wanted for a thing before and as soon as you find that rich husband here in London, you will never want for anything again.” He knew that he had said the wrong thing as soon as he noticed Charlotte’s eyes narrow to near slits, but he stood his ground as she came towards him, half interested in what she was about to berate him with, but mostly because she looked so damnably gorgeous that he simply couldn’t turn away.

  He wasn’t wrong about her mood. He watched in awe as she came at him in a swirl of outraged cotton and lifted her chin.

  “And that was how Giles discovered me, was it? All primped up in a new gown and dining on pheasant with plum sauce? Is that what you think? Well, let me open your eyes to the truth. A title means very little if you have a drunken brother and a dissolute father who care nothing for you. I had nothing, not a penny to my name or even a damned dress I could wear without the seams renting where they had been repeatedly let out over the years. I was never given an allowance and had no access to the family funds. The rags I wore were cut down from my dead brother’s shirts and I tied his breeches about my waist with rope from the well just to remain decently clothed. Water dripped from every ceiling in the house and even the rats had left the sinking ship because there was nothing left to devour.” She came a step closer to him as she railed on. “I ate a crust of stale bread for my breakfast and had vegetable soup for my tea. I had become so thin that I looked fourteen when I was nearly eighteen. If Giles hadn’t come that very day and bought me food and clothes I would have had to choose between butchering Lightning or starvation and tying myself up in a curtain or walking around half naked. Being a penniless woman, Lady or not, who has no choice but to rely on demonstrably unreliable men is far, far worse than being a servant or even being in a relationship with a servant.” She prodded him in the centre of his chest with a very pointed finger as she hissed up at him. “And that is all very far from being someone’s lifelong friend. You need to pull out the poker that’s so firmly stuck up your arse and start appreciating the friendship that some people are more than willing to give you.”

  Geoffrey’s mouth dropped open in shock. He stood speechless as a furious Charlotte dropped her finger from his chest and swept past him. A door slammed somewhere above him a few moments later and still he stood there as if in a trance. The house became silent around him again. He blinked several times while wondering if he had been hit by a whirlwind before he took a deep breath and walked back to the stove. He touched his finger to the teapot. It was still hot. He poured out a final cup of tea and sat back at the table while his mind wandered over her words.

  Had she really been so poor? Without food or clothing? He could scarce believe it as he recalled the first day that he had seen her, stepping out of Giles’ carriage at Ormond’s front door. She had looked like a golden haired goddess, a young lady full of beauty and life, with everything to live for. Her silken dress had drifted about her slender body and her smile had lit up the sky. And he had fallen in love with her that very instant even though he refused to admit it until now. He knew it was wrong, she was a Lady, far out of his reach and far too young.

  But now he knew that was all an illusion.

  Did she only look so youthful due to being nearly starved? Had Giles only bought her dresses because she had nothing to else wear?

  Sweat broke out on his brow at the mere thought. Even in the direst times at Ormond, he’d always had clothes on his back and there had always been food on the table. Plenty of it too. The midnight escapades to the kitchens with Alexander always brought forth trays of fresh lardy cakes or fruit filled tarts. There might not have been the variety there was now, but cook had always managed to have enough leavings to put a tray at the gate for Oakley’s poor. His heart clenched and his hands shook with rage as he visualized a raggedly dressed Charlotte creeping up to the gate and feeding off Ormond’s leftovers.

  He’d heard that her brother had ki
lled himself falling from a borrowed horse while drunk. Apparently he’d lost his own mount at a game of cards that very same evening, but Geoffrey had no idea how bad things were for Charlotte. No wonder Giles had stayed at home to see to the birthing of the spring lambs. He and Anne had been at Caithwell barely a year. If the situation there was as dire as Charlotte implied there was no way that Giles could afford to lose any of his new stock. He wasn’t a rich man, but the title was thrust upon him because the rightful heir threw his life away.

  Geoffrey rubbed his hand over his face as his mind went back to when he had taken Giles’ body back to Caithwell after the unfortunate man had been hung. It had been near dark by the time he arrived with his sombre burden, but he had noticed some new repairs to the roof. Once inside, he’d wondered about the lack of furniture and closed up rooms, but had assumed that it was because Giles had only just inherited the estate. He had thought it was due to the fact that only Giles and Charlotte and a few staff lived there, not because Charlotte’s father and brother had let the house fall to ruin. He’d assumed that her abandoned outbursts and wild behaviour were due to her being a spoiled and indulged child, not because she had been desperate and forgotten.

  How could he have possibly so misjudged her? Had he misjudged Alexander and Giles too?

  When Giles’ son was born, he and Anne had named him after Geoffrey. They had thought highly enough of him to actually name the heir of Caithwell after a lowly stable hand. How many Lords would do that even if he had contributed to saving the man’s life?

  He couldn’t take all the credit for Giles’ rebirth because Charlotte was the one who had come up with the mad plan of drugging Giles enough to relax him and then put him in a deep enough sleep for the doctor to assume that he was dead at the gallows. It was only because the hanging had taken place a little early that Geoffrey had had to put the second part of Charlotte’s scheme into action. Something she had hoped to avoid due to the inherent difficulties of catching a dead weight as heavy as Giles, and having the doctor on site to see what Geoffrey was doing. He’d only just caught the man as he dropped through the trap door and he’d made a poor job of that, letting Giles slip through his arms until he was nearly strangled, though that and the strange concoction Charlotte had prepared, convinced both the doctor and Geoffrey that Giles had met his end anyway.

  And the man still named his son after him. He could have chosen Charles to honour Charlotte, and yet he hadn’t.

  Geoffrey rubbed his hand over his brow as realization finally dawned.

  Good God! Giles really had asked him to come to London as a friend of the family, not just because he could be ordered to do so if Alexander had chosen to. Alexander had asked him too. The man had wanted someone he could trust implicitly to look after his mother on their journey and, when he had stubbornly refused, had put persuasions in his path that he knew Geoffrey couldn’t overlook. Like the fact that Latham and Rookwood were still on the loose and possibly out to hurt Charlotte again. At least now he felt as though she was safe enough from Lord Latham.

  Charlotte was right about the clothes too. If he had been a true servant, Alexander would have had maybe three sets made and provided one pair of second hand boots, just so that Geoffrey didn’t look too out of place while accompanying his mother and Geoffrey’s ward. He wouldn’t have cared if they had fitted well or if they made him feel comfortable. If Geoffrey was a true servant, comfort wouldn’t have crossed Alexander’s mind. Instead, Alexander had commissioned a first rate wardrobe. Geoffrey had worn the first fashions of the season made from the best quality fabrics by master tailors. He’d had the choice of a different shirt and breeches every single day. The soft leather boots fit like gloves and felt like he was walking in his slippers because they had been made especially to fit his large feet and they must have cost the earth. Far more than a servant would have earned in ten years service, and he had three pairs of them to choose from, made exclusively for him!

  He thought back to his time at Ormond both before and since Alexander had come home from the war. Even before the old Duke and Phillip had died, things had been difficult enough with all the staff laid off and only those who had lived there all their lives allowed to remain. It had become even worse after the tragic events that killed both the Duke and his first-born son. Geoffrey had been alone and unable to cope with a huge estate and two grieving women. He’d spent weeks trying his best to hold it all together, hoping that Alexander would soon hear word and return to make things right...and the man had. He’d arrived at Ormond late one evening, scarred, tired and sad, with his best friend Giles Denvers in tow, and even through his own grief, Alexander had lugged Geoffrey into a backslapping hug, holding nothing back as he greeted his boyhood friend.

  Now he thought about it, he never once had to call Alexander by his title nor had he been ordered to carry out any tasks. Neither had he ever been excluded. From trips into town to picnics on the beach, he had been welcomed to every meal or outing. He had laughed alongside Alexander as they had both slogged and sweated with Giles to bring the castle back in some semblance of order. They had played cards for brandy bottle stoppers and had drunk each other under the table on the old Duke’s best brandy, at every opportunity.

  Alexander had even given him his own suite of rooms in the old castle! Geoffrey hung his head in shame as he thought of the way he had always scorned it all, pretending that he preferred the stables simply because he was too proud to appear as though freeloading off a friend...a friend. The words rattled around his head.

  Good grief! How could this evening have turned out so arse about face? They had been talking about a relationship between his valet Coalport and the Duchess, before he’d shoved his own huge foot in his mouth and made it all about himself.

  Charlotte was right about one thing. He needed to take the poker out of his stubborn, selfish arse and shove it right in his eye where it might make him realize what an ungrateful, rude and self centred friend he was being. Not that he wanted to sponge from Alexander, he would have to make that very clear, but working in the stables, exercising the fabulous horses and taking his fair share of the income from breeding new blood should be enough, and it was. It really was.

  Alexander had been paying him for something he loved doing, something he should have been doing for his friend without thought. Alexander fed him, housed him, and entertained him. He had barely spent a penny in nearly four years, hoarding it beneath his mattress in old feed sacks and counting it twice a year like an ancient miser. A miser like Latham’s father who would rather see a young woman ostracized from her friends and thrown out on her ear than help her in any way he could.

  A clock somewhere in the house struck four in the morning and several others joined in a few moments later. He looked out of the window and saw a crack of light in the sky. A bird outside the kitchen door began its dawn chorus. He rose slowly from the table and took a firm step towards the door. He needed to sleep on things and for once he didn’t have to be up early in the morning.

  Their visit to the Prince’s stables wasn’t until three in the afternoon but whatever the Prince offered him, he now knew that he would refuse it. His loyalty rested within Ormond. He would repay the friendship Alexander had so unselfishly offered him and refuse the Prince’s request. Depending on what he saw he might put young Latham’s name up instead. The fellow knew how to handle a horse and would do a fine job. In winning, Latham would save his friend Annabel, a far worthier cause than Geoffrey attempting to have Charlotte for his own, something he now realized would never happen.

  She was determined to remain an independent woman, had more or less said so only a few moments before she had run from the room, and who could blame her after what she had suffered in the last years before Giles had rescued her. Turning the conversation from Olivia and Coalport to his own selfish needs had only reinforced what Charlotte already believed. Men thought only of their own passions and wants, and he had proved to her that she was correct in that belief. />
  He cursed himself for a fool as he thought of ways to make the situation better. He would maybe ask Charlotte if he could ride Lightning in the steeplechase. Not to win, that would be left for Latham to take the glory, but it would be a step up for their stables if he could come second on his first attempt in the race on one of their own horses. And it would be a step up for him too. His first active role to gain them more trade, a way to make his own money and his way in life. A way to build respect where he deserved it, and to keep that of his friends.

  He rinsed out their cups before he walked from the kitchen with a much clearer head and a far better feeling in his gut. He had a plan of action that would raise his well-being and his status. Something he should have thought about years ago instead of wallowing in his own self-pity at what he wanted but couldn’t have.

  He climbed the stairs and turned the corridor but quickly stepped back into the shadows as a male form suddenly appeared coming out of the Duchess’ room. Coalport’s shirttails flapped briefly as he turned back to the still open portal and kissed the woman inside passionately before walking quickly along the corridor and disappearing up another flight of stairs.

  Geoffrey heard Olivia’s door click closed. He crept along the hallway and smiled as he heard gentle, happy singing coming from her room. At least love was in the air for someone.

  Chapter Seven