Chapter Sixteen

The next morning Lord Geoffrey breakfasted first, then awaited Carleton and Angelique. He had taken the last bite of toast when his butler announced Lord Carleton’s carriage had arrived. Neville handed him his things and he departed. Geoffrey entered the conveyance and gave her a genuine smile.

“My lady, you are resplendent. It is hard to believe you need a French modiste.”

“You are still a flatterer, your Grace. However, I do like compliments. I know your fashion sense will be an inspiration to the dressmaker.”

The carriage arrived on fashionable Bond Street. The driver parked near the store, went round to the passenger side, and then pulled out the steps so they could descend. Geoffrey alighted first and held his hand to Lady Angelique to assist her. Lord Carleton followed.

When they entered the stylish shop, the proprietress Mademoiselle Melisande greeted them. “Good morning.” She curtsied.

Geoffrey noted her dark hair did not resemble Lady Serena’s—the curls weren’t natural.

Angelique introduced Geoffrey. “Your Grace, it is a pleasure to have you honor my salon.”

Mademoiselle Melisande escorted them to a private room.

“I am anxious to see your fashions,” Geoffrey declared, quite comfortable in the room, which had armoires along one wall overflowing with glittering gowns.

“My model will show you a gown Lady Angelique favored.” The owner clapped her hands and a beautiful blonde appeared wearing a deep teal raw silk gown. Soon after, she was dismissed. “Shall I continue?” asked Mademoiselle Melisande.

“Merci, c’est magnifique,” Lord Geoffrey stated. “Avez-vous des robes correspondre a la coloration de Mademoiselle Angelique, en rouge ou en rose?” He turned to Lord Carleton. “I inquired if she had any gowns in rouge or red because of Angelique’s coloring.”

The seamstress went to one of the armoires and took out a dark red organza gown with seed pearls sewn into the bodice. Again, the décolletage enhanced a low-cut bodice. “The style is French empire made famous by Napoleon’s Josephine.” She held it up for them to inspect.

“May we see the model in it?” Lord Geoffrey requested.

Within minutes, the model returned. The sheer fabric revealed an undergarment that hugged the body and displayed every curve.

“I rather like the style. The organza shows enough to entice, yet it’s not lewd. What do you think, Carleton? Would you like to see your lady in it?”

“Yes.” He wet his lips.

“Before it is fitted to her, should you purchase Angelique some lingerie? A week or so ago, I saw a memorable creation that fell apart with a snap of the finger.” Again Lord Geoffrey thought of Serena and how she looked their last night together in her flimsy goddess-style nightgown. How he missed the sight of her.

“Mademoiselle Melisande, avec-vous des suggestions pour decadentes lingerie?”

“Lord Carleton, your friend has asked if I have any suggestions for decadent lingerie? He must have read my mind.” She raised her eyebrows, “I have a new selection just in from Paris, the city of lights and love.”

“Thank you.” Carleton laughed. “My mouth waters at the thought.”

“So did mine when I saw it on my lady.” Geoffrey gave a sly grin.

A seamstress led Lady Angelique to another room where she could be fitted, and Lord Carleton joked, “Remind me not to invite you to shop with me again. I am sure this will cost me a small fortune.”

“Indeed it should, Carleton. It will teach you not to invent ploys to match me with all the dark-haired ladies in London.” Geoffrey laughed and shook a finger at his friend. “I almost envy you when Angelique wears her new lingerie to entice you. The money is a small amount if it pleases her, and makes you amorous and devilish as well. Enjoy the moment. They fleet away like snow on a sunny morning.”

Lord Carleton happily purchased a day gown, evening wear and bed lingerie.

When they left with their packages ensconced in the coach, they proceeded to a small hotel that catered to the elite. There they indulged in tea and a seafood lunch with fresh baked scones and marzipan.

“Geoffrey, what did you think of Mademoiselle Melisande?” Carleton winked at his friend. “Is she not beautiful?”

“It appears to me she is a talented woman with a keen business sense, and she is smart enough to employ the best seamstresses. I cannot remember our whole conversation, but she mentioned the designs were created by her.”

“Carleton, dear. I am going to excuse myself and visit the confectioneries, while you and Geoffrey dissect Mademoiselle Melisande’s virtues.”

“We shall not chat on the subject for long. I promise, my sweet. I only attempt to show Geoffrey what is available to him right here in London.” Carleton gave Angelique a kiss on the cheek. “Run along, but don’t tarry too long.”

“I do take it, while you admire Melisande, she isn’t your type?” Carleton asked.

“You are correct. I do believe I am smitten with someone else.”

“You are headed into dangerous territory, Geoffrey. Give it some time to see if you feel the same way in a week or so.”

“I intend to. Two things occur to me. I cater not to ultimatums, though she asked for a commitment and did not demand anything else. Marriage frightens me. I saw what happened to my father.”

Geoffrey pulled at the right cuff on his coat to ease out the fabric. Then he pulled on his other cuff. “I have always wanted to be a man like my father—well-respected for his acumen and good deeds to family and friends. I believe I can do that without love and marriage.”

He fingered his kid gloves. “There exists in my heart a loss of her, but perhaps it will pass. We didn’t have much time together. Is it possible I was only caught up in the moment, and the after-glow will diminish?” He wrinkled his forehead. “Serena did make a request of me just before I left.”

“I’m curious. How much did it cost you?” asked Lord Carleton, a simple smile on his face.

“She asked if I could leave a piece of my clothing so my essence might remain with her. I could not bear to say goodbye to her, so after she fell asleep, I sneaked out of her studio like a thief.”

“If all you say is true, you should be glad you did.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Geoffrey whispered and leaned toward his friend. “Have you any current news of the Secret Order of Mortal Saints?” He turned to make sure no one overheard the reference to the covert group they both worked for in the name of England’s Defence Ministry.

“No, Lord Cedric visited the other day at White’s, but made no mention of a need for our skills.”

Angelique returned with a box of confections, and they spoke no more of the Saints.

“Something for me to nibble on later, my dear?”

“Mince pasties…and more, Carleton.” Angelique batted her lashes.

They departed the restaurant and gave instructions to the driver. Lord Geoffrey donned his top hat, disembarked, and waved good-bye. Neville waited for him in the foyer.

“Your Grace, your mother awaits you in the sitting room.”

“God’s blood. What now? She will not leave me alone.” He walked in haste to where she waited.

“Madam, you look well.” He nodded, his voice cool. He stood tall in the hope it would intimidate her.

“Is that how you greet me when you have not seen me in months?”

“Come, Mother, do not be melodramatic. My distance from you is because you refuse to mind your own business and stop your efforts to find me a Duchess. I will find my own future lady. You know nothing of my preferences.” He placed his arms behind his back.

“What you say is true, but your father would want you to wed a fine lady who will make a grand Duchess.”

“My father would want me to marry a lady I could not live without regardless of who she was—or was not.”

“Geoffrey, you would not consider a commoner, would you? It would be the disgrace of the ton and scandalize the family name.” She removed a handkerchief from her silk reticule.

“By all means, I should exercise care not to scandalize the family name since it would affect your patronage by them.”

“Your voice is as cold as steel,” she whispered, sniffling into the hankie. “I know what the ton says about you. It is difficult enough to find suitable debutantes when your reputation as a rogue follows you everywhere. Can you not be more discreet?”

“Madam, you should not believe everything you hear. I am told I am the soul of discretion.”

She shook her head. “I need to know if you can make yourself available one evening next week for a soiree at my home where there will be a select number of young ladies present for you to inspect.” She arose and put on her gloves. “Send me word which evening you prefer and I will arrange all.”

He heard no sign of emotion in her voice. Her tone was always the same, in perfect cadence like the hoof beats of synchronized horses on a well-trodden road. He noted her face looked like porcelain stone—and just as cold.

“Madam, what part of the word, No, do you not understand?” His ire rose. “I may have to leave in a few days. Therefore, if I were you, I would not plan your event too soon.”

“Duke or no, you are rude, Geoffrey.” She brushed by him in a huff and departed the room.

Geoffrey went to his study, stood in front of his father’s portrait. “How did you stand it all those years? Is love blind? If so, I want no part of it. No part at all. No part at all.” He slammed his fist on the desk and the papers jumped.

In the evening, Geoffrey joined Carleton and Angelique at the theater to see the woman considered to be the latest rage. They sat in Lord Carleton’s box in amiable companionship.

“Whoever created this play should be tarred and feathered,” Geoffrey announced. “The acting leaves much to be desired. Has all of London lost its mind, or are they bored out of their heads and stoop to embrace such mediocrity?”

He was shushed by several attendees nearby.

The Duke simply glared at them with dismissal. They turned away from his imperious gaze.

Lord Carleton smiled but made no comment.

After enduring three full acts, they went to an after the play party and were able to meet the actors. The female lead—the woman everyone raved about—came up to Geoffrey and engaged him in conversation. “My name is Jenny Gladstone.” She batted her lashes and bit her too red lips.

He took an immediate dislike to the overly painted woman. “I am Lord Geoffrey Austen, the Duke of Sutton.” His superior voice dismissed her and he turned to leave.

“I know who you are. You’re a rogue and libertine.”

Perhaps she thought this approach would be coy, but it only infuriated him. He faced her. “Miss Gladstone, do you make it a habit to insult the nobility because you are not part of it, or because you do not know any better? Tell me, do you practice being obnoxious?”

Her eyes widened, her voice shook in defiance, “I’ve been insulted by better men than you.” She grabbed a drink from the tray of a passing waiter, and gulped.

“I doubt that, but if you are tempted to throw the contents of your drink at me, I would suggest it a waste of cheap champagne—to match your mediocre acting. Excuse me.” He left her with her face aflame.

Afterward, Geoffrey realized the wrong he’d committed. Her only offense being she wasn’t Serena. He found his friends, told them he suffered an upset stomach, and then left the party to hail a hackney cab.

Geoffrey arrived at his townhouse after midnight and went straight to his chambers. His valet had laid out his bed attire. He appreciated the fire’s warmth and glow after time in London’s fog. However, what he wanted most was to be somewhere else with a certain raven-haired beauty.

He made a momentous decision as he warmed by the fire. He had made commitments for the next day, but the evening was free to do as he pleased. Geoffrey would surprise Serena with a visit to her lakeside retreat at midnight. That could pose a problem since he would have to rent a horse in the village and ride across the estate grounds without Henry’s awareness.

“I can—I will do it. I must see her again. It is torture without her.”

He welcomed sleep, as it would make the hours pass faster. Soon he would be with his lady again.

The day began in a flurry as Geoffrey rushed to accomplish his chores. He left instructions with Neville that he wished no one to be aware at his leave taking.

His majordomo nodded. “If anyone asks, I shall say you are at your club with friends.”

“That includes my mother. Should she ask, simply tell her I left you no information.

“Understood, your Grace.”

Geoffrey departed his residence about eight in the evening; his coach left him at the village before eleven-thirty where he hired a sturdy horse.

Excited by the anticipation of holding Serena in his arms, he rode like the wind. The moon shone on the lake like dancing fairies. It was a few minutes before midnight when he slid from the saddle and tied the reins to a tree in the shadows. He squatted on one knee and waited.

“Will she come?”