“Marriage? Simple?” Now Emmeline gave a crooked smile.
Elias did not smile back, but one eyebrow lifted. “You say that in the tone of voice used by older cousins toward putrid younger cousins.”
She laughed, but could not deny it. “I have been beastly sometimes to you in the past, haven’t I?”
“You have.”
She lifted her shoulders and spread her hands, palms upward, and said, “I suppose an apology would not wipe the slate clean?”
“It would not. But if you offered to help me, that would do the trick.”
“Help you? In what way?”
“I think Geoffrey and Alessandra must be assisted, if they cannot find their way on their own.”
“I am very leery of interfering in Lessie’s concerns—” she started to protest.
“All I want is that you should observe. See what happens. Perhaps we’ll find they need a little help. And aught we not be there for them?”
“Perhaps…”
“Come, only if they need our help. Will you do it?”
“I…think you might be right, you rapscallion. I think they may need a push or two, poor darlings.”
“Exactly.”
“That you, the cousin I remember as being irrepressible, agree with me, makes me very nervous.”
Elias grinned. “I should have been a knight, or a Robin Hood, for I do so enjoy coming to people’s rescue.”
“Even those who do not want it?”
“Especially those who do not want it, but need it.”
“Recall that Robin Hood went to prison for his crimes.”
“Recall that he did not stay there.”
She laughed again, giving up the fight, for there was not and never had been a hope of winning an argument with Elias.
***
“My dearest. Would you care for tea, or perhaps coffee?” Lady Chenmarth greeted her son. She had not waited for him to be shown into her parlor, but rather had come out to the hall to take up his arm and tuck her own around it. As she led him to a parlor brightly lit by noonday sun, he mumbled he didn’t care for a drink.
“Mama, you sent me a note,” he said, cutting to the issue at once the minute the door was closed behind them. “I hope this is not to upbraid me for some failing?”
“Honestly,” she said, shaking her head, and he thought she stifled a sigh as she sat before a table already set with tea and biscuits. “You and Elias make me out to be naught but a harpy, always scolding and disapproving.”
If we saw more of you, perhaps we’d see another side? Geoffrey did not utter the thought aloud, though, because now that he was an adult wasn’t it as much his fault as hers that he seldom saw her? What does Alessandra make of you, Mama? I only know she does not care to live with you.
“My dear, I merely wish to proffer this home to you and Alessandra. I cannot think she would care to remove to Chenmarth Hall in Kent while the season yet holds, and I know you have nowhere else suitable in town.”
Geoffrey sat on the chintz-covered chair to her left, taken by surprise that his very thought had been converted into an offer. “Here with you?”
Mama visibly put aside a spark of resentment his rude question had generated by folding her hands together in her lap. “I would take the rooms near Hyde Park,” she said calmly.
“I…well, that is a dashed decent offer, Mama. But, what if in a few months Alessandra wishes to separate? I would not want to put you out of your home and then—”
“I could always return. That is no real impediment.” Any lingering resentment on her part altered into a look of disquiet. “Surely she hasn’t already given you reason to be concerned the marriage is hopeless?”
“No-o-o,” he said, but even he could hear the word had stretched out a bit too long.
“Geoffrey! You’ve given her pause in two days? Good heavens, what have you been doing? Have you taken into account how young she is? That you must go about things with delicacy and lacking haste and—”
He stood, face tight, hands clasping behind his back as he began to pace. “Unkind, madam! I’ve done nothing to alarm the girl. In point of fact, we haven’t even shared a bed.” A partial lie. And am I flushed with color again? Is that twice in as many days? But who speaks of such matters with one’s mother?
“You haven’t?” Mama looked stunned. “Is she so timid a creature?”
“No. Yes,” he said, then shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“You’ll never know whether the two of you suit or not if you never…,” Mama let the sentence dangle.
“Her father…”
Mama’s features cleared. “Oh, an interfering father-in-law.” She quirked her head. “And an interfering mother.” Was that a moment’s smile?
“Well, I admit all that is vexing,” she went on. She stood, her hands now knit together before her skirts. “We older persons always wish to smooth the way for our children, but the truth is, the way is for you and Alessandra to discover.”
“With that I can agree,” he said crisply.
She gave one nod of her head.
He looked at her straight on, deciding at that moment to be utterly direct. “How did you know you could bear it no longer? With Papa?” Despite the color that drained from her face, he pressed on. “When did you know you couldn’t go on living together? That you didn’t love him?”
“Didn’t love him?” she echoed. She sucked in a breath, and gave a strange, breathless little laugh. “Love…what a word!” She shook her head, and gave Geoffrey a flickering smile that she could not know strangely tore at his heart. “When he moved out of our chambers, it began. When he spent most nights at his club… And the arguments. And then the two of us began going to wholly different events. I rather fancy there were women… I’d see one or the other on his arm…” She trembled. “That was when I knew I must leave him.”
She lifted teary eyes. Geoffrey had expected to see anger, so the tears disconcerted him, especially the plea that was writ in them, a plea for him to understand. “I had to.”
He was silent for several beats of his heart, while he handed her a kerchief as he’d done but three days ago.
“Thank you,” he said, meaning for her honesty, for he was certain she’d held little back but grimy, sadder details never to be shared between mother and son.
He paid her back with honesty of his own. “Between Alessandra and I, Mama,… I don’t like not knowing my own mind. I don’t like not being sure where I want things to—” he started to say “end” but changed it to, “—go.”
“Well then, ask her what’s in her mind, and her heart.”
“Heart?” he repeated, and he felt his face harden from rejection. “There is no ‘heart’ in this matter. We did our duty.”
Storm clouds gathered in her eyes. “Don’t be foolish,” she snapped. “A woman is nothing if not a beating heart. You ought, you must always remember that.”
“Oh, and a man is something else? Something less?” he demanded. “A callous head? An urge? An empty soul perhaps?”
She put back her shoulders, and the storm clouds in her eyes grew heavy with mist. “Sometimes, when he forgets to be kind.”
He’d meant to glare harder at her—but the fire had been swept from her face and her words, leaving behind only teetering tears. He already regretted the tone he’d fallen into, and to continue it would have been like slapping a pup off the furnishings.
Instead he gave her a quick bow. “You will excuse me. I will leave you now. I have an appointment to see Father’s barristers, and I shall be nearly late as it is.”
“Yes.” She made an effort to rally a semblance of peace between them via a smile, but then her hand shot out and caught his sleeve. “Geoffrey, please know that all I want for you is to be happy.”
A vision of the bed with the pillows down the middle formed in his mind, but he quickly pushed it aside. “Of course.” He flashed her a forced smile, softened, he hoped, by a milder tenor. “And, thank you, Mama. I will ask Alessandra if we wish to accept your kind offer of the house.”
Mama rewarded his choice of words with a smile that was perhaps more true than his had been. “I could be removed from here in a week, perhaps a bit more, once you say.”
He nodded again, and bowed his way out.
As Geoffrey’s horse was led to him outside Mama’s front door, he realized he had mixed feelings on the idea of taking residence in her house. Not so curious, that, given it was the house she had moved to when she’d left his father.
So then, since he himself was unsure, he would leave the choice up to Alessandra. Would she be receptive? It bothered him to think that most bridegrooms would have a better idea how their bride would feel.
Well then, he told himself, time I got to know my bride. The wedding was never the beginning; this matter of where to live must be our starting point.
“Will there be anything else, my lord?” Winters asked that night. He was plainly happier now. All Geoffrey’s clothes and bedchamber things, having been removed from Winters’s room or brought from his master’s chambers at Albany, had today found a home here in the Sapphire Room.
“No, that will be all,” Geoffrey said from where he sat before the fire, Alessandra opposite.
“Very good, my lord. My lady, good evening.” Winters gave her a bow, and then one to Geoffrey. “Good evening, my lord.”
“Good evening, Winters. Don’t forget that new shaving soap I want to try in the morning.”
The valet acknowledged this with another bow, and left, closing the door quietly behind him.
As soon as the servant was gone, Alessandra drew up her legs, tucking them under her nightrail where she perched on the seat of her chair, a paisley shawl pulled across her shoulders. She held a fan of cards in her left hand. Geoffrey looked through the candlelight at her; her maid had readied her for bed, currently lacking the nightcap over her plaits. She was undeniably fetching, the low light slanting to make the most of lashes, cheekbones, and delicate chin.
Unbidden, the thought of a center pillow on the bed rose again in his mind.
He shook his head, and his shoulders followed, as if a chill had taken him. He thought to drag the counterpane from the bed once more, but the evening’s chill was less than it had been as June advanced, and his dressing robe and the nearness to the fire beat it back for now.
“So, Alessandra, tell me what you think of the redoubtable Winters.”
“Redoubtable? I did not realize. I must remember to be in awe of him,” she said, grinning.
“You must. I could never dress without him, and there are others who would steal him away if they could. But none shall have him, for they do not know the secret is that one must pay Winters in the pure coinage—even as I do—of nothing less than Reverence.” Three days married, and we sit bantering, not eight feet from the bed.
“Heavens. I should hate for you to walk about clad as a clod, so I shall be properly respectful to your man.” She laid down her cards, and counted out, “Fifteen, two. Fifteen, four. Fifteen, six, and a run makes it nine.” She reached for the board and moved her peg with glee, very near to winning.
Geoffrey scowled at the cribbage board and then at her cards. “Where is the third fifteen?” he challenged.
She moved three of her cards next to the starter card.
“Huh,” he grunted as he acknowledged the combination.
“Anyway, allow me to return to the plans for the supper party. Mama says we are to dine formally, and that will be followed by dancing. I tried to talk her ‘round to an alfresco luncheon, but she would hear nothing of the kind. She says that since we had no parties beforehand this one must be very grand and overdone.”
“I’m sure she knows best,” Geoffrey murmured, laying down his hand. “Fifteen, two. Fifteen, four. And a pair is six.” He moved his peg, then scooped up his crib hand. “Nothing! My crib was robbed,” he said in congenial disgust, turning over the cards so that she could see them.
“Worse luck,” she sympathized as she picked up the loose cards and the bulk of the deck and shuffled them.
He sat in his jacket, his elbow propped against the arm of the chair, his head resting in his hand as he stared into the fire. He watched the flickering flames, not as interested in the game as he pretended.
***
“Geoffrey?” Alessandra prompted three or four minutes later.
He’d sat still, head in hand, contemplative, but now he looked her way. “Hmm?”
“Your cards.” She made a small motion toward his cards lying face down on the table. He made no move to pick them up.
“I went to call on Mama.” He shifted in his seat, as though uncomfortable, or as if he’d spoken when he hadn’t meant to. Either way, now he decided to go on. “She has offered to leave her Grosvenor Square house and let us have it. She would remove to another family property a brief walk away.”
“Oh!” She was taken by surprise. Had she ever been there, as a child? Not that she could recall. “Would it be suitable?” A blush warmed her cheeks, because she wasn’t quite sure what “suitable” meant for them.
“Oh, eminently,” he assured her. “I daresay it’s rather smart. Too many windows across the frontage, so the window tax is appallingly high, but it allows for excellent light within. There is a bounty of rooms both for servants and for a growing family…”
The silence that fell was stark, and made her glad it was hard to see blushes in firelight. I cannot fault him for wondering if he and I will ever have children—I am wondering it, too. Every day.
He lifted his shoulders and let them resettle, tilting his head in question. “Ought we accept Mama’s offer?”
“Yes,” she said tentatively. She could not like his mother being too near, she thought, but having a home of their own—away from Papa and his schemes... “Yes,” she said more firmly.
Geoffrey ran a hand over his face, and nodded. “I agree. I’ll tell her soon. She says she needs a week or so to move her things. I daresay she won’t take all the furniture. We won’t have to acquire much.”
That was a trifle disappointing, the new bride in Alessandra noted, but she nodded with more enthusiasm than she felt.
The silence returned as she scooped all the cards back into one pile. The game was finished for the night.
“But, the thing is, while I was there,” Geoffrey said, his eyes directed at the fire but looking inward. There was a long hesitation, but she saw him decide to continue. “While I was at Mama’s, I saw something. It was there for only a moment or two.” He lifted fingers curled to a point, as if he’d caught a small something between them. “Yet I would swear I saw it. I swear I heard it in her voice.”
She did not want to interrupt his reverie. She said nothing, only giving him a tiny encouraging nod, even though he did not look her way.
His hand fell, and he shook his head, a man amazed. “I saw, in her eyes, that perhaps she had loved him.”
He looked up then, reverie broken and dark eyes glittering from the light of the coals on the grate. “My mother. I never knew there might have been a time that she loved my father. When I was old enough to notice how they dealt with one another, there was only strife, always.”
He rose and looked as if he would pace, but instead he turned to Alessandra. “I rather feel as if perhaps a part of her loves him yet.” He stared, seemed to recall to whom he spoke, and gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “But that is folly, isn’t it?” he said to her.
“Is it?”
He shook his head, then again, harder, and even in the firelight she could see there was a flush on his cheeks. “You must forgive me. It was nothing. It matters not…”
What could she say? That she thought it mattered? That he was too quick to dismiss the possibility of love? That his opinion of what he thought he’d seen did not bode well for any hopes of eventual affection she carried?
The silence went on too long, and when it broke, he surprised her, lifting his head almost as though in alarm. “I’ve never given you any pin money!”
It was her turn to look away. Where had that thought come from? Were they so estranged already that he had to radically change the subject to avoid any hint of intimacy or fellow feeling? Was she not worthy of hearing his speculations?
Now he did pace. “Three days married, and I’ve offered you nothing.” He dashed a glance her way. “And I’ve taken you nowhere! Any other man would be escorting you all about town.”
She noticed he did not add “and showing off his good fortune”…but now her resentment became confused. Was he changing the subject? Ranting? Or was this a real acknowledgement of a lack on his part?
“But I shall remedy this at once. How much do you think you would need for pin money?”
It was her right to receive pin money from her husband, but she had to fight an impulse to refuse money from what she was afraid was a reluctant, unromantic hand. His eager look pushed her.
“A pound a week?” she suggested. That’s what Papa had allowed each of his females, with the possibility of batting one’s eyes and talking him into funding the occasional treat above and beyond.
“Nonsense. Make it twenty.”
“Twenty pounds per week! That’s too much.” She could rent a country cottage for almost half a year on what he suggested as one week’s allowance.
“Twenty. I’ll not agree to any less.”
His pacing had stopped. He moved to lean his forearms on the back of the chair opposite hers, folding his hands together. “If you require more, you have but to ask. I happen to know my father sends my mother a hundred pounds a month. We are not so well-appointed as to copy him in that, but you must feel free to come to me and ask after your needs.”
“A…a hundred pounds per month?” It was a staggering sum.
“And he supports the cost of her household.” Geoffrey seemed stunned for a moment himself. “He told me once that she was the type of woman who must be well-kept.” She saw a question float across his face, but he quickly shrugged it off. “So then, we, the newlyweds, must be seen. May I see to arranging some outings?”
“Yes,” she said, hiding once again behind the relative safety of lowered eyes. After all, however or not their marriage advanced, she had come with her parents to London to enjoy the season, so why shouldn’t her spirits lift at the thought of doing so?
“And a little sightseeing might be fitting as well. Have you ever been to St. Paul’s?”
“Oh, yes. When I was fifteen Miss Parker took me and a whole party of girls there. It is most wonderful.”
“I have not toured it. You must be my guide.”
“I would like that,” she said, forcing herself to raise her eyes again to meet his. Are we making forward progress? Beginning to act as a married couple ought?
Or maybe she’d been too quick to think it. She had to question any claim on growing intimacy when the pillow remained between them once they’d crawled into bed, Geoffrey planted on one side, she on the other.
***
Alessandra awoke later that night, most suddenly.
Geoffrey’s leg was pressed up against hers, warm and firm and alien. Neither his nightshirt nor her nightrail interfered. It was his bare flesh against hers.
She cautiously moved her leg away. Geoffrey did not awaken at the change.
She again did not disturb him, fortunately, when she changed her mind and let her leg slide back against his for the remainder of the night.