A Gallant Gamble (5 page)

He nodded at each of the staff in turn, as Bottomley’s wife introduced them to the household staff. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as each bobbed him a curtsey or gave a bow, but a quick press of Charlotte’s gloved fingers on his arm told him to say nothing of his disquiet at the gesture. There were more servants than he thought necessary, but he soon realized that with all the added entertaining a London season required, the Duchess would have hired extra staff.

Mrs. Bottomley finished the introductions and stood smiling as she waited by the stairs.

“I must say, Mr. Talbot, that it’s a pleasure to meet you at last. Master Alexander has told us much about you, and some of us remember your father with great respect. He was a decent and well liked man and we were all sorry to hear of his demise. Please accept our belated condolences.” Geoffrey gulped with sudden and unexpected emotion. Though he had known that his father had sometimes travelled with the old Duke, it had never occurred to Geoffrey that the London household would remember his father, let alone mention him.

His throat tightened at the kind thoughts and he nodded an acknowledgement to the woman then stood silently observing the vast entrance hall of Alexander’s London home while she continued speaking to Charlotte.

A splendid crystal chandelier, lit by what looked like a hundred candles, drooped elegantly from the ceiling above his head, its sparkling glass droplets sending shimmers of light in every direction. Silk covered chairs lined the walls and through each of the two doors leading immediately from the hallway, he noticed yards of rich silk cascading at the windows. Polished floor tiles gleamed beneath his feet and a ten-foot high mirror situated opposite the wide staircase reflected the astonishment evident on his own face.

He’d had no idea that Alexander owned such a magnificent house. Having only ever lived at Ormond he had not realized how lavish the London property could be. On the occasions that Alexander had accompanied his father, he had never mentioned anything so grand as this on his return. Ormond was nothing like so extravagant. The stone walls of the ancient castle remained unadorned throughout and the stark severity had only just been lessened these last four years by Lily’s artful ingenuity as Alexander had slowly brought his household income back into riches. It was clear that this London home had been decorated by his parents to a far more luxuriant standard, possibly in an attempt to keep up a pretence of wealth, even though he had been dealing with his first son’s crippling debts and a blackmailer whose relentless demands had brought both men to their early deaths.

Geoffrey’s attention came back to Mrs. Bottomley as he listened to the woman’s last words to Charlotte.

“Lady Charlotte, please ask if there is anything that you might need. The mistress informs me that you didn’t bring your own maid. Louise will be pleased to help you.” A young woman standing just behind her bobbed a curtsey and smiled shyly at Charlotte. Mrs. Bottomley brushed non-existent dirt from her apron before adding. “I will show you up immediately. We’ve laid on a light tea to be taken in your rooms while your baths are made ready. Dinner will be at seven thirty.” She turned and began walking briskly up the stairs.

They passed several doors before stopping near the end of the corridor. Louise bustled inside the bedroom and began to unpack Charlotte’s trunks while Mrs. Bottomley signalled for Geoffrey to follow her. They walked in silence around the corner before she opened a heavily carved door and stood back to let Geoffrey enter the room.

Geoffrey took one step over threshold, stopped dead and stifled a gasp. The bed alone was nearly as big as his room above the stables at Ormond. He almost backed out again before he remembered that he was no longer a servant but acting as an escort for the Duchess and Charlotte. He took a steadying breath before walking towards the huge windows that looked out over an enclosed formal garden that led into what appeared to be a shrubbery and small orchard. The back of the house and an orangery formed two walls of the delightful space. The third appeared to be a high wall between this garden and the next. The rear of the garden darkened into a line of budding trees. He spied a rustic looking summerhouse that was partially covered in creeping plants with dark purple blossoms. With tulips peeping out between other plants in the flower beds, the place looked positively idyllic.

“The view is to be admired,” he said just because he felt he needed to say something to dispel the awkward atmosphere. He heard a clink behind him and turned to see a maid pouring water into a bowl. A cake of soap and a cloth sat beside it.

“For your hands, sir.” Mrs. Bottomley touched the side of the bowl as the maid hurried from the room. “I noticed that you drew out the steps of the carriage. What with your long journey they cannot have been the cleanest and even wearing gloves you might have soiled your hands. We’ll have them and the whole carriage spotless before you take it out again.” She glanced at where his fingers had caught hold of the long drapes at the window.

Geoffrey looked hands and dropped them quickly to his sides when he saw the smears of dirt.

“Of course, thank you.” He gave a curt nod thinking that she would remove herself from the room, but she didn’t. She suddenly walked towards the gargantuan mahogany wardrobe and turned the key.

“Coalport has already unpacked your clothes, sir. It was fortunate that the master thought to send them on last week. I think the ladies trunks took all the room on your carriage today.”

He frowned in confusion. His own small valise with his only suit had been on the carriage with them. It took a moment or two and the opening of the wardrobe door before he realized what the woman was talking about. His eyes widened at the array of jackets, breeches and shirts. He could see an open fronted drawer of starched cravats and another of pressed handkerchiefs. Several pairs of boots lined the bottom of the vast space. The woman opened the other side of the wardrobe to reveal even more evening suits and shoes along with what looked like under garments and several nightshirts. He rolled his eyes at these items thinking of the money Alexander had obviously wasted. Geoffrey always slept in the nude.

He gulped back his amazement and gave the woman another nod of thanks.

“Yes, The Duke is surely the best of men. He thinks of everything.” He fisted his hands. He was going to strangle the man as soon as he saw him. It all made sense now. He’d wondered how one of his sets of clothes and boots had gone missing the month previously. He’d even enquired about them to Grady, Alexander’s own valet, thinking the man might have sent his clothes for laundering by mistake.

He pressed his lips together and fumed at how he had been played for a fool. Alexander and Giles had clearly known that they would have their way. These clothes must have been ordered long before they had asked him to escort the Duchess and Charlotte.

He clamped his jaws together in frustration while his mind whirled at the obvious and colossal expense. A single jackets would cost more than Mrs. Bottomley’s wages for the year and he didn’t even want to imagine the price of the pairs of handmade boots.

He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair and was about to ask the woman to have it all sent back when there was a smart rap on the door and one of the footmen came in with three maids trailing behind him. They all carried buckets of steaming water and quickly disappeared behind a previously unnoticed screen. The sounds of pouring water followed. Two more maids came hurrying in with more buckets followed by another carrying a tray of tea and a plate of delicate looking sandwiches. They all bobbed a curtsey as they left the room quickly followed by the footman and Mrs. Bottomley who turned and closed the doors firmly behind her.

Geoffrey slumped onto the bed in defeat and stared about him. It was all too much. He knew Alexander classed him as a friend, but this extravagance was overwhelming. He stood again and peered into the wardrobe. The light scent of clean linen assaulted his nose and his eyes took in the rail of soft looking shirts. His fingertips touched the linen and confirmed his suspicions. The material was indeed soft. The softest he had ever felt. He lifted a lapel of one of the many jackets. The fabric was of the finest quality and the tiny hand stitching, clearly the work of a master tailor, was almost invisible to the naked eye. He glanced down at his own jacket, shirt and breeches. Although it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, the ensemble had clearly seen better days.

The white of his almost threadbare shirt was more of an off grey and frayed stitching looped in several places on his jacket. The cuffs were worn and faded and one looked as though he’d spilled last night’s onion gravy over it. He lifted his arm and gave a hesitant sniff beneath it. The jacket didn’t smell that fresh either. He didn’t dare look down at his breeches and boots. He knew that they would be travel worn and grimy. He groaned as he realized that he had been introduced to every single one of the staff while he looked more poorly dressed and lowlier than any of them.

Bile began to rise at the humiliation he felt, not so much for himself but for Charlotte. He ignored the tray of food even though his stomach grumbled. Although the breakfast at the inn that morning had been perfectly adequate, his reserves of nourishment had long since been used up, but the need to look the part had suddenly become far more urgent than his rumbling stomach.

Charlotte had come to his rescue in his tussle with the butler. She had taken his arm without thought, on her way into the house. He desperately tried to recall if there had been any neighbours watching the scuffle or if anyone apart from the servants, had seen them mount the steps. He couldn’t countenance the thought of her being embarrassed by him or his inferior apparel. He wanted to kick himself for not considering it in the first place but he had only brought one other change of ordinary clothes and his Sunday suit, stupidly thinking that they would be adequate.

He dragged his jacket from his tired shoulders, loosened the creased cloth tied about his neck before divesting himself of his grubby shirt and shabby breeches. He rubbed his palm over his jaw and, after feeling the rasp of day old stubble, used the water in the bowl, the soap and the blade beside it to shave. He wiped the last of the soap from his chin with a cloth at the side of the dresser and strode around the screen before losing the rest of his clothes and climbing into a bath bigger than any he had ever seen in his life before.

The hot water engulfed him and for a moment he worried that it would slosh over the sides onto the richly woven rug beside it, but his careful movements stopped any accident. He sighed as he slipped lower into the water. Some parts of becoming a temporary gentleman were certainly worth putting up with. His own hipbath at Ormond could barely accommodate him squatting let alone sitting.

He lounged in the heat for several more minutes before thinking about washing himself. Squares of soap lined the side of the huge tub and he sniffed each one before settling on one which smelled less flowery than the rest. He dipped his head into the water before he lathered the tablet between his hands and rubbed the resulting foam into his thick hair before skimming it over his body.

It was only as he lay back to rinse the lather that a voice caused him to sit up with a start. He cast his eyes towards the window and noticed for the first time that it was open more than a few inches. A crystal laugh caught his attention. He’d heard it often enough to know that only Charlotte’s wild sense of humour could sound so much like a cascading waterfall when she found something amusing.

He half stood and leaned out of the bath. He peered through the open window, ducking back immediately as he realized that the windows of her chambers were at a right angle to his own, overlooking the beautiful garden. He caught hold of the drape and moved it across the gap, disguising his hiding place as he watched Charlotte move into view.

She stood framed at the window wearing nothing but her unmentionables with her new maid in the shadows behind her, undoing her hair. Their speech was a mumbled chatter of delicate tones with laughter thrown in as something clearly amused them both. A few seconds later he heard the more imperious tone of Alexander’s mother. The women were probably discussing what they should wear at their evening meal. Geoffrey dropped the curtain and slid back into his bath, all thoughts of Charlotte banished as the thought of choosing from the array in the wardrobe crossed his mind.

Good God! He wouldn’t have a clue! Genuine fear clawed at his stomach at the thought of selecting something from the vast selection in the enormous wardrobe and then facing laughter and derision as his choice was deemed wholly inappropriate. He swallowed hard, scrubbed the last of the soapsuds from his body, and rose from the now tepid water. He grabbed the sheet folded on the chair and quickly dried himself before wrapping it around his waist and striding around the screen to begin the terrifying process of deciding what to wear at dinner.

He froze as he saw that someone had already laid several items of clothing on the bed and was even now pulling extra items from the huge wardrobe. The man turned and beamed at a startled Geoffrey.

“Ah! All done? I’m Coalport, your valet for the duration of your stay. I was going to offer to scrub your back but you seemed to have it all in hand. Now, I think that we will find these items perfect for the informal supper her Ladyship has planned for tonight. Mrs. Bottomley is in a right old tear about it. Thought it was only going to be the three of you but the old Duchess had other plans and has already invited The Lord Latham and his wife, Lord and Lady Armitage, Lady Bowers and her escort Mr. Michaels. Shocking scandal the two of them caused last season but after the goings on discovered in Argyle Street everything seems to have been forgiven. Lord Hubert Carruthers and Sir Anthony Torrington will fill the last two chairs. It’s going to be a merry evening.”