A Gallant Gamble (6 page)

Geoffrey’s eyes widened as the titles and the gossip fell from the man’s lips. He hadn’t a clue what Coalport was going on about and wasn’t about to ask. He nodded towards the clothes already laid out on the bed.

“I think you had best put this lot away and order me a supper up here. I’ll not be going downstairs tonight.” He saw that Coalport had folded a heavy robe over the back of a chair. Geoffrey picked it up and slipped it over his shoulders. He rid himself of the damp drying cloth and moved towards the plate of sandwiches that still sat on the tray. He took one and ate it quickly as he tried to still his rolling stomach.

Coalport shook out a pair of stockings.

“Nonsense! Of course you are going down to dinner. The Duchess warned me that you might attempt to get out of it but she’s adamant that you are here to escort and escorting is exactly what you will be doing. Lady Charlotte is expecting you to accompany her into dinner in less than an hour, so we had best be getting you up to scratch with these garments. I’ve stowed your own travelling case and the clothes that you threw about the floor here in the attic. I don’t think that we’ll be needing any garments of that nature here.” The disdainful sniff that followed his words told Geoffrey just what the older man thought of his simple, country attire that he now realized had disappeared from the room.

He glowered down at the valet, but it seemed that Coalport was not about to be intimidated by anything so simple as an angry glare. Forty years of service for the old Duke and others of the aristocracy had clearly given him enough experience to know that a gentleman’s gentleman knew best. Coalport simply lifted out a pair of polished shoes in which Geoffrey swore he could see his own reflection and placed them on the floor by the bed.

Geoffrey groaned inwardly. It was clear that he had been completely outmanoeuvred. There was simply no fighting it. He ate several more sandwiches, which were actually quite delicious, and gulped back a glass of water before he spoke again.

“But we’ve only just arrived. How can her Grace possibly have arranged all this within the last hour?” he questioned as he grabbed up a comb from the dresser and ran it through his still damp hair.

Coalport stopped on his way towards the bed with a waistcoat so richly embroidered it appeared to be covered with jewels.

“I believe that the Duchess had arranged for cards to be sent last week. I noticed Bottomley carrying a satchel full of them only last Friday. There were a stack of responses and invitations already waiting for her when you arrived. The Duchess has been selecting which to accept for the last hour. I daresay that you will be in for a busy few weeks.” He held up the waistcoat for Geoffrey’s inspection.

Geoffrey groaned miserably as his fingertips touched the fabulous cloth. His rough skin snagged at the fabric and he rolled his eyes as Coalport snatched the garment away, hung it back in the wardrobe and rushed over to the dressing table where a selection of ointments and salves sat in small glass jars. Geoffrey watched suspiciously while Coalport selected two of the containers. The man opened the jars, scooped out a little of each with his fingers and came back to Geoffrey. Without giving him chance to refuse, Coalport grabbed up Geoffrey’s hands and began rubbing the ointment into his rough skin and split cuticles.

Though more than a little surprised at the gesture, Geoffrey immediately felt his work hardened skin softening and he let the man continue as his equanimity lowered even further.

“God help me then. I fear that Alexander and Giles have mistakenly put their faith in me. I am in no position to live up to my task. I will embarrass the ladies and become a laughing stock. It’s too much. They should have realized that I’m not up to it. I’m not genteelly born and I have no experience of London life. Charlotte will be ridiculed due to my crass manners, speech and even the roughness of my skin.” He was so far out of his depth that he felt as though he was drowning.

Coalport smiled encouragingly as he suddenly began pressing a shaped orange-stick against the base of his nails. After doing the same on each finger, he changed tool and began swiping a small metal rasp across the tops of Geoffrey’s nails.

“Not at all. Your speech is fine if a little accented, but no one will call you out for that and your mannerisms so far, have been impeccable. Your hands are only rough from exposure to the elements and hard riding, I would assume, but we can soon make improvements.” He admired his own handiwork as he continued to file Geoffrey’s nails. “Just be yourself and all will be well. The Duchess tends to take over anyway so I expect that nodding and agreeing with her might be all you have to do tonight. Lord Carruthers and Anthony Torrington are new to town themselves, so you will be in good company. The Lathams come from old money and can be a little disapproving, but they are old friends of the Duchess. I imagine that Her Grace is eyeing their son for Lady Charlotte.”

Geoffrey snatched in a deep breath and narrowed his eyes as he hissed.

“Over my dead body! If that bastard steps within a hundred yards of her I’ll run him through.”

Coalport swapped the file for a buffer as he raised an interested eyebrow.

“Ah, so the rumours are true. I had heard that he had become a rake. There was an unfortunate incident at the Bellingham’s dinner party last year and talk of a forced match, but the Lathams apparently dismissed the affair as a devious attempt by the Bellingham’s untitled daughter to entrap their son. According to Jim Forbes, the young Latham’s valet, money exchanged hands, not that that helped with the girl’s reputation. She’s a great beauty and was the talk of the season, but after the incident I believe the young woman was sent to live with her aunt in the country. The Bellinghams attended only the smallest events afterwards, but even though they are now considerably more affluent, they have barely recovered from the scandal. Distressing affair for all concerned, I would imagine.” He took a last inspection of Geoffrey’s hands before he sat back from his task and smiled in satisfaction.

Geoffrey rubbed the tips of his fingers together before bringing them to his cheek to confirm that they were now smooth and slightly softened. His nails were even and buffed to a healthy sheen. It was a vast improvement accomplished in only a few moments and he smiled at Coalport in gratitude before he took a set of undergarments from the valets now outstretched hand and began pulling them on.

“Nothing that man has done would surprise me. I can’t believe that Oliv...I mean, the Duchess has invited his parents to dinner here. Alexander must have warned her off the family. She knows that Giles will never allow a match with the vile pig.” Geoffrey was past caring about abusing the Latham’s son’s name.

Coalport passed him an undershirt.

“The Lathams are rich beyond most people’s wildest dreams. That could take the edge off any misgivings Lord Caithwell might have. I hear that Lord Latham doesn’t enjoy good health and assume that the son will inherit a small fortune before too long. I daresay that Lord Caithwell would like the best match for his ward.

Geoffrey snorted in derision.

“Latham would be the second worst choice for her next to that other debauchee, Lord Rookwood. Charl...I mean Lady Charlotte could do far better than either of them, and fortunately she is not in need of a fortune. She has one of her own.” He thought of the huge, pink diamond that he suspected she carried somewhere about her person. He knew that she wanted to find a buyer for it to enable her to claim a real stake in the Ormond and Caithwell stables. He frowned as he wondered how she might approach the transaction. With bravado and enthusiasm as usual, he imagined, but he would have to take a look at the places Alexander had advised before she parted with the stone priceless stone. He didn’t want her sneaking off alone into the more insalubrious areas of London where he might not be able to protect her adequately or where she would find herself at the wrong end of a bad bargain.

Another thought crossed his mind. Perhaps Charlotte had mentioned the huge jewel to Olivia. The Lathams were probably one of the few families that might be able to afford such a prize. Bile rose in his throat as he imagined Charlotte in close negotiations with young Latham. He couldn’t allow it to happen. He’d have to talk to her about it as soon as possible.

He closed his eyes at that thought. All the avoidance he had been practicing had been for nothing. He knew that she wouldn’t let the diamond out of her sight and that meant that he would be accompanying her even more closely, probably alone if he guessed rightly that Charlotte would want to be discreet about selling the stone.

Coalport stood in front of him again, shirt in hand this time. Geoffrey dropped the robe from his shoulders and pulled the deliciously soft linen over his head. The material slipped over his clean skin and he almost groaned in satisfaction at the feel of it. The breeches fit like a glove, hugging his thighs and the boots felt as soft as sheepskin slippers. He declined the embroidered waistcoat for something a little less decorative and waited patiently while Coalport folded the most complicated cravat that he had ever seen.

A deep blue superfine evening coat finished the ensemble. It fit his shoulders as if it had been painted onto his body, but didn’t feel in the least constricting and at Coalport’s satisfied nod, he checked himself in the mirror. He blinked in surprise and almost looked over his own shoulder as he tried to spot himself in the reflection. The transformation was so incredible that he barely recognized himself. He looked as fine as any gentleman he had ever set eyes upon. Even his hair looked thicker and shinier than usual as it fell to his collar in dark, gleaming waves.

Coalport gave a last brush of his hands over the jacket shoulders and stepped back again.

“Spectacular, even though I say it myself. I’ve dressed some of the best men in the country during my years of service, but you Sir, you have eclipsed them all.” The pride in Coalport’s expression was unmistakeable. He pushed Geoffrey towards the door. “The ladies will be all a twitter within the hour and half of London will want to know you by luncheon tomorrow. Get along with you. The salon is downstairs on the right. I believe that the ladies will be down in ten minutes. It’s always a good idea to arrive before them. If Bottomley isn’t already in there, help yourself to the brandy. There will be some sherry or wine there too. The Duchess always used to take sherry before dining and I don’t suppose much has changed. Pour it like you own it. Remember that as far as everyone is concerned, you are the gentleman of the house in Master Alexander’s stead. Don’t let anyone try and convince you otherwise. Titles don’t mean that a person is your better, the Duke of Ormond and his friend, Lord Caithwell excepted, of course.”

Geoffrey eyed the man in the mirror, took in a breath and straightened his shoulders. With a last grin at Coalport he strode from the room and quickly down the stairs to the salon.

Chapter Four

Indiscretion and Innuendoes

Charlotte looked blankly at the grey haired man beside her. He had spoken at length but she hadn’t heard a word, so mesmerized was she at the sight of Geoffrey Talbot as he sipped his wine opposite her. Her companion cleared his throat and stared at her expectantly. She felt heat rising into her cheeks.

“I beg your pardon, Lord Armitage. I must be tired from all the travelling. I don’t appear to be able to concentrate this evening.” The excuse was a lame one and she hoped that the man wouldn’t think her the worst kind of ninny.

At the head of the table, Olivia broke in as she inclined her head and spoke softly to Lord Armitage.

“It’s my fault entirely. I talked my Charlotte’s ears off last night before we slept and while I dozed in the carriage today, I know that this young lady was awake and seeing to my comfort. Such a kind girl. I felt the wrap slip from my knees several times but it was only seconds before she tucked me in again. We appear to be having inclement weather for this time of year.”

Lord Armitage nodded, not the least bit offended by Charlotte’s apparent lapse.

“Spring is turning out to be a long one. Devil only knows what’s happening at my estate. I can see why Lord Caithwell has remained at home to supervise his lambing. Can’t imagine how far behind the crops might be...don’t even want to think of it actually. Constant worry what with the memories of the shortages only a few years ago. I was reminding my wife only the other day...”

Charlotte lost track of his conversation again as she glanced back at Geoffrey only to spot him tearing his gaze away from her and nodding slowly in response to something Lady Latham had said to him. Her unruly heart drummed out an uneven beat and her hand trembled as she stabbed a morsel of duck with her fork.

She had walked into the salon only an hour before and had been struck dumb at the sight of the god like figure in front of her. She knew that it was Geoffrey of course, but the transformation in him was so alarming that she found she could barely open her mouth to speak. The sight of him dressed in the finest garments had been so surprising that she had felt her knees actually quake beneath the layers of her silk skirts. While she already knew that Geoffrey had more than enough enviable qualities, the old adage that clothes didn’t maketh the man was now firmly swept out of the window. They clearly made this man.

He had taken her hand in his and she had noticed his gleaming nails as he raised her fingers to his lips. The heat of his breath had brushed over the fine fabric of her gloves and the smoulder in his steady silver gaze had burned her as if she stood at the centre of a flaming pyre. It was fortunate that the Duchess had appeared only seconds later, for Charlotte was sure that she was about to turn into a molten puddle right in front of him.

His eyes remained trained on her deep décolletage for just a moment too long and she felt a flush of apprehension bloom in her cheeks as his eyes flicked back to hers. She had taken Olivia’s advice on her choice of dress for the evening, though she had felt far too exposed by the cut of the gown. In her dressing-room she had tried to cover some of her ample charms with a fine lace shawl, but the Duchess had dismissed the material instantly, insisting that it drew even more attention to the exposed area rather than concealing it. Charlotte had seen a slight clenching of Geoffrey’s jaw before the arrival of more guests had interrupted any remark or observance he might have made about her gown. He had remained nearly silent, responding with stiff politeness to introductions and only answering direct questions ever since.

Now he picked up his wineglass and sipped the garnet coloured liquid as he inclined his head towards the dazzlingly beautiful Lady Armitage on his left while looking through hooded eyes at Lord Hubert Carruthers, who attracted Charlotte’s attention from her right. Geoffrey’s silver eyes darkened to iron grey as the young Lord leaned even further to his left and dropped his gaze downwards.

Lady Armitage gasped as the stem of Geoffrey’s glass suddenly snapped between his fingertips and the last of the red wine splashed across the table, narrowly avoiding marring the dove grey gown of Lady Latham. Embarrassment suffused his features as he pushed his chair back, grabbed up his napkin and began sponging the tablecloth while the Duchess called for Bottomley to replace Geoffrey’s glass. Furious with himself he glanced towards Charlotte, dreading her censure but her eyes only bid him to stop fussing with the linen. He immediately dropped his napkin and sat back down.

Bottomley covered the soiled cloth, removed the broken receptacle, and replaced it with another full glass of wine almost before the guests at the lower end of the table had realized that anything was amiss. Geoffrey lowered his head and cursed his own clumsiness, but Olivia came to his rescue with a bright and unconcerned voice.

“I admire a man with a firm grip. You are clearly a skilled equestrian, Mr. Talbot. Alexander was only telling me last week that he relies on your superior abilities with the more troublesome animals. I understand that Prince Louis has asked for your advice.”

Geoffrey raised a surprised eyebrow. He had no idea who Prince Louis was, but as he glanced around the table, it appeared that no one else did either. He was about to enquire of Olivia who this Prince might be when Charlotte broke in to stop him.

“Olivia, please. I told you that in confidence. The Prince would be unhappy if it were known that his own skills could be called into question.”

Olivia waved a gloved hand.

“Piffle and nonsense. We are all friends here. I only allude to Mr. Talbot’s exceptional skills in such matters and the fact that royalty must take him seriously if they have bothered to enquire about his skills.”

Geoffrey caught on belatedly to what the women were doing and although he appreciated their help in making him seem far more worthy than he actually was, he also began to see pitfalls opening all around him as the two ladies began to spin their tale. While he didn’t particularly want anyone to know that he was merely a lowly stable master in the employ of the Duke of Ormond, he didn’t want to deceive anyone either.

“I thank you for your confidence in my abilities, but I am not sure that any Prince has come to call at Ormond recently. The breeding programme is only just beginning to show results though two mares are in foal at the moment.”

Lord Armitage nodded wisely.

“Good to know that someone takes our horseflesh seriously. Perhaps this Prince came to you incognito. Many of the French aristocracy are still nervous of revealing their ancestry. Unsurprising when you consider the consequences of such an admission in their own country. I suspect that he came to you under an assumed name, but that would be irrelevant to someone such as our dear Olivia here, who knows all the best people on the continent as well as at home.” He bowed to the smiling Duchess before continuing. “You’ll have to come and look at my own stables and cast your eye over a few of my stock. We may be able to come to an arrangement if you see anything that you feel worth a bit of a gamble.”

Lord Latham brushed some crumbs of pastry from his intricately folded cravat as he leaned forwards with interest.

“And mine too, of course. I only keep three matched pairs plus my own and my son’s mounts in London, but if you would care for a visit to view my stables just say the word. I’m sure that Ormond would be keen to increase his stock and I may be able to accommodate him.”

Geoffrey inclined his head, giving neither man a positive or negative response. He didn’t like being manipulated by the two women, but their tactics had caused an excellent diversion from his lack of grace and a possible opening into the two wealthy households. Even though he was still in two minds about the close connection to the Latham family after everything that had transpired with Charlotte and Giles, he was willing to bide his time before dismissing any valuable information. He raised his glass marginally as Olivia looked at him and smiled serenely.

Dessert was served and conversation continued about the table but he had forgotten that at formal parties the ladies left the room while the gentlemen drank port and smoked cigars. Life at Ormond never followed such strict rules of etiquette. For one thing none of them smoked, secondly it would have meant that Alexander’s wife, Lily, spent many of the evening hours alone, something that Alexander would never have allowed. And thirdly, Alexander maintained that there was nothing he had to say that his wife couldn’t listen to, if it had been possible for her to do that, of course. As Lily was totally deaf, this last objection hardly counted, but Alexander insisted that they would spend the evening hours together anyway.

Geoffrey vowed to take only one glass of port while the men drank. He couldn’t allow alcohol to cloud his judgement or concentration while alone in this company. The swish of silk dresses faded as Olivia led the ladies from the dining room only a few moments later, and Bottomley handed Geoffrey the bottle of port. Slightly startled at the thought of now being the host at the table, he looked up, but Bottomley’s ferocious glare dared him to refuse the honour. He poured a small glass for himself and then handed the bottle along the table to Lord Latham.

“So horsemanship is your thing then, Talbot?” Lord Latham asked as he filled his own glass and passed the bottle to Lord Armitage who poured a generous measure before giving the bottle to a slightly tipsy Hubert Carruthers.

Geoffrey nodded slowly.

“Ormond has been kind enough to engage my services for several years. Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond the old Duke’s control, the breeding stock had been much depleted while Alexander was away at war, but there is now a strong improvement. Our latest addition is less than a year old but shows fine form already. I believe that Lady Caithwell will do very well from the yearling birthed by her own mare and sired by Lightning, a fine stallion that I have brought with me to London.”

Lord Carruthers he raised his eyebrows as he sipped his port.

“Oh ho! Do you indeed? We’ll have to take a look at this Lightning of yours. He or his progeny might make a good prospect.” He glanced down the table towards Lord Torrington. “Are you entering Firebrand into Lord Davenport’s race this year? I hear that he’s upped the winning purse to a thousand guineas.”

Lord Torrington eyed his friend and let out a soft belch before he answered.

“I’ve not decided whether to go for it. Lord Tilbury lost his best horse last year. Damned thing landed badly at the fifth fence and broke a leg. Had to be shot on the course.” He turned to look directly at Geoffrey as he explained further. “The race is notoriously hard going. Last year’s course was a complete nightmare. I thought I was going to be unseated over two of the fences and our friend Kingsmill suspects that Davenport has added some new and more challenging obstacles this year. He’s not racing that prize mare of his for fear of an injury.” He narrowed his eyes at Geoffrey as if seeking to divine his mind. “Will you have anything entered? There’s still plenty of time to put your name on the register of entries.”

Geoffrey shook his head as a sudden shudder raced up his spine. He glanced between Torrington and Carruthers, seeing some kind of communication going on between them, but was unsure as to exactly what it was. He kept his words calm and guarded.

“I’m here to escort the Duchess and Lady Charlotte, nothing more, but I will keep an eye on any...any opportunities and keep you informed of my decision.”

Mr. Michaels, who had until that moment remained virtually silent throughout dinner, suddenly snorted with laughter as he poured his own glass of port.

“Yes, well, opportunities arise all the time. I suspect there will be a few willing to wager a pretty penny on this season’s prospects.” He emphasised his last word as he looked significantly at the other men. “What say you, Torrington? Fancy ten pounds on her falling at the first fence?” He smiled widely as he raised his glass towards Lord Torrington.

Geoffrey narrowed his eyes and glanced around the table again. Something didn’t feel quite right. Lord Latham’s cheeks were stained red with discomfiture and he twirled his glass in his hand as Torrington tittered into his glass.

Hubert Carruthers picked up his glass. It wobbled precariously in his drunken fingers and the ruby liquid threatened to spill from its lip as he spoke up.

“I wouldn’t mind adding a certain young filly to White’s book. She looks as though she’ll be a good mount. Plenty of spirit and with a beautiful form. She might be more of a challenge that you think. I’ll wager ten pounds against you both.”

Geoffrey frowned as the man grinned along the table at his sniggering friend. The conversation was slipping even further from his grasp until it suddenly occurred to him that they were no longer talking of horses but of women, or rather, just one woman. He caught sight of Mr. Michaels’ sly smile as the man raised his glass again and the pain of realization shot through him. The men were insinuating that Charlotte could be compromised, ruined even, and it might possibly be one of them attempting the act. They were wagering on her possible downfall while attempting to ensure that the destruction of her virtue actually happened.

Silence fell as rage like he had never known before pounded in his veins. He clenched his teeth in an attempt to hold it back. This wasn’t his house and he wasn’t master of it. These people, however ill-mannered, were Olivia’s friends; not that he thought she would approve of this kind of conversation at all, but he couldn’t just leap across the table and tear the men’s hearts out through their throats, as much as he wanted to. His hand shook and he fisted it tightly beneath the table just as Lord Armitage suddenly cleared his throat.