Secrets of a Spinster (33 page)

She grinned and took it. “And you would be quite right!” She looked at the spine for the title, then looked back at him, still grinning. “Fairy tales.”

He nodded, his own smile becoming quite smug. “Yes, in my cataloguing of your rather immense library, I discovered that you didn’t have a collection of fairy tales, which seemed quite a shame, considering how fond you always were of fairy tales and how many hours I spent playing all the roles from the wicked witch to the dragons.”

She giggled, which made her cough a bit. “Only because you were so good at it,” she insisted. She set the book down beside her. “Thank you, Geoff, it was very sweet and considerate of you. I’ll read them when I can.”

“Yes, don’t strain your eyes,” he said, his voice growing concerned. “I would hate to think that I brought something else ill upon you.”

She gave him a disbelieving look. “Please, you could never bring anything ill upon me.”

That seemed to surprise him, and he gave her a look that might have heated her from the inside out.

Then, unexpectedly, it was gone. “I never did hear, you know,” he mused, folding his arms, “how was your meeting with the dashing Viscount Riverton? Two whole weeks with no report? I hope it is good.”

Mary smirked a little. “Quite good. We danced twice, I think. I was very impressed with him, and shall retain a high opinion of his character. He has my good wishes and I hope we shall meet again on other occasions.”

“But…?” Geoff prodded, keen eyes fixed on Mary.

She shrugged. “But we wouldn’t suit. He is very pleasant, and dances very well, but he is not looking to settle yet, and he made that very plain.”

“Did he, indeed?” he replied with a laugh. “And just how did that come about?”

“Oh, when we were dancing I mentioned that he danced well, and he replied, ‘What, only well? Not like an angel or with the grace of a swan?’, to which I replied, ‘I know nothing of swans or angels, my lord, but I know enough about dancing, I am sure.’”

Geoff laughed loudly, grinning at her. “Nicely put. Then what?”

“Well,” Mary continued, thinking back, “then he informed me that he had it on good authority from no less than three young ladies that he did, in fact, dance like an angel, and I said he could not argue with so many witnesses, but I would stand by what I had said. He seemed surprised by it, and asked me if I had any intention of flattering him at all.”

Geoff’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What did you say to that?” he asked her.

Now Mary smiled in earnest, still rather impressed with her daring from that night. “That I only flattered when there was something to flatter, and never falsely at that.”

Now it seemed Geoff was fighting laughter, but it was there in his eyes.

“And after that,” Mary said with a sigh, “the viscount laughed and stated that I had no intention of trying to marry him, did I, which, naturally, I had not.”

“You told him that?” he asked, his smile turning crooked.

Mary nodded. “In no uncertain terms.”

“And how did the dear viscount take the news?”

“Rather well. He laughed again and said he appreciated that, as he was not looking for a wife despite his mother’s best attempts, and he would be glad to dance with me again later for a reprieve.”

“And he did,” he stated, looking oddly pleased.

Mary nodded. “And he did.”

He paused for a long moment, staring at her. “Seems a good match to me,” he said carefully.

Mary smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “Perhaps, but he would only be pursuing me to please his mother, as so many others have tried this season. I require more than that, I fear.”

Geoff shifted a little in his seat, his eyes intense. “Do you?”

A knock on the door came and she rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Come!”

“Busy day?” he asked in a low voice.

She sniffled into her handkerchief. “I find I am more popular when I am sick than when I am well. It is most distressing.”

“Such a horrid life you must lead,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Mrs. Evansdale entered once more, bobbing yet again. “Mr. Burlington is here.”

“I am not receiving,” Mary reminded her, ignoring the way Geoff had begun to snicker.

“I know, Miss,” Mrs. Evansdale said with a motherly smile. “I just thought you ought to know. He left a lovely bouquet of flowers and expresses his most fervent wishes on a fast recovery with no lasting ill effects.” She bobbed once more, and turned from the room.

“Oh, come now,” Geoff said the moment she was gone. “You are going to see me, but not the standard by which all fops are measured?”

Mary expelled a burst of giggles and covered her mouth. “Oh, don’t! He is quite a nice gentleman.”

He shrugged. “I have no doubt of it. The epitome of a twit would have to be favorable in some form, or he would never get invited anywhere.”

Mary clamped her lips together as more laughs shook her shoulders.

“But really,” he continued as if nothing had happened, “you ought to at least take a look at the flowers he brought you. If the biggest waste of refinement and breath that was ever called a gentleman has gone to all the trouble of getting you flowers, without even checking to be sure if you like flowers, it would not hurt you to glance at the poor dead things.”

Mary was now beside herself with laughter, which unfortunately made her cough even more. She hunched forward as she coughed, and suddenly felt a hand at her back, rubbing soothing circles.

“There, there,” Geoff murmured, his voice soft and low, “there, now, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head as she recovered and patted his chest before he moved. “Don’t apologize,” she wheezed, coughing slightly. She smiled up at him and lay back against the pillows as he resumed his position in the chair. “Never apologize for making me laugh.”

He smiled uncertainly and rubbed his hands together. “But I should apologize for making you cough.”

Again, she shook her head. “Breathing makes me cough at the moment. Not you.”

Her errant strand of hair suddenly fell forward into her face. She went to move it, but Geoff’s hand was suddenly there. He slowly moved the hair out of her face, tucking it softly behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek with the lightest touch as they came forward, and Mary felt her face heat beneath them. She chanced a look at his face, only to find his eyes fixed on hers.

Her heart began racing within her and her breath was suddenly hard to find. And it had nothing to do with her illness.

His eyes flickered down to her lips, where puffs of air were escaping in the most shameful pants. Then they were back on hers, and somehow, there was more heat, more emotion, more power in them. Something she felt all the way to her toes, which curled involuntarily beneath her bed sheets.

She could not be this vulnerable to him. Not anymore.

She drew in a shaking breath. “I think… I had better… rest now,” she said in a soft, trembling voice.

His lips curved into the softest, sweetest smile. “Yes, you probably should, Mary.” He sat back and prepared to leave.

She swallowed quickly. “That is not your name for me.”

He turned in surprise and gave her a very serious look. “You told me not to use it any longer.”

Impulsively, she bit her lip. His eyes followed. “I…” she began, hesitating. What would he think of her?

His eyes met hers again and she found confidence. “I miss it,” she finally told him, smiling helplessly.

He stared at her for a long moment, hardly a reaction on his face. Then he sighed in apparent relief, and smiled once more. His smile was warm, tender, and something else she could not find a word for.

“Sleep well, Goose,” he murmured, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her forehead. He touched her cheek, and she met his eyes. “Send for me if you need anything.”

Somehow, amid her swirling senses, she nodded.

He moved to the door, grinning once more as if he had not just sent her mind and emotions and wits reeling.

Then he was gone.

She inhaled sharply and exhaled in one fell sweep, bringing her hand to her brow.

What in heaven’s name had just happened?

She had not felt that fluttery with him in years.

He had never looked at her like that before.

He had ever touched her so gently before.

He had never…

She shook her head and put it into her hands. She was imagining things. She was in very great danger of falling head over heels over heart for him yet again, and as usual, her mind was playing tricks on her for it.

She rubbed her chest absently, still feeling the burn within.

He was not in love with her.

And she was not in love with him.

Not anymore.

Geoff inhaled deeply as he stepped out of doors, determined to cleanse his lungs with the fresh air. He sorely needed it. He had meant to visit Mary as a way of cheering her up, and instead he had been the one affected.

Not that he had failed to notice the effect he had on her. He knew very well that she was no longer immune to him, he could see it in her eyes, in the slight trembling of her body, the shakiness of her breath. But all of that did not amount to love. He could not deny he was pleased by it, but it was not enough.

It would never be enough.

He shook his head to clear away the fog within it, and got into his carriage with a firm nod at Dawes.

It had been several weeks since their reconciliation, and he was delighted with the progress he had made towards rebuilding what he had almost destroyed. And he felt even more confident that Mary could come to love him, assuming he did not make a mess of things again. With their history, and given her responses to his treatment of her, he thought it just might be possible.

But he could never be entirely sure. After all, she had loved him on and off for all those years and he had never noticed a thing.

He was watching now, though. He was keeping a close eye on her throughout this time, so that he could be sure to catch the first hint.

He could not shake the nagging fear, however, that throughout her time as a debutante, she had learned to be a better actress than he would have thought.  What if she could hide her emotions from him, as she had so long ago? What if he never saw the slightest trace of softening on her part? Would he have to swallow his fear and pride and confess all?

Would she ever believe him?

He sighed and glanced out of the window at the passing London buildings and people. There was not time to dwell on all of this now. He’d been meeting with Captain Riverton frequently, and they had set many things in motion. Now results were coming into light, and he was pleased with the progress that had been made.

No one outside of his circle of friends and Captain Riverton had any idea what they were about, save for the few contacts that the captain had utilized. Determining the fate of a ship and specific members of the crew was a messy business and had to be done with a great deal of tact. They could not possibly find out the fate of all that should have been aboard, and if anyone knew of their plan, that question would be raised.

He could not make such a request of Captain Riverton, nor of his contacts. He was fortunate enough to have gotten as far as he had.

They knew a great deal at this point. They knew the ship and crew had been in a Spanish port some eight weeks ago, and that at that time, Lieutenant Wyndham had been with them. But considering what they had known before, which was nothing, it was a start. They had also received word of a potential epidemic of a rather potent stomach virus in the vicinity of the port, but they were waiting for more details on that subject.

The other information that was vital was the knowledge that the ship had indeed left the harbor in Spain, and had done so nearly six weeks previously. All they waited upon now was the information as to whether or not Lieutenant Wyndham had been with his shipmates at the time of their departure. Those details were difficult to come by, and it was this crucial detail that had taken so long.

The waiting had been tortuous.

Keeping the secret from Mary, and from Cassie by extension, was painful beyond expression.