The Marrying Season (21 page)

“Genevieve. I did not send you a note.”

They stared at each other in silence. Genevieve dropped back down into her chair, as if her legs would no longer hold her.

“You asked me to meet you in the library,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“I did not.” Myles half-turned away, his hand going up to comb through his hair. He swung back to her abruptly. “Why in the world did you think it was from me? Was it in my hand?”

“I—I don’t know.”

Myles seized her wrist, pulling her from the dining room and down the hall to his study. He shoved an account book aside and dug into a stack of papers, hauling one out and thrusting it in front of her face. “
This
is my handwriting. Did it look like this?”

“Stop waving it about like that!” Genevieve snapped, and grabbed the paper from him. “No,” she admitted.
“Well, honestly, Myles, how was I to know it wasn’t your hand? It isn’t as if you’d ever written me before.”

“Of course I hadn’t! I wouldn’t have been penning you secret notes, now, would I?”

“I don’t know why you are bullying me about this. It isn’t as if I made it up!”

“No, you just believed the worst of me,” he shot back. “Good God, Genevieve! You really don’t know me at all, do you? How could you think that I would have asked you to meet me in such a clandestine way? That I would be so careless about your reputation—or any young lady’s, for that matter?”

“It had your name on it!” Genevieve set her chin, feeling beleaguered. “You’re being unreasonable. How was I to know you would not do such a thing? You have always been rash, jumping into things without thinking.”

“Oh, have I? Like asking you to marry me, I suppose.”

Genevieve stiffened. “Are you throwing that up to me now?”

Myles bit back a retort. He took a breath and stepped back. “No, of course not. That was entirely my decision.”

And from his tone, one he now regretted, Genevieve thought, with a sharp pang in her chest. She turned away and walked over to the window to look out, saying carefully, “I beg pardon for misjudging you.”

Myles let out a sigh. “Genevieve . . .”

“The note said something like, ‘G—I must talk to you. Library. Myles.’ I thought it must be important—well, clearly I did not think or I would not have gone.”

“I should have thrashed that blackguard then and there!” Myles growled.

“You think it was Mr. Langdon who sent it?”

“Who else could it have been? He was in the library, waiting for you.” Myles began to pace. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I thought you knew! I wondered why you had sent it, but . . .” She shrugged, unwilling to say that she had avoided the topic because she had not wanted him to feel that she blamed him for her predicament.

“I knew Langdon was a cad, but I would not have thought he would stoop to such a level.” Myles stopped his restless pacing. “I am going to London. I intend to pay Mr. Langdon a visit.” He started toward the door.

“I’m going with you.” Genevieve moved to intercept him.

“What? No.”

“No?” Genevieve said in a dangerous tone. “You think to leave me immured out here in the country? Absolutely not.”

Myles sighed. “Genevieve, think. It hasn’t been even a month yet. The gossip won’t have died down, and it will start up harder when we return.”

“No doubt. But the gossip will reignite whenever I return. I have to face them sometime; I won’t let a bunch of rumormongers scare me away. This is my fight, Myles. It was my reputation that suffered. And I intend to find out why. I am going.”

Myles crossed his arms over his chest, and Genevieve was certain he was about to argue the point.

“If you do not take me with you, I shall only go on my own.”

“Devil take it! You would, too,” Myles said, aggrieved. “Oh, very well.” He dropped his arms and strode toward the door, tossing back over his shoulder, “But I warn you—I’m not waiting for you to pack your trunks. We leave in an hour.”

They arrived in London two
days later. The servant who opened the door at Rawdon’s house gaped at Genevieve and Myles in surprise, and Genevieve’s grandmother appeared equally astonished. However, the countess quickly pulled her face under control and rose to her feet.

“Genevieve, child, what a surprise.” Her blue eyes were sharp on Genevieve’s face, and she sent Myles a quick, suspicious glance. “Sir Myles. I did not expect you for some time.”

“Business called me back to the city, Lady Rawdon, And Genevieve was kind enough to keep me company. I am having Thorwood Place set up for us to live there, but I am not sure it is in a proper condition yet.”

“You must stay here, of course, until your house is quite ready. I fear Rawdon and his wife are not home just yet; they went to the theater with Lord and Lady Morecombe. Pray, sit down. Have you had anything to eat this evening? I am sure that Cook could whip up something.”

Genevieve demurred. It was rather strange to be treated like a guest here in the home that had been hers for so long.

“Sir Myles, no doubt you would enjoy a glass of brandy in Alec’s study after your long journey,” Lady Rawdon went
on. “I shall see Genevieve up to your rooms.” The countess’s courteous offer was clearly also a dismissal. Myles took it with his usual good grace, casting a humorous glance at Genevieve before he bowed and took his leave. Lady Rawdon turned to her granddaughter. “You must be tired. You are slouching.” She laid a light hand on Genevieve’s back, and instinctively Genevieve straightened her shoulders.

Genevieve followed her grandmother’s perfectly erect back out the door and up the stairs, keeping to herself the thought that she could find the room in which she had slept for years perfectly well by herself. She knew that her grandmother’s intent was to talk to her in a place free from the prying eyes and ears of servants.

“Is everything all right, Genevieve?” Her grandmother turned to Genevieve as soon as she shut the bedroom door behind them. “This is a terribly swift return from your honeymoon.” She narrowed her eyes, studying her granddaughter.

“Yes, of course. Myles and I are—well, we have gotten along quite well.” Genevieve faltered, aware that she was probably blushing.

The countess’s expression eased. “Good. I am pleased to hear that you are not unhappy. But you must see, dear, that it looks a trifle odd for the two of you to come rushing back to London from your honeymoon.”

“Myles had something he needed to attend to.” Genevieve hesitated. “The fact is, we learned that my running into Mr. Langdon in the library was not by accident.” She explained their discovery regarding the note.

“Really, Genevieve, why did you go to the library to meet Sir Myles?” Lady Rawdon asked crossly. “Surely you must have realized the impropriety.”

“Yes, of course, but . . . well, it was Myles,” Genevieve said, realizing how weak her excuse sounded.

“I should hope that Sir Myles would not have been so foolish as to put you in a compromising situation,” the countess retorted. “I cannot imagine why you did not know that.”

“Apparently you know him better than I,” Genevieve replied somewhat resentfully.

“You must be careful to keep this to yourself. It would sound even worse if the
ton
learned you had intended to meet a man secretly, especially since you were engaged to another. Accidentally running into a man whom everyone knows is a rake is far less damaging than arranging trysts.”

“It wasn’t a tryst.” Genevieve’s eyes flashed.

“Of course not, dear, but that is not the point. Everyone would assume it was a tryst, and that is what matters. The gossip has died down for the most part, but if this was known, it would flare up all over again.”

Genevieve started to retort, but she held her tongue. She had learned long ago that it was of no use to argue with her grandmother, especially over something that she had no plans of doing, anyway. Instead she said mildly, “I suspect the talk will revive as soon as I make an appearance.”

“Yes, of course, but there’s no need to add wood to the fire.” Lady Rawdon paused, thinking. “I don’t see why this news brought the two of you back to town.”

“Mr. Langdon obviously must have arranged the whole thing. He is even more culpable than we thought. Myles was furious, and he means to find him.”

“Oh, bother.” Lady Rawdon grimaced. “I would have thought Sir Myles would have more sense. As it is, I have managed to keep Alec from doing something outrageous, but once he hears this . . .” She shook her head. “I do hope Sir Myles will keep his head enough that this isn’t made public.”

“He doesn’t intend to have a duel at dawn with the man, if that is what you mean. But I think we deserve to confront the man who threw me into a very public scandal.”

“The fact that you may ‘deserve’ it does not make it an intelligent course of action.” Lady Rawdon waved a hand, dismissing the subject. “Well, there’s no need to talk about that now. I shall leave you to get some rest. Hopefully Mr. Langdon will be bright enough not to show his face in London until Sir Myles has calmed down.” Her grandmother hesitated, then came forward to lay her hand on Genevieve’s cheek. “I am glad you are finding married life acceptable.”

“Thank you, Grandmama.” Impulsively Genevieve leaned forward to give her grandmother a peck on the cheek. “I am . . . quite comfortable.”

“Very good. I told the butler to put Sir Myles in the yellow room. It is not the best view, but I thought it the likelier choice since it is next door.”

“Oh.” Genevieve was aware of a curious sense of disappointment. She had grown accustomed the past few
days to Sir Myles’s presence in her bed. But that had been the product of the circumstances. They were back in the world again, taking up their normal routines. “Of course.”

After her grandmother left the room, Genevieve sank down on the chair before the fireplace. Xerxes padded over to leap up into her lap. Oddly, here in this familiar room, she felt lonelier than she had in days.

Throughout their drive to London, the atmosphere between Genevieve and Myles had been strained. They had not brought up the issue of the note that had precipitated their trip, instead discussing setting up their household in the Thorwood home in London, which the family had not used for several years. But through all the discussions of ongoing renovations and such things as decorating, hiring servants, and setting up a town carriage, Genevieve could not help but brood over their argument. Now she wondered whether, with Myles having a separate bedroom, he would even come into her room tonight.

She busied herself with getting ready for bed, but finally, wrapped in her dressing gown, her hair down, she could find nothing else to do, and she sat down in the chair by the window. It would be foolish to stay up. Myles might decide to wait up to speak with Alec when he got back. He might be tired and go straight to bed. She sat for a few more minutes. The sound of the front door’s closing roused her from her reverie, and she stood up to look out the window.

Myles was walking down the street away from her.
Doubtless he was heading for White’s or some other club to see his friends. To drink and gamble and . . . do all those things a gentleman of the
ton
did. It was no surprise. They were back in London; it was only natural that Myles was returning to his usual routine.

Genevieve turned away, her throat tightening. Slipping out of her dressing gown, she snuffed out her candle and went to bed.

When Genevieve went downstairs for
breakfast the next morning, she found Sir Myles and her grandmother already seated at the table. Myles popped up from his seat with a look of relief. “Genevieve.”

“Sir Myles and I were just discussing the renovations to his house,” Lady Rawdon said as Genevieve sat down in the chair Myles pulled out for her.

“Yes, and I fear the countess found me sadly lacking in knowledge,” Myles added. “I told her you were taking over all the arrangements with the house.”

“Yes, of course.” Genevieve gave him a tight smile. She wondered when he had come in the night before; he certainly did not look like a man who had spent half the night out carousing. She turned toward her grandmother. “I thought I would look at the house this morning, Grandmama. Why don’t you and Damaris come with me?”

“Certainly, dear.”

“Genevieve. Myles.” They all turned as Alec strode into the room. He came over to kiss his sister’s cheek.
“Good to see you, Genny. I was surprised to find Myles here when we returned last night.” He sat down, adding with a frown, “You must excuse Damaris. She does not feel well enough for breakfast these days.”

“I am sure she will be fine, Alec.” Genevieve glanced at her grandmother, who gave her a sardonic look. “ ’Tis only to be expected. She feels well the rest of the day, does she not?”

“She says she does,” Alec replied doubtfully, picking up a piece of toast and beginning to butter it. “I’m not sure we should have gone to that play last night.”

“Every one of my sisters has gone through it, Alec,” Myles put in. “All of them did perfectly well. You’ll see.”

“But none of them were Damaris,” Alec pointed out unarguably.

“I never realized Damaris was so frail,” Genevieve mused.

“She’s not.” Alec shot his sister a dark glance. “It’s all very well for you to laugh, Genny. You, too, Myles.” He waggled his butter knife at Myles. “Just wait until you go through it. You’ll find it’s an entirely different thing.”

Genevieve glanced over at Myles and found him regarding her thoughtfully. She felt a flush begin to rise up her throat, and she hastily returned her attention to her plate.

The countess cleared her throat delicately. “Be that as it may, Alec, I think you will agree that this is hardly a fit topic for the breakfast table.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Alec tucked into his breakfast.

Alec waited until their grandmother excused herself to get ready for their morning excursion, then turned to his sister. “Myles told me what happened. That bastard Langdon. I should have taken care of him that night. I don’t know why I let Damaris dissuade me.”

“Perhaps because you were being sensible for once,” Genevieve suggested. “I hope the two of you will consider that before you charge off to do something to him now.”