Wildblossom (43 page)

"Uncle Ben told me that Lady Clementine is traveling to Italy. Considering the flirtation
he
had with her, it doesn't sound as if she's particularly faithful and devoted." Shelby's eyes snapped with consternation. "How lucky that I saved you from that marriage!"

"Clemmie's a good sort. She could have pitched a huge fit, but since her own conduct was hardly impeccable, she swallowed her pride and consoled herself with Ben. I think she'll be more apt to look for love when she decides again whether to marry."

"Well, I wish her luck, then," Shelby murmured. "Is there anything I should know before I meet Her Grace? I am determined to reshape myself into the ideal bride for the Duke of Aylesbury."

Geoff considered this question while maneuvering through the traffic near Buckingham Palace. "I should mention that my mother and I have just had the first frank conversation of our lives—about finances. Seems that the fortune isn't what it used to be, and I'm determined to manage the estates a bit differently. Your Americanism should serve us well in that area. You are hardly one to demand the most lavish of lifestyles."

"That's putting it mildly."

"Just be yourself—as always. No 'reshaping,' please!" He touched her cheek. "And try to remember that Mother takes her title and our social status rather seriously."

They arrived shortly, and Geoff took Shelby's arm as they walked toward Aylesbury House. Her eyes were so big that he whispered reassuringly, "It's awful, isn't it? I wouldn't mind a bit if we sold every last stone."

Inside, Geoff asked Whistler to announce them to his mother, but the ancient butler looked puzzled. "Does Her Grace expect you, Your Grace?"

"Of course."

"Odd." He wrinkled his parchment-fine brow in concentration. "Perhaps she's simply forgotten, then."

"My mother never forgets," Geoff countered. "Isn't she at home?"

"Well—yes, Your Grace, but she is about to leave. The carriage has just been brought 'round and her maid is helping her with her overgarments."

"Then we'll just pop upstairs and surprise her." Eyes narrowed suspiciously, Geoff took Shelby's hand and went straight past Whistler, who was rendered momentarily speechless by the duke's effrontery.

"Please... Your Grace... I really cannot allow..." The butler drew himself up, but advancing age had shrunken him so that his full height amounted to scarcely five feet.

"Don't worry, Whistler, I'll tell Mother that you threatened me with the ancestral broadsword." Geoff tossed this last over the upstairs banister, then disappeared, Shelby in tow.

"Well... then... thank you, Your Grace... I suppose."

Just then the dowager duchess emerged from her suite of rooms at the far end of the long, gloomy passageway. She was all in black, from her great hat swathed in net, to her fur-trimmed dinner costume, to her modest black shoes. Her face turned pale at the sight of her son and his companion bearing down on her. Clearly she was wondering if there was time to dart back into her sitting room and bolt the door.

"Mother, stand still!"

"What is the meaning of this, Geoffrey?"

Shelby had begun to wonder if they weren't making matters worse, but there was no reasoning with Geoff when he was like this.

"Will you tell me that you had forgotten our appointment?" he demanded of his mother, now standing over her wearing his most forbidding expression.

"Poor Whistler. Shall I find him run through on the staircase?" Her composure restored, she matched his chilly stare. "To answer your question, I would rather not elaborate at this time. I will say that another matter arose and I felt I should go out."

"Very cryptic," he parried. "I won't press you
further
in Shelby's presence, except to say that this is not a very auspicious beginning to your relationship with your future daughter."

Shelby stepped forward, extending her hand. "Your Grace, I am Shelby Matthews, and it is an honor to meet you. Also, I wish to apologize for the scene we have just caused in your home."

The dowager duchess pressed her lips together. "Well then... how do you do, Miss Matthews? I am sorry that I cannot stay and chat...."

"Another time. Perhaps we could meet without your son present." She gave the older woman her most winning smile.

Without preamble, Edith said, "Some of my oldest friends saw you at the Carlton Hotel recently, Miss Matthews. These friends are nobles of the highest order." Her voice became icier by the moment as she continued, "I understand that you were the
guest
of Mr. Bernard Castle, one of those jumped-up plutocrats who think they can
buy
position and prestige rather than earn it over centuries and by dint of the quality of one's blood." Her nostrils flared. "Mr. Castle is known for his female guests, I understand, and since you have already made such an indelible reputation for yourself in that
carnival,
it seems that everyone present at the Palm Court was aware that you were the latest of Mr. Castle's
companions...."

Geoff wished he could clasp his hand over her mouth. "Mother, that's enough," he said in deadly tones. "I won't allow you to speak another word against the woman I love, especially since your information is rife with prejudice and falsehoods."

"Were you not drinking champagne at the Palm Court with Bernard Castle?" the dowager duchess demanded of Shelby.

"I only went because Geoff forbade it," she replied softly. "And I had just met Mr. Castle a few hours earlier, Your Grace. And Geoff took me away from the Palm Court before I'd eaten one bite of food." Shelby paused, considering her next words. "However, I prefer
not
to judge people in advance or listen to gossip. I might have gone for supper with Bernard Castle even if I had known the rumors about him. You see, Geoff was still betrothed to Lady Clementine Beech at that time. I had no idea that I would ever be in this position."

"Did you not? 'Twould seem to me that you planned your strategy quite shrewdly, my girl; so shrewdly that my son believed you were completely guileless."

Geoff shook his head, enraged beyond memory. "What are you doing? Do you wish to separate yourself from me for the rest of your life?"

"Not at all." Edith stared back at him with beautiful brown eyes. "But we shall have to work diligently to alter perceptions of Miss Matthews if she truly is to become the Duchess of Aylesbury. Of course, she will have to move into this house immediately, and cease performing with that troupe of players."

Shelby managed a faltering smile. "I have no wish to argue with you on the occasion of our first meeting, Your Grace, but I have given Colonel Cody my word that I will continue with the Wild West Show through the spring. They need me."

"Have we all gone raving mad?" cried Geoff. "We're discussing long-range personal plans while standing in the corridor! Mother, you will have to give Shelby and me a chance to sort some of these matters out ourselves. We've only just gotten engaged this afternoon, for God's sake!"

"I must ask you once again not to curse in my presence, Geoffrey," she interjected coolly.

The muscle jumped in his jaw. "I'll be in touch with you soon to let you know what Shelby and I have decided."

"But—certainly you don't plan to have a wedding of any size, given Miss Matthews's background? I thought a family ceremony at the chapel in Sandhurst Manor might be nice, don't you agree? The village vicar is a lovely man."

Sensing that Geoff was longing to strangle his mother, Shelby extended her hand again and tried to speak with genuine warmth. "Meeting you has been one of the memorable experiences of my life, Your Grace. Good-bye."

The dowager duchess turned away then and started toward the rear stairway without a word of farewell.

* * *

After arriving at his own house and drinking two whiskeys, Geoff's spirits began to lighten. Shelby sipped wine, still looking stunned, while he regaled Charles and Vivian with the story of his mother's "devilish" performance.

"Sometimes I wish she would just go to Yorkshire and live at Aylesbury Castle, since that's what she insists she would
rather do," he said in conclusion, pacing in front of his audience of three in the library filled with Chippendale furniture, glowing wood paneling, and thousands of books. "I know that must sound cruel, but she is inviting that when she behaves that way."

Charles cleared his throat. "I don't think that Her Grace meant to be cruel, really I don't." His eyes shifted to Vivian, who was perched nervously on the edge of a forest green wing chair. "She's much more complicated than that; I've always sensed it."

"Have you indeed?" Geoff slanted a sardonic glance his way. "I can see you'd like to enlighten us, but I've had enough of my mother for one day." He dropped down on the sofa next to Shelby, gently took her hand, then looked from Vivian to Charles. "I hope you two have been dealing together tolerably well, since I threw you together without even an introduction."

"Why, Viv," Shelby remarked, "you're so pink. Are you warm?"

"No, no, just pleased—for you! Pleased to be here with you and Geoff and—Charles." Her cheeks burned hotter as she spoke his name. Thanks to Shelby's ministrations, Viv looked almost pretty, her hair pinned up and puffed out over carefully placed pads, her plain features enhanced with deftly applied cosmetics, and her thin figure reshaped by a new corset and a frothy powder-blue gown. Most effective of all, however, was the soft glow of budding happiness that replaced Viv's previous frightened-fawn demeanor.

"Actually," Charles volunteered, "Vivian and I find that we get along very nicely. We have a great many shared interests."

Both Geoff and Shelby were taken aback by this last comment, but neither could think of a way to inquire how Charles and Vivian could have discovered this so quickly.

Just then supper was announced, and the foursome went into the great dining room. Shelby was staring everywhere she went in Geoff's house, fascinated by the notion that soon they would live here together as husband and wife.

"Do you like it?" Geoff asked. He'd redone the room, as well as a few others, on the advice of a highborn lover a half-dozen years ago. The walls were covered with dull gold silk, the windows were dressed in tasteful cobalt blue and gold stripes, and the furnishings were classical Sheraton antiques.

"It's lovely," Shelby replied honestly. She sensed the hand of a ghost from his past, but didn't mind. It was Shelby whom he meant to marry, against all odds and opposition. "But Geoff, there are only four places. Where will Mr. Manypenny sit?"

"Miss Matthews," Charles said with a nervous laugh, "are you having us on?"

Geoff bent next to Shelby and said softly, "Darling, we are not in Wyoming any longer. The servants have their own quarters, below us, and their own kitchen. Manypenny would be horrified by the thought of joining us."

"But you promised that I should see him tonight! I was looking forward to sitting beside him and chatting about everything that has happened to both of us since we last spoke in August!" She set her chin. "Percy is my friend."

"I'd enjoy a visit with Mr. Manypenny, too," Vivian volunteered loyally.

"All right, then." He sighed. "I'll go and ask him."

When Geoff had left the room, Shelby turned to Charles with a smile designed to melt his resistance. "Geoff has told me so much about you, and all your shared adventures over the years. I hope that we'll become friends, Charles... and that you will call me Shelby."

His eyes widened. "I say, you Americans don't mince words, do you? All right then, let's be friends. Geoff has been moping about like a lost pup since he left you behind, so I suppose everything has turned out for the best." Charles extended his hand. "Welcome, Shelby. And congratulations to both of you."

She shocked him further by coming closer on tiptoe and kissing his cheek. "Thank you, Charles. You must be a wonderful friend, for Geoff to have named his horse after you!"

"Did he really? Not sure I care for that." Lipton-Lyons blushed. "Well, while we're chatting, I ought to give myself credit for bringing the pair of you together. It was I who convinced old Geoff to go to Wyoming at all!"

Before Shelby could reply, Geoff reappeared in the doorway. "Look who's come to dine with us." Standing aside, he revealed the towering frame of Manypenny, who crossed the threshold wearing a tentative expression.

"Percy! How I've missed you!" Shelby dashed straight to the elderly manservant and wrapped her arms around his torso. A big tear trickled down her cheek. "Oh, look, I'm making another scene. Do you mind?"

He was nonplussed for a moment, then a smile spread over his long face and he patted her back. "Not at all. It's simply splendid to have you back among us, Miss Matthews. Words fail me."

"Are you going to join us for dinner, then?"

"Just this once, only because it is an occasion without peer." Manypenny stepped back and attempted to regain his composure. "His Grace is correct, however, to remind you that circumstances in England cannot be as they were in America. Life is much simpler if we all keep to our prescribed roles."

"It's all a lot of pretentious nonsense, if you ask me—but of course, nobody
has
asked me, so I'll try to adapt."