Wildblossom (44 page)

As they gathered around the table, with Geoff at one end and Charles at the other, Manypenny took the opportunity to lean down and tell Shelby, "I must congratulate you and His Grace on your betrothal. I couldn't be more pleased if I had made the plans myself."

Vivian glanced up from across the table and smiled at the old gentleman. When everyone was seated, she spoke up suddenly. "May I say something? Now that everything has worked out for our friends, Shelby and—uh, His Gra—"

"For God's sake, call me Geoff," he insisted.

"Thank you, Geoff. What I want to divulge is the fact that most of us were acquainted before tonight, and not just in Wyoming. I came to visit Mr. Manypenny some days ago, to let him know that Shelby and I were in London and enlist his help in reuniting them. That same day, Charles and I introduced ourselves outside this house, but he was sworn to secrecy because I couldn't let Geoff know. So you see... Charles and I were already... friendly before this evening."

Shelby and Geoff made exclamations of pleasure over this news, while Lipton-Lyons's pale skin grew flushed again. "I was drawn to Vivian from the moment I saw her. She is demure and ladylike, yet refreshingly honest, and possesses inner strength that is rare among members of the weaker sex."

"I beg your pardon," Shelby countered. "Inner strength is hardly rare—"

"Darling, do try to relax," Geoff interrupted, covering her hand with his. "You don't need to take issue with every spoken word with which you differ... particularly after you become duchess. It might be wise to begin practicing now to simply smile and remind yourself that most people don't mean to be idiots; I fear that
faux pas
come all too easily to us Brits."

"I'm not sure I am very well suited to these duchess rules," she replied with a little frown.

The first course, consisting of julienne soup and baked mullets in paper cases, was served. While the others began to eat and Shelby eyed her food dubiously, Geoff leaned over to whisper to her, "Have I not been careful to warn you that becoming Duchess of Aylesbury is not a position to which anyone of sound mind would aspire?"

"Yes. But I love
you,
Geoff."

"I'm glad to hear it. We'll sort out the rest later."

Still whispering, she asked, "What is this horrid-smelling thing in the paper?"

"Mullet." Laughter welled up in him. "It's a fish."

She started to wrinkle her nose, then put on a very serene expression instead. "There. Did I look like a duchess then?"

"It's a start." Waves of affection and desire broke over him, and he badly wanted to have Shelby herself for dinner.

As the meal progressed, with boiled leg of pork with pease pudding and roast fowls garnished with watercress, Shelby excitedly told Manypenny about the grand opening of the Irma Hotel and how she had come to join the Wild West Show. Geoff had only heard the story in bits and pieces, so he, too, listened with interest.

"I confess that I am fascinated by this drama," Charles said, "and I was terribly impressed by your talent when I saw you perform recently. Will you be very sorry to cut short your career as a sharpshooter?"

"I don't understand," Shelby said sweetly.

"I'm referring to the fact that your engagement to the Duke of Aylesbury must necessitate your withdrawal from the Wild West Show. I thought that perhaps you would be a bit sad to leave so soon after your debut."

"But I don't intend to leave. Colonel Cody was kind enough to make a verbal agreement with me, rather than a contract, and I intend to honor it." She took a sip of wine, adding, "He seems to feel that people may be coming to see me, though I don't quite understand it, and so I shall continue to perform through the spring, until the show leaves London."

"Shelby is used to making decisions on her own, without consulting a partner," Geoff interjected in a carefully patient voice. "We have yet to discuss this matter
together." Then, casting about for a way to change the subject before they had another argument in public, he turned to Vivian. "I hope I'm not putting a foot wrong here, but I have been meaning to ask you... how did you ever persuade my old nemesis, Bart Croll, to let you go?"

Viv went as white as the table linens, gazing at Shelby with stricken blue eyes. Geoff's innocent question had served to instantly plunge her back into the horror and degradation of life in the smoky, dirty sod prison she'd shared with Croll.

Shelby rushed to her aid. "Geoff, are you vying with me for the evening's indiscretion honors?" Everyone fell silent as the footman served gooseberry tarts, trifle, and Swiss cream. Shelby took a moment to think, waiting until the guests were alone again before continuing, "Perhaps it's best to bring this sore subject into the open, then bury it forever. Since we are among friends, we can be frank, but I know that dear Viv does not wish to speak of this after tonight."

"Fr-Frank?" the girl gasped.

"Yes. There's no shame in it, after all! The truth is that Viv worked up the courage to break free from that horrid man, to leave her marriage and come with Ben and me to London—"

"Here here!" put in Manypenny. "Well done."

"Indeed," Shelby affirmed. "He was worse than a beast, and she never should have married him, in spite of feeling that he'd rescued her." She glanced at Charles. "I know Viv will explain about the tragic fire that took her family, if she hasn't already. Bart Croll offered her shelter at the most vulnerable moment in her life, but then he mistreated her—much more than any of us ever guessed."

Her head bowed, Vivian could only nod.

"Well, she ran away from him, and since then we have heard that he
died
in some sort of accident, so it's all in the past, where it belongs."

"Died?"
Geoff echoed rather doubtfully.

Charles reached for Vivian's hand, and she raised her eyes, relieved to hear the way her friend had ended the story. "Yes. It's over. Bart can't hurt me anymore...."

Manypenny's great brow relaxed. "I say, how relieved I am to hear that the villain Croll is dead! Because, you see, I had a chilling experience the other day, and I've been feeling quite haunted since then. I was in Clifford Street, visiting His Grace's tailor, and I saw a man in a passing carriage who looked exactly like that dreadful fellow! Quite an eerie moment, but now I know that it simply could not have been—"

The old manservant broke off, mid-sentence, at the sight of Vivian sliding out of her chair and onto the Turkish rug in a dead faint.

Chapter 21

"I still say there's something you haven't told me about Vivian and Bart Croll," Geoff said to Shelby as she perused the bookshelves in the firelit library. Manypenny, after one spoonful of Swiss cream, had retreated to the comforts of his own room downstairs, and their other guests hadn't lingered long beyond Viv's recovery from her swoon. Charles had assured Shelby that he would see her friend home safely and remain with her for as long as he was needed.

"I'm happy to know that you can read me so well, Geoff, but I cannot comment about Viv."

"If Bart is safely dead and no longer a threat, why did she keel over upon hearing Manypenny's little story?"

"Well," she wet her lips and examined a gold-stamped volume of Dickens, "I suppose there is always the fear that the story of his death was some sort of ghoulish mistake. Yes, that's it! Really, wouldn't
that
be a nightmare come to life? To have him turn up here?"

"But Shelby, even if that were the case, Vivian hasn't any reason to fear Bart—certainly not so that she'd faint at the chance he might be in London! He
did
let her go after all." Geoff came up behind her and leaned around to scan her face. "Right?"

"Mmm-hmm." She was dying to tell him the same horrific tale that had so shocked her: that Viv had put rat poison in Bart's potatoes and left him writhing on the dirt floor, moments from death. However, Shelby had been entrusted with secrets too dark to betray. Instead, she held up
Oliver Twist
and remarked, "This is an awfully handsome edition. I can't tell you how impressed I am with your library."

"Can I give you a more thorough tour?" Geoff slid the book back into its niche and took Shelby in his arms. "Upstairs, perhaps?"

"Not until our wedding night, my naughty duke." Her face was lit by a wide, sparkling smile.

"Let's get married, then. I hate to give Mother undue credit, but her idea about the chapel at Sandhurst Manor wasn't half bad. I'm quite attached to it, and a wedding there would be so much simpler."

Shelby didn't answer, but her smile lost its luster and there was a hint of something in her eyes that Geoff struggled to analyze. He tried a different tack. "I hope you don't imagine that I agree with her—that we should marry in the country because we have something to hide, or that you are in any way unsuitable—"

"Of course not."

"I only mean—one would assume you wouldn't want all the fuss and pomp of a huge wedding here in London—that you'd prefer something small and simple."

"It seems that you know me very well, Geoff."

She was fiddling with another book, and for an instant he thought he saw a gleam of moisture in her eyes. Why, he wondered in frustration, was she so blunt about every subject except this? "Have I got it all wrong?"

"You must do what you think best." Shelby climbed a few steps up the library ladder and her skirts whisked toward his face. "I know that you've taken on a lot of trouble with this wedding to me, and I promised myself long ago in Cody that, if I were lucky enough to find myself in this position, I should make whatever concessions were necessary."

Was she bothered because everyone else was making decisions for her? But what about her own stubborn insistence upon continuing to perform with the Wild West Show? His head hurt. "Shelby, come down from there, would you? I'd like to talk to you."

Geoff's arms were outstretched, and she let him catch her, let him see the utterly vulnerable look in her eyes. The pins were loosening a bit in her hair, and a few tendrils brushed her temples and brow.

"You are so damned beautiful." Geoff kissed her gently, tasting each curve and corner of her mouth.

Shelby released a big sigh, blinking back tears, and struggled to be set on her feet. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Perhaps you should take me home."

"Home. How can you think of a tent as home?"

"If you would pay me a proper visit there and show a little respect for my world, you would understand. We're all a family, rather like an Indian village! When the front of a tent is open, that welcomes guests, and it's great fun to wander around and visit, and to have other performers visit Viv and me. We like to serve tea and biscuits. It's lovely! We have all the comforts of home... including flowers planted in front. Your spring bulbs are blooming next to Bernard Castle's rosebush."

"Is that your idea of poetic justice?" Before Shelby could reply, Geoff led her out of the library and picked up an oil lamp from the Adam hall table. "I want you to see the newest addition to the house. Come on."

She peeked into darkened rooms along the way, then gasped softly when Geoff turned into a splendid conservatory that fronted the Thames. By the wavering light of the oil lamp and the moonbeams that slanted through the glass walls, Shelby could make out groupings of wicker furniture, all with plump cushions. There were plants of all sizes everywhere she looked, some in china pots on the floor, others arcing out of dishes set up on columns. Great palms, ferns, miniature lemon and orange trees, and other flowering plants gave the conservatory the look of a jungle, and the air was heady with exotic, humid fragrances.

"Oh, I love it," Shelby whispered at last, feeling his eyes on her. She breathed deeply of the rich air and walked to the window to gaze out at the light-spangled Thames. "It's the same view we had from the Savoy."

"Yes." He came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. The sensation of their bodies fitting together, lightly, was keenly arousing. "Shelby... I wonder if I haven't botched this day. I wanted it to be perfect for you; magical memories that would last for a lifetime. Instead I made rather a bad job of the proposal, and the setting was hardly romantic—and then there was that scene with my mother... and it seems that we've been at each other ever since."