Wildblossom (47 page)

"I beg your pardon!" Geoff said coldly, and tapped the interloper on the shoulder.

"Oh!" Shelby cried. Her color was hectic. She came toward him and started to say, "Geoff, this is—"

"I don't give a damn who he is!" the Duke of Aylesbury shouted in a deep voice, and with that he drove his fist into the man's jaw with such force that he sent him hurtling backward into a tapestry-upholstered settee.

"Beast! That was the stupidest thing you've ever done!" she raged, scrambling over the wreckage. "This is Byron Matthews, my
brother!"

* * *

"I don't know what came over me," Geoff apologized for the dozenth time. "It was a primal urge beyond anything I've ever known before."

"Couldn't you have removed your signet ring first?" Byron asked in muffled tones. Lying on the sofa in the sitting room of Shelby's new suite at the Savoy, he was forced to keep an ice pack on his jaw and only speak through clenched teeth.

"I thought you were a bloody Frenchman, trying to woo her away from me with a lot of foreign phrases." He bit his lip and glanced hopefully toward Shelby. "I was rendered temporarily insane. By love."

"Stupid," she declared. "Idiotic. Infantile." Without looking at Geoff, she went to Byron's side and caressed his brow. "I have to go back to Earl's Court for my farewell performance this afternoon, but afterward I'll be coming back here for good. Will you be all right?"

"Mmm." His eyebrows went up. "I guess so."

"I'll go with you, darling," Geoff said to her.

"No. I can't stand the sight of you at the moment! Just send someone over after four o'clock with a wagon or something to collect my things."

He nodded, trying to look responsible. "All right. I'll mind your brother, then."

Byron's eyes widened with mock terror. "No! Don't leave me alone with this madman!"

In spite of herself, Shelby's lip quivered, but she bit back a giggle and said sternly, "Perhaps you've forgiven him, but I mean to think long and hard about the implications of this—this
savage outburst! What might he do after we're married and it's too late for me to change my mind?"

Geoff had done penance enough at this point. "I say, pouring it on a bit thick, aren't you?"

"Be glad I'm even allowing you in the same room with my brother and me!" With that parting shot, Shelby exited with a flourish.

"She hasn't changed a bit," Byron said through his teeth. "You're a hell of a brave man to take her on." He considered for a minute, then asked, "You don't have any plans to
change
her, do you? We've all tried since the day she was born, and I can promise you it doesn't work."

Geoff laughed. "Absolutely no plans of that sort."

"No?" He blinked. "Amazing."

* * *

Shelby's farewell performance with the Wild West Show was as dramatic and vivacious as the Little Trick Shooter herself. Throwing caution and impending duchessdom to the wind, she hammed for the capacity crowds and they roared their approval.

Buffalo Bill Cody took over part of the time for Ben, throwing the glass balls as Shelby cycled around the arena, and even holding the target for her during the mirror shot. At last, when she nodded to him, the old showman announced to the audience:

"Today, for her farewell performance, our wonderful Shelby will try one of the few tricks that has eluded her until now. Ladies and gentlemen, I ask that you give her your undivided attention as she now lays her shotgun on the ground, then attempts to pull the trap herself, then pick up the gun and fire it
after the trap is sprung!
Never before has Shelby accomplished this trick, even in practice!" Cody glanced at George Foehlinger, in the cowboy band. "George, a drumroll, if you please!"

Shelby's heart was hammering as she took her place in the middle of the arena. It seemed that every member of the audience was leaning forward, wide-eyed. Realizing that they cared much more for her than for the silly trick, Shelby smiled warmly, swept off her boater, and made little curtsies to all sections of the grandstand. The people rose spontaneously.

"Bravo, Shelby!" they cried. "We love you!"

That meant a great deal coming from the characteristically reserved Britons, so she pressed her hand to her heart and threw them a kiss in return. Cody was standing a few yards away, and when Shelby glanced back at him, he chuckled.

"Too bad you can't quit now, while you're ahead, little girl!"

She hadn't felt much enthusiasm for the show in days, but now the old charge of adrenaline returned.
This is my last trick!
Listening to the drumroll, she let the rhythm come inside her and willed herself to be fast enough this time.

The audience continued to stand, silent now.

Shelby's eyes went over the steps to the trick. The gun was her new favorite: a 12-gauge, double-barreled shotgun with a short stock and a light trigger pull. It was just like one of Annie Oakley's own, and Cody had suggested it for Shelby, saying that it was perfect for a petite woman.

But had she set it on the ground a half-inch too far away? No. No, this time she could do it, because she wanted it enough.

When Shelby raised a finger, the drumming stopped. She then pulled the trap, got the gun into her hands, fired at the clay pigeon that was flying through the air—and hit her mark. It was nothing compared to the complicated and difficult tricks that had made Annie Oakley famous, but the audience adored Shelby and they cheered as if she had accomplished the most astonishing feat ever.

The band struck up "In the Good Old Summertime" as she scampered around the arena, throwing kisses, then lightly ran back to her bicycle and pedaled away behind the curtain. Buffalo Bill could be heard trying to quiet the crowd, then he gave up and boomed, "Let's say good-bye one more time to our own Shelby Matthews. As you all know, this is her last performance. We'll miss her terribly, but we couldn't be happier that she is leaving us to become the bride of the Duke of Aylesbury!"

She took off her boater before going back into the arena, and the spring sunlight burnished her long, braided hair. It seemed that Shelby had a radiance that made people feel close to her even though they were far up in the grandstand. The affection that poured down on her from these countless strangers brought tears to her eyes. Cody came to meet her, embracing her in front of the audience.

"You've been a joy—and a help to the show, little girl." His white goatee tickled her cheek as he added, "We'll miss you."

Johnny Baker, the other legendary sharpshooter, was emerging from behind the curtain to embrace her, and then Iron Tail and a parade of Indians, and the Whirling Dervish, and the Cossacks, the Hawaiians, and all the cowboys who had hidden their infatuations from Shelby. She began to cry openly, smiling at the same time.

"We'll have to move this farewell party backstage so we can get on with the show, folks," Cody announced at last to the beaming spectators, "but I know you all wish Shelby as much luck in her new life as we all do—"

Just then, a tall, devastatingly handsome man came down from the grandstand. His arms were filled with a magnificent bouquet of peach, pink, and white long-stemmed roses; perhaps three dozen or more. The crowd buzzed as he strode out into the arena and headed straight for Shelby. He walked with the graceful, aristocratic strength of a lion, and waves of whispering rippled through the audience.

Shelby saw Geoff advancing toward her with a decidedly predatory gleam in his eyes. Her friends from the Wild West Show backed away as if it had all been planned, and she found herself all alone in the arena, blushing and uncertain as Geoff drew near. How magnificent he was! Wide-shouldered and lean-hipped in a dark blue frock coat with a crisp white shirt, he seemed to become more intensely appealing each day.

It came to Shelby that this was the greatest gesture Geoff could have made: to stand beside her in the middle of the Wild West Show, before thousands of Londoners and dozens of newspaper reporters. Tears slid down her cheeks as Geoff put the roses into her arms.

"Am I forgiven?" he murmured, smiling at her under his lashes.

"Don't be silly." She buried her face in the fragrant blooms to hide her tears. "I love you."

Then, to Shelby's shock, Geoff dropped to one knee in the dirt and bent his head before her. The crowd cheered louder than ever, and women could be heard sobbing over the din. Someone began to shout, "Long live the Duke and Duchess of Aylesbury!" and the audience took up the chant.

"You are the most amazing man," she said, and ran a hand over his hair. "Do, please, get up."

He kissed her hand instead, then rose in one lithe movement and smiled down at her. Shelby proudly took his arm. Colonel Cody came forward to escort the couple from the arena, the cheers and good wishes of the audience echoing after them as they disappeared behind the curtain.

Backstage, all the other performers crowded around to congratulate them and bid Shelby good-bye, but they had to let go because the show was still in progress. Finally, the duke and his bride-to-be walked together back to the camp village.

"'Twould seem that you no longer worry that the Wild West Show will tarnish your title," Shelby mused, a note of mischief in her voice. "I hardly would have expected you to advertise our attachment in this manner. Can you imagine what your mother would've done if she could have viewed the scene in the arena today?"

"Devil take my mother. As for the other matter, let us agree on some rules for our marriage, hmm?"

"Let me hear them first."

"I'll own up to my occasional words and acts of male folly, if you'll agree to
forgive
me more cheerfully. How's that?"

"Brilliant. However, I couldn't possibly make any promises."

"Your brother informs me that it's impossible to change you."

"That's true. I'm very impetuous... yet irresistible, don't you think?" Shelby threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately.

"Quite," Geoff agreed when he was able to speak. He swept her up into his arms then and carried her into the tent. Wooden crates were piled everywhere, so he set Shelby down on top of the biggest one, about four feet off the ground. "I suppose it wouldn't be too awful if we do quarrel excessively, as long as you put just as much vigor into making up with me."

Shelby was churning with emotions: euphoria over her performance and the execution of the trap-pulling trick, a bittersweet mixture of regret and relief that her time with the Wild West Show was ended, and anxious excitement about the future. Finally, ever-present, coating every other feeling, was her love for Geoff.

Their faces were inches apart, eyes locked. He fit his hands around her waist. Shelby linked her pretty calves, encased in pearl-buttoned leggings, behind his back. "Yes. I may not be able to make promises for my temper, but I can promise to make up with you in style." She kissed Geoff lingeringly, melting into his arms when he began to deftly invade her mouth and their tongues met. One of his hands splayed over the middle of her back while the other cupped her breast, rough and tender all at once.

Hot desire pulsed between Shelby's legs. "I wish I could just take off my clothes right here," she confessed.

Geoff's eyes raked over her body and his jaw clenched. He wanted her so badly it hurt. Often he woke in the night, aching for Shelby, not just in lust, but longing to feel her sleeping in his arms. "I wish we were married right now," he said raggedly. "I miss you all the time." He pulled her flush against him. "I want to be inside of you—"

Voices outside the tent announced the arrival of the footmen and grooms Geoff had assigned to move Shelby's possessions. Vivian had come along to direct them. As Shelby disengaged and straightened her clothing, she gave him a helpless look. "Tonight I'll be settled at the Savoy," she whispered.

"Right." His left eyebrow shot up. "With your brother and your best friend and God knows who else!"

She caressed Geoff's cheek. "I love you. Thank you for today."

He bent close, his breath warm on her ear. "Why is it that, so much of the time, love feels like torture?"

* * *

Caught in a long line of carriages arriving at Devonshire House, which sprawled behind brick walls along Piccadilly, Geoff looked at his three companions in the landau and yawned. "We haven't even set foot in the place, and already I'm dead bored."

Shelby laughed. "Why are you complaining so much these days?"

Charles Lipton-Lyons squeezed Vivian's hand and offered, "It's actually his habit. As long as I've known Geoff, he's found every aspect of life in London numbingly tedious."

"Yes, but now
I'm
here!" she rejoined.

"My point precisely," Geoff agreed. "There are so many
better
things to do with our time, yet we are constantly ensnarled in these social duties...."

Viv blushed to the roots of her hair, and Shelby cuffed his hand. As their landau reached the portico of Devonshire House, servants swarmed to assist His Grace's party. Light poured from every window, and the sounds of music and raised voices danced out on the night air.

"It's like... a fairy tale," Vivian murmured.

"Just try to look as if you are perfectly at home," Charles suggested gently.