A Wedding In Springtime

chapter Two

Eugenia had not taken more than two steps inside her aunt’s Mayfair townhouse before she was given an unwanted command.

“Go change into something less conspicuous,” demanded her aunt. “We must speak with the Duchess of Marchford. She will know what to do.”

Genie would rather have hidden under her bed or in a wardrobe for the rest of the London season, but she had caused enough disgrace for one day and would not add to her problems by being disobedient. So an hour later, she was back in the lumbering coach with her aunt, the Lady Bremerton, and her cousin, the Lady Louisa Munthgrove.

For the outing, Genie chose a plain white muslin dress with little adornment. She hoped it would help her blend into the background. Lady Bremerton, a decidedly plump woman, made the most of her natural assets in a lilac, formfitting half dress that revealed a bit more décolletage than Genie’s country sensibilities found appropriate for social calls. Lady Louisa shared her mother’s dark honey hair and rosy cheeks but on a smaller frame. More modest, as befitted an unmarried lady, she wore a smart blue spencer over her white muslin dress, with a sea of ruffles and lace frills at the bottom of the skirt.

Along the short journey, Genie’s aunt continued to dwell on the irreparable damage Genie had done to her social standing. Naturally, the ball in her honor would have to be canceled, and any hope of receiving invitations was lost. Such was the magnitude of Genie’s offense in the eyes of her aunt, that Genie was relieved to arrive finally at their destination.

The coach came to a stop with a jerk in front of the Marchford mansion, situated prominently in Grosvenor Square. Remembering not to gape at the impressive architecture, Genie followed her aunt and cousin as they were helped out of the coach by the groomsman.

“Thank you, Sam,” said Genie as the groomsman offered his arm to help her from the coach. This won her a stern look from her aunt.

“It will not do for you to appear overly friendly with the help,” whispered her aunt as they climbed the stairs to Marchford mansion. “The coachman was merely doing what he is paid to do.”

Since Genie had only been in London a few weeks, she understood her aunt was trying to help her appear less countrified, yet Town manners left a lot to be desired in her humble estimation.

They were ushered through the tall doorway by an imposing butler who informed them in the gravest of tones that the dowager duchess was not at home but was expected shortly.

“We will wait for the dowager in her sitting room,” declared Lady Bremerton with authority.

Genie was momentarily surprised by her aunt’s boldness until she remembered Louisa was engaged to be married to the Duke of Marchford. She assumed, since they were family friends, allowances for familiarity must be made, yet Louisa appeared distinctly uncomfortable, clutching her work bag of embroidery to her chest like a shield.

Louisa’s engagement to the duke was a long-standing arrangement. The duke’s recent return from working with the Foreign Office in Cadiz for the past three years had raised hopes that a date for the nuptials would soon be set. Indeed, Aunt Cora spoke of little else.

They were invited to sit in an elegant drawing room, lavishly appointed in blue and gold, with artwork Genie identified as an original Titian and a da Vinci hanging on the walls. Light poured in from large windows, giving the room a warm hue. The ornately carved furnishings were of obvious quality, and everything was neat and bright and polished to a gleaming shine.

“This is a lovely room. The light is good for stitching,” Genie said to Louisa, who was an accomplished embroiderer. Instead of a smile, Louisa’s shoulders sagged a bit and she merely nodded in response. Genie decided her shy cousin must be overwhelmed with the prospect of being mistress of this grand house, an intimidation she could well understand.

“Yes, Louisa will do quite nicely in this room, though there is also a small ladies’ study upstairs which has even better light,” said Lady Bremerton.

Genie nodded in response, noting that her aunt often answered for Louisa.

“I do hope we can get to the duchess before she hears the story from someone else,” said Lady Bremerton, making herself comfortable on the settee. “I should hate to think that Genie’s behavior should have any negative effect on you, my dear.”

“How could it?” asked Louisa. “It was a little thing, soon forgot.” Louisa gave Genie a tentative smile, which Genie quickly returned. Though cousins, they had never met until a few weeks ago. Louisa’s naturally reserved style made growing acquainted a slow process. Her support at this moment of Genie’s greatest defeat meant a lot.

“Soon forgot?” Aunt Cora tsked at Louisa like a naughty child. “I should think not. Why, this story will circle London before the day is done, mark my words. I only hope it should not make the duke think ill of you.”

“Do you think he would break the engagement over this incident?” Louisa’s eyes went wide.

“No chance of that,” replied her mother. “I saw to the engagement contract myself. He will not be wiggling out of it no matter what he should like to do.”

“I should not like to marry a man who does not wish to marry me,” murmured Louisa.

“It makes very little difference either way,” retorted Lady Bremerton. “What would you do? Follow your own fickle fancy of the moment? We have seen today the fruits of that decision.”

Genie let out a whoosh of air as if she had been punched in the gut. Aunt Cora could never forget that her sister, Genie’s mother, the infamous Lady Mary, had gone against the wishes of her family, broke an arranged engagement, and eloped with a gentleman farmer. In her aunt’s eyes, Genie would always be the result of the unholy union between an earl’s daughter and a lowly commoner. Genie’s presentation at court was supposed to redeem her, but she had only confirmed the whispers of her bad blood.

Men’s voices were suddenly heard in the hall, and a tall man in a superbly cut dark blue coat entered the drawing room, instantly commanding attention. His broad shoulders, aristocratic nose, and assured presence gave Genie no doubt that she was in the presence of the Duke of Marchford.

“Marchford, my dear!” exclaimed Lady Bremerton, rising from the settee. “It is wonderful to see you. You have been so busy lately we have had hardly any time together.”

“Yes, sorry. So busy, just getting back in Town, you can hardly imagine,” said the duke, slightly taken aback to find Lady Bremerton and his intended in his drawing room.

“Certainly, we understand, do we not, Louisa? But we hope to see you much more often in the future.” Lady Bremerton beamed in a manner not shared by the stoic Marchford nor the shy Louisa. They acknowledged each other in silence.

“Marchford, have you visitors?” Another well-dressed man sauntered into the drawing room. He had changed his silk breeches for a nankeen pair that so hugged his muscular thighs Genie averted her eyes. It was none other than Mr. Grant.

“Hello! We meet again!” Much to her horror, Mr. Grant walked up to Genie directly. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you are not on your way to Botany Bay,” said Mr. Grant, his impish silver-blue eyes gleaming. “Marchford, I insist you introduce me to this divine creature at once!”

Marchford, having yet to meet Genie, confessed he was at a loss, and Lady Bremerton was forced to make the introductions, though her reluctance was clear.

“Miss Talbot.” Grant bowed over Genie’s hand. “How much better you look without your plumage.”

“I could say the same for your purple britches,” Genie said sweetly. She had endured enough jabs for one day.

“Just so, just so!” laughed Grant. “You have a real spitfire for a niece, Lady Bremerton.”

“Yes, how true,” agreed Lady Bremerton with a smile that was not so sweet.

“Have you come to visit my grandmother?” asked Marchford, businesslike and direct. He took a seat farthest from his intended, who for her part focused on her embroidery and never raised her eyes.

“Yes,” answered Lady Bremerton. “Your butler informed us she was expected shortly.”

Marchford nodded in agreement and gave a quick glance at the door. “She was attending a wedding this morning. I trust she will return soon.”

“Perhaps she is attending the breakfast afterward.”

“No, she does not care much for the groom’s family. I wrote my cousin to escort her from the church.”

“You don’t mean Jonathan, do you?” asked Grant. “I heard this morning he was dreadful sick. His mother was going on about how she hoped it was not contagious, but unless you can catch it from that bottle of blue ruin he was nursing last night, I expect he shall be right as rain by the morrow.”

The duke frowned, dark eyebrows clamping down over his eyes in a manner most intimidating. “Jonny is in the sick room?”

“He is, shall we say, indisposed.” Grant’s silver-blue eyes danced with a natural merriment. “Not sure where that leaves your dear grandmamma.”

The Duke of Marchford muttered something under his breath Genie pretended not to hear. “I apologize, but I must see to my grandmother. If she has been waiting all this time…” The duke made a strangled sound.

Grant shook his head. “Best run for the Continent. It’s your only hope. Perhaps you can join Miss Talbot on her expedition to the colonies.”

“Grant, please keep these ladies company while I see to the dowager,” said Marchford.

“Yes of course, fly, my friend!” Grant stood to usher his friend out the door, and the Duke of Marchford did exit the room with more haste than a strict adherence to decorum would allow.

“Such excitement, eh, ladies?” Mr. Grant sat himself next to Genie on the couch, which earned Genie a stern glance from Lady Bremerton. Genie could not but think this unfair, since she could hardly control where the man sat.

“We are perfectly comfortable waiting in the drawing room, Mr. Grant,” said Lady Bremerton. “You need not stay to keep us company.”

“I would not dream of leaving you alone, not when Marchford has specifically asked me to act as host. Besides, I have not yet had the chance to become acquainted with the lovely Miss Talbot.”

“Genie, ring the bell for tea, please,” said Lady Bremerton, interrupting Grant.

Genie dutifully stood to ring the bell. Catching her aunt’s glare, she sat back down on another chair, far from Grant.

“Well played, Lady Bremerton,” said Grant. “I see I have crossed swords with an expert. Miss Talbot, you are safe from me for the moment.”

Grant easily turned the conversation to safer topics, but the quiver of excitement in the air every time he glanced at her told Genie that, with Mr. Grant, she was far from safe.

***

“So, Lady Louisa, is this your remarkable embroidery in hand? Do tell me about your latest project.” Grant had little natural interest in needlework but listened attentively to Louisa’s description of her ambitious project embroidering the Greek goddess Aphrodite running away with her lover Ares. Grant needed to play the charming host to win time with his latest prize. Miss Talbot was a delightful bundle, fresh as daisies in a simple white muslin dress.

Lady Bremerton was a devoted chaperone, with a reserved nature, but Grant was able to soften her demeanor by sharing his secret for where to find silks at only seven shillings and sixpence a yard. Lady Bremerton may not care for his flirtatious manner with Genie, but she was not above taking his advice on fashion.

After a lengthy conversation of the latest trends and the comfort of tea and cakes, Lady Bremerton took up a book, Lady Louisa moved farther away to sit in the light for her stitching, and Grant seized on the moment of complacency by offering in as offhand a manner as possible to show Genie some artwork, naturally leading Genie to a far end of the large drawing room to admire a Renaissance treasure.

Titian may have been a master at his craft, but Grant’s admiration was solely given to Miss Talbot. In the sunlight, her golden curls shimmered. Her face was lovely; she was truly a great beauty. Gowned in white muslin, her form was perfect, slender, and curvy in all the right places. She flashed azure eyes at him with a warm smile. He smiled in return, unable and unwilling to stop himself.

“Beautiful,” said Grant.

Genie nodded. “The art collection is amazing.”

“The pictures are quite fine too,” said Grant with a smile guaranteed to raise the blood pressure of any eligible (or ineligible) female.

But Eugenia Talbot returned his gaze without so much as a blush. “Mr. Grant, I can see you are quite incorrigible and take pains to live up to your reputation.”

“My reputation? My dear girl, you have been in London only a handful of weeks at best. How can you possibly know my reputation?”

“I know what my aunt has told me,” said Genie in a soft tone, so her relatives could not hear.

Grant motioned for Genie to sit on a settee at the far end of the drawing room. Genie glanced around, but Louisa and her aunt were still within sight, though paying them no mind.

“Now tell me, of what has your aunt to accuse me?” asked Grant in a similarly hushed tone.

“Only that you are a notorious rake and that I can in no way amend my tattered reputation by boasting an acquaintance with you.”

“Your aunt is correct, I fear. I shall not be accused of misleading you in the matter.”

“Your honesty is commendable. I also expect you would not wish an association with me.”

“You intrigue me. Whyever not?”

“I believe I am now considered a social leper. I only say so to warn you against forming an unwise acquaintance.”

Grant stifled a laugh. No woman had ever warned him against her. “Surely it cannot be as bad as all that.”

“Oh, but it is. At least, according to my aunt, nothing could be worse. I am considering getting a bell to ring and shouting ‘unclean, unclean’ whenever I enter a room so as not to catch unsuspecting persons in my web of social ruin.”

At this pronouncement, Grant laughed heartily, causing Lady Bremerton to give them a sharp look before returning to her engaging gothic novel. “You do make me laugh,” he whispered when he had better control of himself.

“Yes, I have a great enjoyment of laughing, as well you know. Though perhaps my humor can be ill-timed when provoked!” Genie whispered in return, her eyebrows frowned into a little pucker Grant found adorable.

“Ah, yes, again let me convey my sincere apologies for my role in your…”

“Ruin?” suggested Genie.

“In the unfortunate incident. I was having difficulty restraining myself.”

“So I noticed, but unfortunately, no one noticed it was you who laughed first.” Miss Talbot crossed her arms in front of her.

Despite her good humor, Grant could tell he had unwittingly caused her pain and a rarely used sense of chivalry surged within him. She was correct, he had laughed first, which he did not consider his fault in the least; however he was conscious that the wink might be considered poor form.

“Surely it is not as bad as all that. It is a moment’s on-dit. In a few days, the gossip columns will be on to a new topic and you will be all forgot.”

“You think it will be in the papers?” Genie’s eyebrows raised, her eyes a terrifying deep blue.

The news of Miss Talbot’s disastrous presentation would no doubt be splashed across the morning papers, a detail Miss Talbot did not need to know. “I… that is to say…” Grant wished he was a more convincing liar and had an uncharacteristic desire to win her good opinion.

Miss Talbot sighed and looked away. “Then you had best stay away lest you become tainted by association.”

“I believe my reputation can withstand a short tête-à-tête. I am glad to have found you are not a missish little thing.”

“If I were missish, I would not be in this trouble.”

“But then you would not have had the pleasure of making my acquaintance, since I avoid debutantes as a general rule,” confessed Grant.

“Are you one of those men who think nothing of riding neck-or-nothing to win some ill-conceived bet, but tremble at the thought of a debutante ball?”

“William Grant, Esquire, at your service, Miss Talbot.”

“At least you can have no fear of a debutante ball in my honor. It is all to be canceled now according to my aunt, for who would come? I fear I shall be packed back to the farm with all due haste. I am disappointed I could not better represent my family. We have not been close, and I had not expected my aunt to sponsor my debut into society.”

“She brings you out because you are a diamond of the first water, and she wishes you to add to her own social standing by sponsoring the most beautiful debutante of the season.”

“You are funning with me.”

“Indeed, I am in earnest.”

Miss Talbot gave him a discerning gaze, so open and blunt he was inclined to squirm like an errant schoolboy. “I do not believe you are unfamiliar with giving a lady a compliment. Your sweet words flow from well-practiced lips.”

“My word! I would not think a person so young as yourself to be so jaded!”

“I have four brothers, sir. I fear I was cured of naive notions regarding men at an early age.”

“Ah, with you, I can get away with nothing. And here I was trying to make a good impression. I’m a shocking rake; it’s true. Despite this, I can say with complete honesty that though I have seen many a pretty girl, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”

Grant had on more than one occasion flattered without thought, but as he spoke, he realized this time his words were true. In response, he had the pleasure of seeing Miss Talbot’s cheeks grow pink at last.

“Stop trying to gammon me. I can see you are quite a rogue.”

“True, but now that your reputation is ruined, you can dance with me at the next ball.”

“But you do not go to balls attended by debutantes,” reminded Miss Talbot. “Besides, I find it very unlikely I will receive any invitations after my shocking lack of propriety.”

“Leave it to me. My fault you’re in this fix. Must set it right!” Grant took her gloved hand and held it between his hands, delighting in the way her slender fingers naturally curled around his. “I hereby claim the first dance, and I will have it.”

“I do believe we have waited long enough for Marchford’s return,” called Louisa. She may have appeared to be engrossed in her work, but nothing escaped her notice.

“Yes,” agreed Lady Bremerton, breaking from her novel. “I think it is time to return home.”

“Ah, dear Marchford, poor boy, he has been gone long,” said Grant. “Wonder if he has survived abandoning his grandmother.”