“If you werein love,” Cousin Apollonia said in a tone one would use to speak to a slow-witted child, “you would do everything on that list without question. You would not even have to be told what to do.”
Geoff snapped his mouth shut. This was incredulous. What could they be thinking? “You want me to pretend to be in love?”
“No, we want you to court Miss Turley properly.” Grandmamma rose from her seat. “Come, Apollonia, we’ve done all we can. It is up to Harrington now. If he loses Miss Turley like he lost Lady Charlotte, it will be on him. How much time do you have to convince the lady to wed you?”
“Two or three weeks. However, I do not understand what is so difficult about that.”
His cousin mumbled something about leading a horse to water as the ladies departed the drawing room.
Geoff glanced at the list again.
Send a note asking the lady to drive out with you.
Always ask for two dances.
That wasn’t too bad. Taking a lady driving didn’t make a man look ridiculous. Many gentlemen drove with ladies in the Park. Ladies liked appearing during the Grand Strut. And he did need to try out his new rig.
He could request a second dance in the same missive. He would send her a note first thing in the morning. But he’d be dammed if he was going to follow the rest of his grandmother’s and cousin’s advice. He’d look like a regular popinjay.
The butler handed him his hat and cane, then opened the door. “A good evening to you, my lord.”
“Thank you, Gibson.”
It wasn’t until he was halfway to his rooms that he began to speculate as to why his grandmother and cousin were so insistent that he love Miss Turley, or could possibly love her. Was compatibility not more important than love? From what he knew of love matches, they were messy and unreliable, causing heartache more often than not. The pair involved was either in alt or in despair. There seemed to be no middle ground. No room for compromise.
He knew for a fact that his grandparents’ match had been arranged. They seemed quite happy together. Until his grandfather had died, that was. Ergo, it made no sense that Grandmamma would badger him about being in love. He refused to hazard a guess what Apollonia was about. Most likely merely supporting his grandmother.
Still and all, Miss Turley struck him as a calm, intelligent woman. Surely she would agree with him that love matches were not at all to be desired. For some reason, that idea sat awkwardly in his mind. Would she, he wondered, agree with his grandmother instead of him? Did she want or expect a love match?
He gave himself a shake. There was no way he’d ask her. That would be tempting fate, and he did not need anything or anybody standing in his way.
Once he had returned to his rooms, Geoff threw the list on his desk and poured a glass of wine and drained it. He eyed the piece of paper his grandmother had given him and would have thrown it in the fireplace, but it was a warm evening and the fire hadn’t been laid.
Tomorrow he would start his campaign for Miss Turley’s hand, again. He had not a doubt in the world that by the end of the week, he would be betrothed.
Geoff woke early the next morning still sure of his success. Rather than rushing off to write to Miss Turley, he consumed a leisurely breakfast and two cups of tea. Only then did he stroll into his parlor and sit at his writing table to compose his missive to Miss Turley.
It was important that his request not appear as an afterthought. After all, he had never actuallythoughtof asking for a second waltz until his grandmother and cousin pointed out to him that he should do so. That she would expect him to stand up with her twice if he was courting her. Still, he must be careful to strike the right tone. He did not wish to appear to be desperate—even though he was.
Blast it all, he hoped she still had a set available.
Chapter Seven
The following morning Elizabeth lay in bed contemplating the previous evening. Actually, Lord Harrington’s behavior. Was he truly caper-witted as her aunt had said, or did he simply not know how to court a lady? And what did that mean? It appeared to her that every gentleman she had met during the Season had known exactly what to do once his affections were engaged.
Unless his affections were not engaged. That brought her back to the thought she’d had when he came to tea. He would wed any lady.
She listened to her maid busying herself in the dressing room. Her door opened and one of the maids was stoking the fire. Soon it would be time for her to rise. Aunt did not adhere to the idea of breaking one’s fast until ten.
Elizabeth blocked out the sounds of the house rising and went back to her cognitions.
No, notanylady. The woman he married must meet certain qualifications beyond the normal ones of birth, family, and character. The blasted man had practically interviewed her. But that did not mean he would come to love the lady he married. Only that whatever female he decided to wed had a role to fill that he required for his position with Sir Charles.
The all-important position with Sir Charles.
If that was all Lord Harrington wanted, Elizabeth could not live with that, merely being a player in his life. She wanted and deserved for her husband to love her. Even if she had to refuse to marry the only gentleman who had captured her interest, love was more important.
Throwing back the bed curtains, she swung her legs over the side. Her father would be furious with Elizabeth for refusing Lord Harrington, but, perhaps, Aunt would take her in. Surely she would do that for her twin’s daughter.
