But none of them was Lady Charlotte. Then again, if he wished to take the position with Sir Charles—whom Geoff had been told was now in Brussels to try to manage the Prince of Orange—he must wed. Worthington was right. Geoff had no more time to waste on Lady Charlotte. He had to find a lady who wanted to marry him and not drive off with another man. But whom? No other lady had attracted his attention. And he’d not paid attention to any other female all Season.
He jerked his mind back to the ball this evening. Had he even been sent a card to the entertainment? Not that it mattered. Even if Lady Holland had not invited him, he could attend. She was a friend of his mother’s and would not turn him away. No hostess would bar an eligible gentleman. She would also be able to introduce him to the ladies he hadn’t yet met.
He barely stopped himself from raking his fingers through his hair. How could this be happening to him? He had always been lucky before. Nothing he had ever wished to accomplish had been difficult. Yet now, less than a month before he was due to take up his position with Sir Charles Stuart, Britain’s ambassador to France and the Hague, a position that required him to have a wife, he must find a suitable lady. For some reason, the Fates must be out to get him.
Geoff started down the street and out of the square toward his rooms on Jermyn Street. He had been so certain of his future with Lady Charlotte.
Granted, he had been at his family’s main estate for the past three weeks attending his father and waiting for news of his acceptance to a post in the Foreign Office as an aide to Sir Charles Stuart. Geoff’s father, the Marquis of Markham, did not believe in young men engaging in dissipation while waiting for their sires to die. He himself had spent time in the Foreign Office as a young man, and had determined his eldest son should do the same.
Not that Geoff had in any way objected. The idea of living in Europe and learning more about the cultures and how diplomacy affected the world fascinated him.
Confirmation of his posting came three days ago. The only hurdle he had yet to bring about was his marriage. He had thought that would be easily accomplished. His father had given him permission to wed the prize of the Season, Lady Charlotte Carpenter. Lady Charlotte was everything a hopeful diplomat could wish for in a wife, possessing a perfect bearing and manners. She was never too loud. She was never out of temper—although she had seemed a bit crabbed of late. She was, in fact, moderate in all aspects of life. And beautiful, with golden curls and sky blue eyes. She, her sister, the former Lady Louisa Vivers, and their friend, the former Miss Stern, had been dubbed the Three Graces.
An hour after the messenger had arrived at his father’s estate with the news of his appointment, Geoff had left Fulbert Hall determined to meet with Lady Charlotte’s guardian and finalize the wedding plans. Now he would have to begin all over again. How had it all gone so wrong?
“My lord?” His groom held his pair of Blue Roans as he followed Geoff.
He had completely forgotten about his horses and carriage. “Take them to the stables. I shall walk back.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Geoff did not wish to return to his rooms, but couldn’t think of where else to go. Obviously, he needed advice if he was to find a wife quickly. His elder sister was in Town. She might assist him, but his pride would, no doubt, take a beating. And he’d rather not go through that.
Grandmamma was, however, also in the metropolis. She would be more than happy to find him a bride. It shouldn’t be that hard. He was extremely eligible and all he required was a lady of good birth, amiability, the ability to hold a conversation—she would, after all, be discussing world events with other diplomats and their wives—a graceful dancer—he could not imagine having a wife whose abilities might disgrace him—intelligence, and a certain elegance. Yes, that was all he required. He would like a lady who was not hard on his eyes, but a great beauty was not required. In fact, it might be better that she was merely pretty.
Love was not important. Not to him. The dilemma was that many young ladies appeared to want a love match these days. In his opinion, it was a messy way to start a marriage. Neither his parents nor grandparents had had love matches.
He was certain his grandmother would be able to think of someone. And who better to know exactly what was expected of the future Marchioness of Markham than the Dowager Marchioness of Markham.
Feeling more the thing, Geoff began strolling toward Grosvenor Square before he realized that the day was still young, and if he wanted Grandmamma’s help, he should not descend on her before eleven o’clock at the earliest.
The only other choice was one of his clubs. He stood for a moment debating whether to go to Boodle’s or White’s. At this time of day, Boodle’s was likely to be filled with provincials. Listening to talk of crops and the like did not appeal to him. He shrugged. White’s it was then. He made his way in the opposite direction toward St. James Street.
All the way from Berkeley Square Geoff’s feelings of ill usage grew. How could Lady Charlotte have gone off with Kenilworth when she must have known—indeed, Geoff had told her—that he’d planned to speak with her brother? On the other hand, she did appear to be exceedingly reluctant to reside overseas. And Kenilworth had done his best to monopolize her attention. Geoff grimaced. The man had done a good job of it as well.
Fully expecting to be the only gentleman present at this hour of the day, he entered White’s and saw that he was mistaken. When he strolled into the morning room on his left several gentlemen were reading newssheets, and the aroma of coffee scented the air. He glanced around looking for anyone with whom he was acquainted. Seeing no one, he crossed the hall to the other morning room.
“Harrington.” Mr. Gavin Turley, the eldest son of Viscount Turley, hailed Geoff as he stepped through the door. “Haven’t seen you in weeks. What have you been up to?”
“I’ve been with my father.” He sat in the large leather chair on the other side of a low table. A footman brought him a cup of tea, and he took a sip. It was comfortable being known in a club well enough that they knew what a fellow drank. Coffee might smell good, but he couldn’t stand the taste. He thought of not mentioning his most pressing dilemma, but he was desperate. “If you must know, I’m in the market for a wife.”
Turley stared at Geoff for a few moments, then turned his attention to the teacup that he twisted around before looking up again. “Are you indeed?”
“Yes.” Geoff nodded. “And quickly. You might have heard . . . Well, it is no matter.” There was no need for the whole world to hear from him how shoddily he had been treated by Lady Charlotte. Making sure that others knew he wished to marry, however, was prudent. After all, he was an eligible match for any lady.
“Tell you what,” Turley said, leaning forward. “Come around to my father’s house this afternoon on Green Street and join us for tea.” Turley raised a dark blond brow. “If you don’t have other plans, that is.”
An image of a lady with the same light flaxen hair came to Geoff’s mind. Lady Charlotte had introduced him to Miss Turley. The sister of Mr. Turley and the daughter of Viscount Turley. “Do I recall correctly that you have a sister who is out?”
“You do.” He leaned back in the dark brown leather chair. “She is enjoying her first Season. She is very pretty—at least I think so—and amiable as well. Even when I try her temper, she manages not to give me a bear garden jaw.”
He debated telling the man that he had already been introduced, but decided not to. Joining Miss Turley for tea was as good a place as any to begin, Geoff supposed. “I have no other obligations. In fact, I would be delighted.”
“Excellent.” The other man set his cup down and rose. “We shall see you at three o’clock this afternoon.”
He rose as well and held out his hand. “I look forward to it.”
Once Turley was gone, Geoff tried to remember everything he could about the man’s sister. She was pretty. Although, he could not remember much about her features. Her brother had blue eyes. He assumed she would as well. There could be no objection to her breeding. The title was quite old. They had come over with the Normans if he remembered correctly. To his knowledge, there had never been a scandal in the family. His grandmother would know more about that. After Lady Charlotte had introduced him to Miss Turley he had stood up with her for one country dance. As best he could recall, she was a graceful dancer and had kept up the conversation with him. Whether or not she was suitable to be his wife was yet to be determined. He shrugged. With any luck, he would know more later today.
