Father’s lips twitched. “No. Your mother informed me that Miss Turley has a great deal to accomplish and very little time to do it. Your uncle will meet us for luncheon to discuss the ceremony. I suggest you bring the special license.”
That was yet another thing he hadn’t done. Elizabeth had wanted to look at the license, and he wanted to please her. If he knew Uncle Richard, and Geoff did, the man would take it with him. Nothing was turning out as Geoff had planned. His life was scampering off away from him, and he had no idea when he would be able to get it back under his control.
He spent the day meeting gentlemen he would be glad someday that he had met, and thinking about his betrothed.
Later that afternoon, when he and his father finally returned home, a letter from Captain Higgins, the skipper of the ship Geoff had hired, was waiting for him.
Lord Harrington,
I am at anchor in a bay just north of Harwich. Please send word when you depart London in care of the Ship in Felixstowe. I will arrange to meet with you.
Yr. Servant
J. Higgins
Thank God something Geoff had put in motion was working as he’d wanted.
When Nettle had made the arrangements, he’d assured Geoff that the ship was more than large enough to carry the horses, both his and his wife’s—well, she would be by then—hacks, two carriages, Elizabeth’s and his servants, and all their baggage in comfort. Still, he now wished he had toured the schooner himself. If only to satisfy himself the vessel was suitable for his soon-to-be wife.
Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. And, to be fair, Nettle had never given Geoff reason to question the man’s competence. Apparently, being denied Elizabeth’s company had put him in a contrary mood.
With nothing else to do, he looked in on her bedchamber. Even with the knowledge that his mother and grandmother had taken a hand, his jaw almost hit the floor.
The pale pink and white wallpaper had been hung. Several of the maids were at work hemming the curtains and bed hangings, and two men were re-covering the furniture.
“Oh, my lord.” The senior maid got to her feet. “It’s goin’ to be so pretty.”
“Yes, it is.” And light, and so like Elizabeth. Geoff strolled over to the bed. “You are doing fine work here.”
“Thank you, my lord.” The woman flushed with pleasure as did the four younger women. “We’ve been up since dawn working on it. We all want to welcome the new Lady Harrington to her home right and proper.”
The new Lady Harrington. His chest swelled like a bantam cock’s. The last Lady Harrington had been his mother. Now it was Elizabeth. “I am sure my bride will be pleased. I’ll leave you to it.”
“My lord,” his father’s under butler, Preston, said. “Mr. Turley would like to know if you are at home.”
Turley here? For what? They had already signed the settlement agreements. Geoff’s muscles contracted. Had something happened to Elizabeth? Surely his mother would have sent word. “I’ll be down directly.”
A few moments later, he entered the front parlor where Gavin Turley sat reading a newssheet. “As long as you aren’t here to tell me Elizabeth has cried off, I’m glad to see you. It’s been a devil of a day.”
“Cry off?” Turley barked a laugh. “Not likely. Your mother and my aunt have her firmly in hand. But you’re not going to see her until tomorrow morning. I’ve been sent to make sure that you don’t get into trouble.”
It was the night before his wedding, but Geoff had no desire to be with anyone but Elizabeth, nor did he wish to be cup-shot in the morning. When he said his vows, he would be sober. “As long as it doesn’t involve getting top-heavy, whoring, or excessive gambling. What do you suggest?”
Turley chuckled. “I’d be in grave danger if I tempted you to do anything more than dine at Boodle’s. As long as we stay away from the tables, we should come off all right.”
Before they had a chance to leave, Gibson stood at the door and announced, “The Marquis of Bentley, and Earl Endicott.”
What the devil? Had everyone thought about going out except Geoff?
“Met Bentley at the door,” Endicott drawled as he sauntered into the room. “Are we having a party?” Both Geoff and Turley must have appeared confused. “You know. Night before the wedding and all that.”
Bentley’s face lit up. “I didn’t know this was a party. Harrington, you’re getting married? I’m getting married, too. In Town with m’father and thought I’d come by. I wish Miss Blackacre was here. I’d introduce you. She is the lady I’m going to wed. Wonderful lady. Didn’t like to leave her. Have you met her?”
Geoff shook his friends’ hands, welcoming them. To Bentley, Geoff said, “I have not had the honor to meet your betrothed.”
The man was one of Geoff’s closest friends, but no one dithered more than Bentley. When Geoff had left Town to attend his father, Bentley had been in love with Lady Louisa Vivers—now the Duchess of Rothwell—since he’d first set his eyes on her. Yet, at some point after Geoff left, his friend became engaged to another lady. “I did hear about your betrothal. I wish you happy.”
“Yes, yes.” Bentley’s chest puffed out. “You must meet her sometime. Miss Oriana Blackacre”—he said her name as if it was a prayer—“and I shall marry next month. Excellent lady, and she won’t change the portrait gallery. Mama wouldn’t like that.”
