Page 19 of The Lyon’s Paw

“Good night, my lady.” With a curt nod of his head, Lord Longford turned and strode down the corridor to the next door, entered and slammed the door shut.

Blinking back tears, Diana glared toward the place where Lord Longford had disappeared and called loudly, “Goodnight, Toad Longford!”

No response, which rather disappointed her. However, she did feel better for her outburst. Lord Longford’s disdain had not gone unanswered. Holding her chin up, Diana proceeded into her chamber and shut the door. Round one had been a draw. She hoped round two in this battle of wills would go squarely in her favor.

Chapter Eight

Next morning, Geoffrey tapped lightly on the door of his mother’s new quarters, guilt still sitting heavy on him. What had been the best guest room before was now his mother’s chamber and it sat ill with him that she’d had to quit the countess’s apartments upon their return from London with his bride. Especially when his bride was a wife in name only. He’d spent a miserable night, tossing and turning, wishing there had been some other way to save his sister and his properties. But what was done, was done, and his wife, not his mother, was now ensconced in the rooms right next to his own. Anything else would have incited speculation that he was not willing to endure.

As soon as he’d arrived home with his mother and sister, he’d given instructions that the dowager house, located about a quarter of a mile away from the main manor house, was to be readied for the dowager countess. Unfortunately, repairs would take some weeks to complete. Geoffrey hoped he could persuade his mother to remain at Longford Manor until his return from America, at which time her removal would no longer be necessary. Of course, news of the journey was going to sit very ill with her indeed. So he was not looking forward to the coming interview for several different reasons.

“Come in.”

He entered the elegantly furnished Princess Charlotte room, decorated in royal purples and pinks. The focus of the room was the massive four-poster bed jutting into the center of the room, draped in purple jacquard, the mattress standing so far off the floor one required a step stool to climb into it. His mother was situated in the sitting area of the chamber sipping coffee, the remains of her breakfast tray before her on the table. “Good morning, Mother.”

“Ah, Geoffrey. This is excellent timing.” She placed her cup in its saucer and rang the bell. “I’ll have Fitz bring you coffee and we can finish our conversation from last night.” She gave him a piercing glance from beneath lowered eyelids. “Before we were interrupted by your bride falling asleep in her tea.”

“It had been an exhausting day for her, Mother. I don’t wonder she was dropping where she sat.” Why he was defending his witch of a wife Geoffrey couldn’t fathom. He should be making sarcastic comments about the dreadful woman to his mother, not taking up for her. Last night he’d heard her faint but clear call of “Toad Longford,” for God’s sake, just because she wanted her way. He waved the thought away. They would set sail next week if he could make it so. “But I did wish to speak to you about the reception you’re planning for us and ask you to postpone it for another time.”

“Good heavens why, Geoffrey?” His mother frowned, looking put out and perplexed. “You went off and married the woman out of hand, with no thought for how it would look either to London Society or to our friends here at Longford. The very least you can do is allow me to make the most of what cachet there is left of your marriage and help me plan and hold the reception as quickly as we can.”

“I am afraid that is going to be impossible, Mother.” Geoffrey sighed, then leaned back in his chair. He’d have to be as blunt with her as he’d been with his wife last night. “My wife has informed me that we must sail for America immediately.”

“What?” His mother sat bolt upright, her blue eyes wide. “Whyever must you do that?”

“Her uncle left her some property there, in a place called Pennsylvania. She insists we must go there as quickly as possible to attend to some business…” Geoffrey cast his mind about for a reason dire enough that would call them three thousand miles away. Then he recalled a situation his father had spoken to him about involving their estate in Cumbria. “Apparently the estate has been mismanaged and is in peril of being lost due to a property boundary problem. It is similar to what happened to Hillcrest all those years ago.”

“Can you not appoint a steward to go in your stead to take care of the matter?”

“My wife insists that we go ourselves. The property is quite valuable, and she believes I will be the best hope of her keeping it. Especially as I understand the issue involved.” A sound enough argument—if only it were the truth. He hated lying to his mother, something he’d been forced to do all too often of late.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, his mother shook her head. “Well, if you must go, you had best do it quickly.” She cocked her head and began muttering under her breath. “Six weeks, or better say two months total…a month to take care of the business…six weeks to return…” After a pause she nodded. “If you have good luck and good winds you should be able to arrive back in London no later than the end of March. And even if you are delayed until mid-April, you will still be back in time for the presentation.”

Geoffrey shook his head. “What presentation?”

“Really, Geoffrey. Has marriage muddled your mind so very much already?” Mother looked as though she thought him an imbecile. “Joanna’s presentation at court. Her come out is in April. You must be back by then.”

The room suddenly started to spin around Geoffrey, whirling faster and faster until he feared he’d fall off his chair. He’d been wrapped up with the logistics of presenting his wife to his family and with the scheme of traveling to America to get rid of said wife. His sister’s come out Season had been pushed far back into the recesses of conscious thought. Now, however, it was front and center once more. “I…I’m not certain how long the business might take, Mother.” He gulped, already knowing the answer to what he was about to ask. “Can her Season be postponed for a year, perhaps?” That would actually suit him down to the ground as it might give Dandridge the time and impetus to find another society lady to pursue. “There is no reason she must be presented at the age of eighteen.”

“Geoffrey.” His mother’s voice sounded as though he’d suggested murdering his sister instead of merely denying her entry into Society. “How can you even suggest such a thing when all Joanna has talked about for the past year is her come out? Ever since the Braeton’s party we allowed her to attend celebrating their marriage, she has done nothing but prattle on about attending the balls and entertainments next year.” His mother stared straight into his eyes. “Are you going to be the one to tell her she won’t be coming out in the spring? Because I certainly will not.”

The sickening clench of his stomach told Geoffrey he could not be the one to take the joy and excitement from his sister, no matter what the cost to him. And there would be a cost—hell to pay, no doubt—when he informed his wife that their plans must be put on hold for the better part of a year. Because when Joanna had her Season, Geoffrey must, at all costs, be there.

Once he’d paid Dandridge off, he’d dismissed the man from his mind, but he’d be more than a fool to think the rogue had been dissuaded from marrying her just because Geoffrey had paid off his debts. The man would be back, trying to compromise his sister or worse in order to get Geoffrey to agree to the marriage. Damn, but he needed to discover why the scoundrel was so set on marrying Joanna. In any case, Geoffrey must be there, in London, to defend her from that devil in gentleman’s clothing.

“I take your point, Mother. So, that settles it.” Geoffrey rose, unable to sit still any longer. “I will inform Lady Longford that we must wait until after the Season to set sail for the New World.”

As the ancient maps had cautioned, Here there be Dragons.

Geoffrey arrived downstairs for dinner in the small receiving room before anyone else had appeared. He’d spent the best part of the day in his study, ostensibly going over the accounts of the past five years, trying to form a plan for the future, but in reality, the only plan he had truly thought about was how to inform his wife that she was not going to get her way in the matter of their journey to America. When to tell her was just as important as how it should be done. Not during dinner, certainly. He didn’t want the woman browbeating him before his mother and sister. That she would try to bully him into changing his mind was a given. She always had to have things her way. Except this time. There was no way around this. Geoffrey sighed. He simply needed to find a place where her voice could be raised without letting the whole world know what she thought of him.

The garden might suffice if he waited until they were far enough away from the house. If the weather held another day, it would be crisp, but not too cold for a protracted walk. Then the harpy could do her worst and no one but him would be the wiser. She would lose the argument in the end, but she had to be given the opportunity to try to change his mind. Perhaps it would be best to tell her the reason for the change of circumstances—if he could get a word in edgewise.

Geoffrey had mused thus far when the door opened and Lady Longford entered, dressed in what might pass for evening attire in a middle-class household. The gown was well-worn and had little style, but he had to admit the pale blue color became the woman well. Her cheeks were pink, the bright spot in her creamy complexion and the gown brought out the blue of her eyes perfectly. There was an odd sort of stirring in his nether regions. But it was true. If given the right clothing his wife would actually be quite stunning. “Good evening, my lady.”

She stopped immediately, glancing around the room for the others. “Good evening. Am I early?”

At least she was speaking to him. After last evening he’d wondered if she would. “No, well, perhaps we are both a bit. Mother and Joanna should be down presently.”