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Eden had no choice but to accept this, though it was a bitter draft to swallow. “I thank you for your honesty. Despite your words, I will yet hold to the hope that I may one day change your mind. I have every intention of marrying Lord Tavistoke.”
“Do not expect my blessing, for even if your father capitulates to such insanity, I shan’t.”
Not knowing what else to say, Eden made to leave.
“Eden.”
She stopped, but didn’t turn to face her adversary. “Yes?”
“I want you to know that I am in no way wroth with you. My frustration is with Tavistoke and entirely on your behalf. You are young and know so little of the ways of men such as him. He is handsome and charming, and you are enamored of him. For now. If, by some miracle, you do get him down the aisle, I shall be here for you in the event things don’t go as happily as you envision.”
Without answering, Eden stepped out and shut the door behind her. Needing air, she went downstairs and out into the garden. There would be an almighty uproar when Percy declared his intentions. Until then, she must do whatever she could to keep things calm.
“I was wondering why the curtains at your window were open so early.”
Yelping, Eden turned to see Genevieve’s smiling eyes peering at her from above the wall separating their two gardens. “Oh, you gave me a fright! What has you up and about before the noon hour?”
“The new girl dropped a breakfast tray in the hall outside my room. I could ask you the same, though I suspect it has something to do with this morning’s Tatler.” She grinned. “Mama was honking to Papa about it when I came down.”
Eden’s stomach tightened. “Indeed. I was yet abed when my stepmother summoned me to discuss it,” she admitted, making a snap decision. “Genevieve, I must talk to someone or go mad. My nerves are frayed beyond all hope of settling.”
“Tavistoke?”
She nodded. “He wishes to court me, but—”
“I knew it!” whispered Genevieve, triumphant.
“But my stepmother is set against it,” Eden finished. “What am I to do?”
Genevieve’s grin only stretched farther. “Meet me down by the gate.”
…
Wednesday
Percy’s jaw clenched as he read the missive from Eden concerning Lady Catherine’s terms and conditions for seeing her.
The woman had indeed taken umbrage at his impulsive act. She would not permit him to court Eden—at least not officially. Winning the dragon-lady over would be nigh unto impossible. Tossing the letter into the grate, he watched its edges turn orange before the paper crisped to ash.
Grabbing his pipe, he filled it with tobacco, working the leaves into the bowl with angry little jabs. His future mother-in-law must have something else in mind for Eden, else he would have been welcomed with open arms and sunny smiles instead of glares. Perhaps today, if he was careful and observant, he might be able to puzzle out exactly what. If the woman wanted to keep him at bay, she would have to rise early.
At least Eden had been able to warn him. It would’ve been far worse to leap into the fire blind. If he could just speak to her father without the wife present, he’d have no trouble accomplishing his goal. Men were infinitely more sensible than women when it came to such matters. But if Eden was right, any request to meet with Sir Geoffrey Lowther would likely be sabotaged.
Holding a lit rush to his pipe, he puffed until his cupped hands glowed cherry red when he drew.
Blast it all. Why did he always want that which was most difficult to obtain? There had to be a way to get around the confounded old badger. He experienced a sudden urge to take himself off to White’s and spend a few comforting hours in the company of his fellow sex. In addition to being more sensible, men were also far less frustrating.
In the wake of this thought came a brilliant idea.
Lady Catherine might hold sway when it came to what happened beneath her roof, but the woman would never set foot in White’s nor in any number of other places frequented by her husband. A smile turned up the corners of Percy’s mouth as sweet-scented smoke wreathed his head. Whether or not Sir Geoffrey frequented a club was something he must find out.
For now, there was the matter of today’s call. Dressing for an occasion had never been something he’d taken lightly. The clothes did not make the man, but they certainly spoke volumes on his behalf. Eschewing the amber brocade laid out by Seamus, he instead called for something more sedate. If he wanted to be taken seriously, he needed to look the part. He must exude quality, elegance, and above all, power.
When the Marquess of Tavistoke ascended the steps of Eden’s place of residence an hour and a half later, he was resplendent in dark blue with gold trim. It was a regal ensemble, almost militaristic. Gone was the dandified rakehell. Everything about him stated his rank and authority, right down to the golden crest gracing the head of his walking stick.
It was time he reminded certain people who he was.
The servant answering the door greeted him with round eyes, affirming his choice. Upon being shown to the drawing room, he was gratified to see Lady Catherine’s eyes widen an increment, too. Eden’s expression was one of both approval and warm appreciation.
