Secrets of a Spinster (21 page)

Let him see how his hated London would feel for him then.

Winston suddenly appeared and bowed before her. “Miss Hamilton, you have a visitor.”

She groaned and rubbed at her temple again. “I thought I specifically said no callers today…”

“You did, Miss,” he acknowledged with another bow. “But this gentleman says he has a note from you requesting a meeting.”

That brought her head out of her hand and she stared at her butler in confusion. “A meeting? I set up no meetings.”

“I know that, Miss, as does he. He said to forgive his impertinence, but he thought urgency might be best, once he received the note you sent.”

Still confused, Mary followed the butler down the hall towards the foyer. “Who is it, Winston?”

“Mr. Bray, Miss.”

Mary stopped in her tracks. “Oh,” she said softly. She took in a deep breath, then released it slowly. This would be very unpleasant, she feared. “Right, I must see him. Where is he?”

“The drawing room, Miss. Shall I send for some tea?”

She almost laughed, but nodded. “Yes, I think so. And extra biscuits. If half of what I have heard about him is true, we will need quite a few of them.”

“Very good, Miss Hamilton,” Winston said with a low bow as he left her in front of the drawing room doors.

The footman moved to open them, but she held up a hand.

Duncan Bray was Geoff’s best friend. Would he know about their disagreements? Would it factor into his treatment of her or his opinion? Would he believe her as readily as he might have a few days ago? She shook her head. Duncan was a sensible, kind man, despite his terrifying stature, and he had always treated her with respect and generosity. He would not be so crass as to be ungentlemanly simply because Geoff was out of humor with her.

She pulled her shoulders back, adjusted a stray wisp of hair, and nodded at the footman, who opened the door for her.

Duncan turned from the window at which he had been standing and bowed with a smile. “Miss Hamilton, I apologize for not setting a time for a meeting. I assumed you would be receiving today. I’ve heard you have a bit of a crowd control problem of late.” His smile was warm, and his piercing eyes danced with restrained mirth.

She managed a comfortable smile of her own. There was no need for pretenses with him. “That I have, Mr. Bray. It seems better since speaking with your sister, however.”

His smile dimmed a bit. “I was afraid of that.”

“No, no, it’s quite lovely,” she protested, taking a seat on the divan and gesturing for him to take a seat as well. “I wasn’t used to the degree of attention I was receiving, let alone the number of willing participants, and your sister has such experience…”

“Too much, in my opinion,” he growled.

Mary could not help but smile at his response. “Perhaps, but nevertheless, she was a great help to me, and I hope I shall be able to help her in some way in the future.”

That seemed to satisfy him. “Thank you, Miss Hamilton,” he replied softly. “I should like for Marianne to be exposed to some sensible feminine influence. I fear only having an overprotective brother does not sit well with her much of the time.”

Mary let out a small sigh, and swallowed. “I fear it is for that overprotective brother part of you that I have requested to speak with you.”

He frowned sharply. “What do you mean?”

She started to bite her lip in anxiety, then remembered she shouldn’t and opted to clench her fingers together instead. “Has Marianne told you anything about our day together last week?”

He slowly shook his head. “Not a word, beyond that she enjoyed herself.”

“Yes, well, there was one part that neither she, nor I, enjoyed at all,” Mary confessed. She hesitated, just for a moment, and then said, “I think now, as I did then, that you should hear about this from me, and then you may decide how best to proceed.”

C
hapter
F
ourteen

T
he ballroom at the home of the Duke and Duchess of Ashcombe was undoubtedly the finest ballroom in London, aside from perhaps the palace itself. But even then, it was unfathomable that any place could look as magical and elegant as the sight currently before those fortunate enough to be in attendance. Candles blazed in every chandelier and holder, the grand windows gave sight to the immaculate gardens, all glowing in the firelight of the torches along the path, and the stars winked in on the dancers and those persons who had ventured out to the terrace and gardens for a more romantic evening. The musicians were the highest quality that could be found anywhere and their instruments gleamed proudly in the light of the room. The ladies present were as beautiful and elegant and immaculately dressed as any to be found, made more enchanting by the excitement and hope in each pair of eyes. The gentlemen, more prone to groan at such events, were as eager as young lads, and such was the attendance that partners were plenty and time had ceased to exist.

Geoffrey Harris had no such illusions. He barely noticed the splendor of the location or the ladies or the night at all. His attention was entirely focused on one particular point, and had been for the whole evening.

Mary was sitting, for a change, surrounded by as many men as he had ever seen attend her. She had been dancing the entire night, each dance and each partner as equally delightful as the previous, if her expression was anything to go by. He heard her tinkling laughter above the sounds of the musicians and he cringed at the sound. It was so grating, so false, so… not Mary.

She arrived after he and Cassandra did, which effectively ruined his evening, pleasant as it had begun, as she had swept in on Mr. Burlington’s arm. They were quite the pair together; there was not an eye in the place that had not been fixed on them for their grand entrance. The smile on her face was proud and radiant, and more than one gentleman had been scolded by his lady wife for lingering too long upon her.

Cassie had not said a word about Mary during the ride over, for which he was grateful. He was pleased to escort the girl, as everything was exciting for her these days. She had chatted cheerfully about who would be in attendance, made him tell her any gossip he knew of, and then shyly asked him if she looked presentable enough for a ball hosted by a duke and duchess.

He tore his gaze away from Mary and her menagerie momentarily to look for her, and found her sitting in the corner of the room with Christian, smiling at something he was saying. But not dancing. He frowned. He had already danced with her once, as had Christian. They each may be able to dance once more with her, but beyond that would be cause for comment. Time to call upon his friends, he expected.

He seized Colin’s arm as he passed in front of him.

“Steady on, Harris,” Colin barked, looking down at the hand holding him still. “Do you mind? I’ve just seen Elizabeth Nearing reenter and if I don’t dance with her now, her mother won’t let me at all.”

“You are dancing with Cassandra Hamilton next,” he informed him.

Colin’s brows rose. “Am I?”

Geoff nodded in Cassie’s direction and Colin looked, then his eyes narrowed. “Right you are, so I am. See you in a minute.”

Adjusting his gloves and fixing his most charming smile, Colin Gerrard strode across the ballroom, crowds parting before him as the very Red Sea for London’s very own Moses. Several gentlemen watched with interest, for where Colin went, others were sure to follow, and even as he led Cassie to the dance floor, a few gentlemen approached the chair she had been occupying, content to wait for the dance to be done before their turn. Such was Colin’s gift. No one could really tell just when or how Colin had obtained his mysterious power, but there was no denying that he possessed something rare.

Satisfied that his duty was done, Geoff turned back to his previous activity.

Burlington was nowhere to be seen, which made him grunt in satisfaction, but there were plenty of other men to make him glower. She looked like an illustration he had seen once of a beautiful ancient queen with a bevy of slaves surrounding her, faces turned towards her in adoration, worshipping her with their eyes. The idea had made him chuckle before, but now it simply made him nauseated.

She knew he was here. He had met her eye at least twice already. Each time she had given him a cold consideration for only a moment, and then looked to others around her with a greater intensity. She avoided looking in his direction at all cost, which suited him just fine. He much preferred to cause a stir by glaring from across the room. Let the gossips and biddies make something of that, and see if word would not reach Mary’s preciously ignorant ears. Whether or not she would act on them remained to be seen and even he, with all of his past knowledge of her, could not have predicted her reaction.

“Geoff looks terrible, doesn’t he?” Derek whispered in a not-whispering voice.

“Awful,” Duncan agreed, equally not keeping his voice down. “Don’t think he’s had a proper night’s sleep in some time. I think he is still having the corridor dream.”

“Ah, I heard about that,” came Nathan’s voice from somewhere near them. “And do you know if you have actually appeared yet, Duncan?”

“I haven’t heard. Geoff, can you see me in that dream yet?”

“Or where you are going?”

“Or why you are late?”

“Geoff?”

“Geoff.”

“Harris?”

Geoffrey blinked, but didn’t answer any of them. He couldn’t think about that blasted dream right now, not when Mary couldn’t even be prevailed upon to acknowledge him in such company as this. She laughed again at something Jack Kent was saying and he felt his stomach churn. She turned to some insignificant puppy and smiled as if at an adorable child, which made the fellow beam as though she were heaven’s most glorious angel.

She could have been a Grecian goddess in that gown, a rich cream color with gold trim swirling about it, hugging every curve. Pearls and gold dotted her hair, which was braided and twisted to contain them all, but looked as though at any moment or with the slightest tug, the whole coiffure would come tumbling down. Which, naturally, made her that much more enticing.

To other people.

It only irritated him.

She was the perfect debutante embodied. Even the way her head was turned seemed to be graceful and elegant. The turn of her throat was regal, the precise depth of her chin modest, and the neckline of her gown suggestive without being shocking. There was no fault to be found in her appearance even by the most stodgy of pious men. They would have flocked to her as well simply to hear her voice.

Geoff harrumphed and leaned against the pillar next to him, shifting his weight and folding his arms.

This was ridiculous. Did these men not realize that only a few weeks ago she was a wallflower? That they themselves ignored her? That she had been around for almost ten years without any hint of an admirer? And now, because she changed her hair and her wardrobe, because she was smiling and coy and flirtatious, because she was playing the game…

He hated this game, and he always had. But now he had more reason than ever.

“Are you going to look like that all night?” Duncan’s voice growled low somewhere near him. “Or are you going to do something about it?”

Geoff shoved off of the pillar and very nearly marched directly over to where she sat, ignoring the whispers of people who saw where he was going, ignoring the people who darted out of his way after observing the expression on his face, and most of all ignoring how she was not even aware of it. She was apparently so absorbed in her conversation with John Godfrey that no one else existed, not even the others surrounding her. Funny, he never thought Godfrey had anything worth saying, but then, she had shown her tastes to be much different than he would have expected.

He stopped directly in front of her, despite the distinct lack of notice, and gave the most perfect bow he had ever bestowed on anyone. His mother would have shed a tear of pride. “Will you dance the next with me, Miss Hamilton?”

The buzz of conversation around her stopped and she reluctantly looked at him, her face as calm and composed as he had ever seen it. Only her eyes told him the truth; she was furious.

She looked him up and down once, as if in assessment. Then she offered the polite smile he had seen her use so often of late. “I pray you would excuse me, Mr. Harris. I fear the experience would not reflect well on either of us.”