The Marrying Season (22 page)

“The man has to be taught that he cannot treat my sister that way,” Alec told her sharply.

“My wife,” Myles corrected in a calm but firm tone. When Alec turned toward him, somewhat surprised, Myles continued, “I respect your sentiments, Alec, but Genevieve is my wife now. And it is my place to take care of her.”

Alec looked as if he might argue, but then he gave a short nod. “You are right, of course. How can I help?” He looked to Myles.

Genevieve crossed her arms, irritation rising in her at the way the two of them were claiming ownership of the issue. Of her.

“I want the name of your Bow Street runner,” Myles told Alec. “I went out last night to see if I could find out anything about Langdon, but no one has seen him since that night.”

“You went looking for him?” Genevieve asked. “You didn’t tell me you were going to.”

Myles glanced at her, startled. “Well, not the sort of thing one talks about to a lady.”

“I’ll be glad to give you my runner’s name,” Alec put in. “In fact, I’ll take you to meet him this evening and we’ll set him to finding Langdon.”

“Excellent. Do you think we—”

“And I, I suppose, have nothing to say about the matter?” Genevieve asked in an icy voice. “Of course, why should I? I am only the one whose reputation was damaged.”

Her brother and her husband turned to look at her in some surprise.

“But, Genevieve, surely you can’t expect us to ignore this,” Myles said. “We shan’t be indiscreet, I promise you.”

“Of course not,” Alec agreed. “Parker knows how to keep his mouth shut; I have used him before.”

“I don’t expect you to ignore it,” Genevieve said. “But has it occurred to you that I might like to confront this man myself? I want to go with you to meet the runner. Oh, do stop gaping at me, both of you. Why shouldn’t I be involved?”

“Genevieve, I meet him at a tavern by the docks,” Alec said. “It’s not the sort of place for you.”

“Oh, I see, it’s not appropriate—unlike all those places you took Damaris last year when those men were chasing you.”

“That was different.”

“In what way?”

“Well, um, Damaris is not—I mean, she was—we were—” Alec stumbled to a halt and turned to Myles.

“Genevieve, it just isn’t done,” Myles protested. “What would your grandmother say?”

“My grandmother? I am a grown woman. Married, in
case you have forgotten. Am I still required to live by my grandmother’s dictates? Oh, and yours, of course.”

“But it’s hardly something that you would wish to do.” Myles looked puzzled.

“No doubt you would know that better than I. Just as you knew last night I would not want to be told you were going out to search for Langdon. And I would have no interest, of course, in hearing what the results of that search were. It has long been my preference to sit in ignorance, waiting for someone else to take care of my worries.”

“You sat up waiting for me?” Myles asked, surprised. “My dear, I am sor—”

“I did
not
sit up waiting for you!” Genevieve snapped, slapping her napkin down on the table and shoving her chair back sharply.

“You would probably prefer to discuss this between yourselves,” Alec began, rising hastily to his feet.

“Coward,” Myles muttered.

“Oh, no, Alec, pray do not bother,” Genevieve told him with exaggerated sweetness. “You and Myles should continue to decide my life for me. I shall just go tend to my little ‘women’s business.’ ” She stalked to the door and turned. “I hope it is appropriate if I look at your house this morning, Myles. Since my grandmother will be along, it should not be too scandalous. But you might want to send word to your man of business, giving me permission to look at it. I should not want to step out of line.” She closed the door behind her with a snap.

I
did warn you she
had the Stafford temper,” Genevieve heard her brother say before she strode off down the hall. She thought of turning back to give Alec a piece of her mind, too, but she decided that would only reinforce the idea that her temper was at fault. She stalked down the hall and up the stairs. At the top she ran into Damaris, who looked lovely and rosy-cheeked and not at all in the fragile state Alec had drawn of her.

“Genevieve!” Damaris’s smile fell away as she took in Genevieve’s scowl. “Oh, dear. Should I not go down?”

“Not unless you enjoy eating your meal with two of the most obtuse, irritating men in the city.”

“Ah. Well.” Damaris turned and fell into step beside her. “I wasn’t interested in eating anyway. I was going there to see you.”

“I fear I am not very good company, either.”

“What happened? Are they arguing? I’m terribly sorry; I did not mean to break your confidence. It’s most irritating; Alec knows me all too well. I find it’s difficult to hide anything from him. But I thought
Myles had explained everything, and Alec was not angry with him.”

“Oh, no, they are not angry with each other. The two of them are quite happily making plans for dealing with my life. There’s no need to apologize.
You
are not at fault.”

“Ah. I see.” Damaris nodded wisely. “They are ‘protecting’ you.”

Genevieve snorted inelegantly. “They are plotting revenge on Mr. Langdon.
I
am the one who was wronged! But apparently I am too delicate and refined to confront the man myself.” She stopped and swung around to face Damaris. “He had the nerve to tell me that it just wasn’t done. Myles! Lecturing to me on what is proper and what isn’t!”

“Men can be most aggravating,” Damaris agreed, and took Genevieve’s arm, leading her down the hallway to the upstairs sitting room.

“Of course, it’s all part and parcel of the rest of it. Myles has been in a mood since he heard about the note.”

“I am sure he is angry at Langdon for playing such a trick on you.”

“He is looking for Langdon to take it out on, but it is me at whom he’s angry.”

“You? But why?”

“I don’t know!” Genevieve cried, pleased to find someone who understood her side of the matter. “He says I should have known he wouldn’t have sent me the note. But it isn’t as if I thought he had some wicked intent by doing it. I presumed he needed to tell me something in a more private way than the dance floor allowed. Is that wrong?”

“No, of course not,” Damaris agreed soothingly.

“What would he have had me do? Ignore an urgent missive from him? How was I to know it wasn’t in his hand? It isn’t as if I’d had any letters from him. And when I pointed that out, all he could say was of course he wouldn’t have written me any letters, he wouldn’t set out to damage a girl’s reputation—as if I had suggested he had!”

“It sounds as if he was being most unreasonable.”

“Exactly.” Genevieve nodded emphatically. “Then he was upset because I had not told him about the note. But why would I have told him? I thought he was the one who sent it to me. I was careful
not
to say anything about it because I didn’t want him to think I blamed him for what happened. I was trying to be fair. To be nice.” She grimaced. “For all the good it did me.”

“I have found that men are . . . imperfect when it comes to telling you how they feel. Or even being aware of it themselves. I suspect Myles was upset because of what happened to you and because he was not there to prevent it. Worse, it was the use of his name that lured you into it. I think Alec often flares into anger because he is frightened.”

“Alec? Frightened?” Genevieve asked dubiously.

“He has little fear for himself. But when he thinks of something happening to me, it scares him, especially when it is something he cannot control. That is why he is in such a twitter about my ‘condition.’ He cannot protect me from harm, so he fusses until it’s enough to drive me mad.” Damaris smiled fondly. “He is furious that he cannot
convince the best doctor in London to spend the next six months in Northumberland looking after my lying-in. But I know his anger is because he feels helpless. I am sure Myles must feel that way, too, about not keeping you from harm.”

“But Alec loves you. Myles and I are not like that.”

“Oh, Genevieve . . .” Damaris took both Genevieve’s hands in hers. “I am sure Myles cares for you.”

“I am sure he does, as I care for him, of course.” Genevieve turned away, going over to the window. “We have known each other these many years past. We are friends, but it is not the same as you and Alec.” She thought with a pang of Myles’s leaving the house the previous night. “He went out looking for Mr. Langdon yesterday,” she went on, her words following her thoughts. “There is nothing wrong with that, of course. I don’t expect Myles to sit in my pocket. But he did not tell me where he was going or what he planned. He did not ask me even one question about what I wanted to do about Mr. Langdon.”

“Even though you are the person who was injured by Mr. Langdon.”

“Exactly.” Genevieve swung back around. “Myles wanted to come to London all by himself! I had to insist on accompanying him. Now he and Alec are going to meet with that Bow Street runner to set him to finding Langdon. But of course I cannot go with them; it would be indecent. Do you know Myles had the effrontery to ask me what my grandmother would say about my behaving that way?”

“Oh, my.” Damaris shook her head. She thought for a moment. “You know, there might be other ways to go about finding out what happened and where Mr. Langdon is. Things women might be handier at discovering.”

“What do you mean?” Intrigued, Genevieve came over to sit down beside her sister-in-law.

“Mr. Langdon couldn’t have just given the note to you himself, so there must be someone else involved.”

“Just a maid.” Genevieve straightened. “But of course. It’s possible she might have known more about it. Perhaps she even knew him. I cannot remember exactly what she said when she handed it to me.”

“It must have been one of Thea’s servants,” Damaris pointed out. “We can visit Thea and talk to the girl.”

“Of course!” Genevieve popped to her feet. “We’ll go—no, wait, I told Grandmama we would go look at the Thorwood house today. Myles set his man of business to having it made ready for us to live in—Myles’s mother never came to London after his father died, so Myles didn’t bother to open up the place just for himself. The countess was quizzing Myles about it this morning at breakfast.” The memory of Myles’s harried expression brought a smile to her lips. “So I told her she and I would inspect it—you will come, too, I hope. But I can’t change my plans.”

“No, that won’t do. It will keep. We shall call on Thea tomorrow.”

Genevieve’s grin widened. “I would like to see Myles’s expression if we manage to find out something he can’t.”
Impulsively she reached out and took Damaris’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now . . . let’s go inspect your new home.”

Tompkins, Myles’s man of business,
met the ladies at Thorwood Place, smiling and eager to please. Genevieve could see that he had been not only fast, but competent as well. The house had obviously been scrubbed top to bottom, and he had already hired a skeleton staff of servants. The butler, Bouldin, was a lean, young-looking man with a sparkle in his eyes that betokened a sense of humor. The housekeeper, Mrs. Aycott, on the other hand, was thoroughly no-nonsense.

“I did not change anything, only retouched things here and there,” Tompkins assured Genevieve. “If there is anything you should like done a different way, ma’am, you need only tell me. Sir Myles instructed me to implement whatever you requested.”

“It is lovely,” Genevieve replied. “I am tempted to move in immediately.”

Mr. Tompkins appeared faintly surprised at her statement, but said only, “Certainly, if you wish it.”

Genevieve started to explain that she had not been serious, but stopped. Actually, now that she thought about it, she realized that it was exactly what she would like to do. She cast a questioning look at the butler. “Would that be possible?”

“Of course, madam. Shall I tell Henri to prepare a supper menu for your approval?” Bouldin replied calmly.

“Yes, that would be excellent.” Genevieve smiled and turned toward Damaris. “It is not that I am unmindful of your generosity, but—”

Damaris laughed. “No, indeed, I understand. Of course you would wish to set up household as soon as you can.”

Genevieve’s grandmother looked less certain, but she said nothing. As Bouldin went off to confer with the chef, Mrs. Aycott escorted them upstairs to show off her domain. The dustcovers had been taken off the furniture, and the bedrooms gleamed just as much as had the ground floor. One or two of the chambers were somewhat bare of furniture, but the master’s bedroom at the back of the house was fully furnished and ready for occupancy.

“A very nice bedroom for Sir Myles,” Genevieve’s grandmother pronounced as she surveyed the room, partially paneled with a dark, rich wood and the rest painted a deep hunter green. A wingback chair of matching green leather stood near the window, which overlooked the small garden behind the house.

“Yes. Quite elegant.” Genevieve idly opened one door to reveal a dressing room. The door on the opposite wall proved to lead into another bedroom. Almost as large as the first room, it was tastefully decorated in blues and creams.

“Oh, your chamber is lovely, Genevieve!” her grandmother said with delight, coming up beside her.

It was silly, Genevieve thought, to be taken aback at
the thought of her bedroom. Of course, she and Myles would have separate rooms here, as they had at Alec’s house. They had shared a bedroom at Thorwood Park only because Genevieve had not wanted to offend Lady Julia. She had always intended to have her own bedroom in this house. She looked forward to it.

“Yes. It is most attractive.” Genevieve walked farther into the room. If her bedroom was a mite remote and cool also, well, that was the style she preferred, wasn’t it?

It was nonsensical to feel this pang at the thought of no longer sharing a bedroom with Myles. One wouldn’t want his boots and shaving equipment and such cluttering up one’s room. And it would be a dreadful nuisance for him to come in after a long night of being out with his friends, bumbling about and waking her up.