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Chapter Eighteen

G eny was unable to think of anything but her conversation with John. Had she only imagined it, or had he truly said he would offer for her if she would only wait six months? But why six months? Did he think she would come to her senses and change her mind in that time? He did not know her very well if he thought that.

She had had plenty of opportunities to marry within society if she chose to, but no one had ever inspired her to take that leap. After dissecting every conversation she had shared with John—and reminiscing about the kisses that went with some of them—she was no more enlightened as to his possible meaning and knew she would need to speak to Margery to make sense of it. So when she heard the sounds of her friend’s arrival, she sat up, determined to broach the subject.

Margery bustled into the room, her cheerful greeting belying her claim that she was the laziest creature alive.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or are you truly sitting there with nothing to occupy you?” She untied her bonnet and lay it on the sofa next to her, then clasped her hands on her knees and leaned forward. “And my, don’t you look fetching today? It is a shame”—she looked behind her and saw that the butler had not quite left the room and waited until he had—“that no one of consequence is here to appreciate it.”

Geny smiled and shook her head, comforted by her friend’s prattle but consumed by what she considered to be a frustrating, unsolvable problem.

“I requested the servants to bring tea before you arrived, so we need not wait for it. I think you will like the cakes.”

“I am not discerning. I always like cake,” Margery replied with a fetching smile.

Geny looked at her more closely, at last perceiving how unusually cheerful Margery was, and she began to grow suspicious. “Have you finally opened up to Mr. Thompson’s courtship?”

Margery sat back with feigned surprise. “How could you accuse me of such a thing? You know I am never open to anyone’s courtship. Besides, how did you know he was courting me?”

Geny smiled and gave a small shrug, her own worries temporarily cast aside. “He and I had a little conversation, and he was quite transparent about his admiration for you.”

“I hope you did not fan the flames of that admiration,” she said severely.

Geny directed her stare at her friend, a smile lurking on her lips. “Would you really object if I had done so?”

Margery sighed loudly and reached for a cake, biting into it. “This is delicious.”

“ Hmm .” Geny would not press her. It was enough that Margery could not contain her happiness over finally returning a gentleman’s feelings. Geny knew her well enough to see that, and she would not push for more confidences.

She served the tea and took her own cake, astonished that she was hungry for it. She had been unable to eat of late, and she knew that her loss of appetite was due to her growing feelings for John.

This time, it was Margery who noticed that Geny was being unusually discreet, and she sent her a more searching glance.

“Something is amiss. I hope you will tell me what it is.” This was what Geny loved about Margery. She might seem frivolous, but she was a true friend when it mattered most.

Before confiding in her friend, she listened to the sounds outside of the drawing room to see if anyone was on the point of entering. Matthew had finally persuaded their father to take him out riding in his curricle. This was an extraordinary concession on the earl’s part, for Geny hardly remembered spending time with him even when her mother was alive, if it was not to go out into society. All was quiet and she decided it would be safe to talk.

“John—Mr. Rowles—and I have kissed.” Just uttering the words caused a deep blush to spread throughout her cheeks, and she looked up at Margery then hid her gaze, embarrassed. She mumbled the rest to her lap. “And I have fallen for him.”

Margery leaned forward, exclaiming in a whisper, “That is wonderful. Why do you look so miserable, then? I assume he would not be so lost to propriety as to kiss you and then not offer for you.” She gasped. “Or is it your father? Has Mr. Rowles approached the earl, and he refused?”

Geny did not have a chance to answer because Margery answered her own question. “Oh, but no, that cannot be, for you are free to marry anyone you like. Unless it is that you seek your father’s approval so much that…” She threw up her hands. “Oh, speak. Tell me what happened.”

Geny’s feelings were too raw to tease her and retort that she had been attempting to do so except she found it difficult to get the opportunity.

She pressed her fingers to her lips for a moment, then said, “He did not offer for me. He thinks it was wrong of him to have kissed me, and that as we are of two different spheres, nothing can come of it. He apologized.”

Margery groaned loudly and threw herself back on the sofa in a theatrical gesture then pulled herself back upright. “Oh, men. They haven’t a particle of common sense.”

Her friend’s reaction somehow eased Geny’s angst, and she drew a deep breath. “I am ashamed to admit it, but in our last meeting—he came with me to the classroom to help me hang the curtains there.” Geny froze for the space of a breath and bit her lip, remembering how fine he looked as he stretched over to insert the rods into the brackets. “I told him that I was the judge of whether or not we might suit when it came to social disparity.”

Margery beamed at her. “Well done, you. What then?”

“He relented and admitted he does have feelings for me and finds me tempting enough that he is trying to stay away from me. He requests that I wait six months before he makes me a proper proposal in case I should change my mind.”

This piece of news silenced Margery for a pregnant moment, and she stared at Geny with her mouth ajar.

“Six months? What an odd thing to say. Why does he think that would change anything?”

Geny could only shrug. “It is what I have been asking myself. I don’t understand why he would not just take his chances if I told him I did not need my father’s approval and that I did not consider our social distance to be an issue. To tell the truth, I am utterly at a loss.”

Margery sat, her cakes forgotten as she reflected on this. “I do not have an answer for you. There are no possible circumstances which can make me hazard a guess as to why he would propose such a thing. But if the man has any sense, he will take action well before six months have gone by. And if he doesn’t”—she lifted an eyebrow—“perhaps he is not the man for you.”

Geny was reluctant to agree with her friend, even though what she had said made perfect sense. It was just difficult to see clearly when love was involved.

“Perhaps.” With every ounce of will, she decided to direct the conversation elsewhere. “Now, I hope we can turn to other, more cheerful topics. Tell me what outings Mr. Thompson has escorted you to.”

Margery smoothly evaded the question by bringing up all the people she was forced to dance with at last night’s rout. With someone else, Geny might feel that the confidences were unbalanced, but she knew that her friend would end up confiding in her. It just took her a little longer to do so.

“Well, Mr. Thompson is coming for dinner tomorrow night, for one thing,” Margery finally confessed in the end. “So I shall be obliged to endure his courtship under the gaze of my five siblings and my two parents.” She smiled mischievously. “But then, if he is a worthy adversary, he will rise to the challenge.”

“Indeed,” Geny said laughing as she pictured the scene. Then she sobered and looked at her friend wistfully.

“You are very lucky though. Tomorrow night I shall also have someone over to dine, but it is not a man whose company I enjoy. It is to be none other than Lord Amherst.”

At this, Margery picked up another cake from the platter and set it on Geny’s plate. “I heartily sympathize with you. You had better take a bite of cake. I think you are going to need some sweetness to offset your bitter trial.”

Geny laughed as she obeyed. Bitter trial indeed.

The next day, Geny arranged the seating at the table as her father would expect. She had included Miss Purcell in the party, hoping that somehow Lord Amherst would be attracted to her fortune enough to leave off pursuing Geny. She was thinking of this when Matthew came to see her in the dining room.

“I’m glad I’m not old enough to have to attend the dinner, for I can think of nothing more tiresome than to sit with adults and talk about boring topics.”

“You are fortunate to be spared,” she agreed. “But remember your words when eventually you must endure one of these dinners. I charge you to carry on an interesting conversation with your female partners on both sides, so they do not regret the dinner or your company.”

“I cannot try too hard, or they might fall in love with me. And that would be worse than anything.” Matthew went over and twitched the curtain to look out on their narrow garden behind the house. “It is a fine day. Can you sit outside with me for a little while?”

Geny nodded and put down the list of all that needed to be prepared before that evening. Everything at the table was in order, and she knew her brother was lonely. She understood that feeling all too well and, as far as she was able, wished to be there for him.

When they sat on the stone bench that overlooked a fragrant climbing rosebush, Matthew drew circles in the dirt with a stick.

“Mr. Rowles has been teaching Gabriel and Timothy calculations. Gabriel likes it more than Timothy.”

She looked at him curiously. “When have you had a chance to speak to them about it?”

“Father took me to the asylum yesterday in his curricle. He said he wished to meet the new steward, but Mr. Rowles was not there. Father also wished to see that Gabriel had recovered. We found him in the steward’s office, and he was working at writing a row of sums with his left hand.”

Geny’s breath hitched when she thought of her father meeting Mr. Rowles. Would he see at first glance how noble, how worthy he was? Of course he would not think of him in any particular way, but only as an inconsequential steward working at a foundling asylum he did not care very much about. But still, the idea that John might meet her father eventually caused her heart rate to speed up.

She also wondered at her father’s interest in the orphan, that it was enough to pay him a visit. He could truly be considerate when he chose to. “Is Gabriel doing better, then?”

“Yes, better now that he is out of his bed, I should say. I asked Father if he is going to return to the orphanage so he might meet Mr. Rowles, and he said he supposed so at some point.” It did not sound very imminent.

“And you?” she could not help but to ask. “What do you think of Mr. Rowles?” Fortunately, Matthew did not read anything into her question.

“I like him. He seems to be a good steward and handled Gabriel’s injury well. Besides, he does not talk up to me as though he were afraid just because I am a peer.”

“Yes, he is a fine steward.”

This was all she would allow herself to say on the matter to a brother who was only ten. Besides, apart from Margery, she must not lay her heart bare to anyone else when her feelings had not been unequivocally reciprocated by the man himself.

Dinner that night was tolerable, but she quite thought her little brother had the right of it. Her father was a good host and made everyone feel welcome. Geny did her part as the hostess, little though she wished for the post. Of course, Lord Amherst must be seated at her right, but it was not very onerous. For the first three courses, it required little effort to converse with him, as he was principally involved with the fine cuts of meat on his plate.

She listened to Miss Purcell speaking to the marquess’s friend, Mr. Milton, although she sent surreptitious glances toward Lord Amherst. Geny could not understand what she saw in him, unless it was the desire to one day become a duchess.

That must be it. Despite being wealthy, Miss Purcell’s family had little ties to the peerage, and she likely thought that was the only thing that was missing—even if it meant being tied to a man who did not inspire Geny with any sentiment that was remotely tender.

As the women gathered in the drawing room for tea, allowing the men their port and cigars in the dining room, Miss Purcell took a seat beside her. They were the only two of the same age, so this was natural.

Miss Purcell looked at the four older women, then sent her gaze around the drawing room at large before bringing it to Geny. “I am much obliged to you for the invitation.”

“It was my pleasure.” She could not expand on that, for it would involve admitting she had few other acquaintances in society, and that Margery had not been welcome.

Geny rarely dwelled on the fact that she had never cultivated deeper friendships with anyone in the ton . In the early years, her mother’s death had stolen all desire to do so. Later on, when she finally looked to build possible friendships with other women, she discovered no one who shared her interests. After a few attempts, she gave up trying and was content with what she had with Margery. Now, she turned to her guest with a determination to be friendly and sent her a smile. Miss Purcell returned it.

“I was wondering if you would be interested in going with me tomorrow to visit a new haberdasher’s shop on St. James’s Street. My mother has given me pocket money expressly to purchase some items for the poor orphans.”

Geny looked at her in surprise, not having thought that Miss Purcell would in any way be interested in improving the lives of orphans. It made her glad she had invited her.

“I would be delighted to go with you. It was kind of your mother—and yourself—to think of such a thing. ”

Miss Purcell smiled. “It is settled, then. I will have the carriage sent around tomorrow at two thirty if that suits you. And I will have my maid with me, so you need not bring your chaperone if you do not wish it.”

After such a kind overture of friendship, Geny thought that perhaps it was time to dispense with formalities and said so. “If you wish, you may address me as Eugenia.”

“I am honored, my—” Miss Purcell stopped herself. “Eugenia. And of course I give you free use of my name.”

The servants came in carrying the tea, and Geny gestured to the table on one wall before turning back to Lucy. “I look forward to seeing what we might find for the orphans tomorrow.”

Geny congratulated herself on having included Lucy Purcell as part of the guest list the night before, for it meant that she was spared some of Lord Amherst’s focus when the men came in from their port. Lucy sought the marquess’s attention naturally, and not even Geny’s father appeared to notice her subtle intrusion into the planned courtship the marquess sought to conduct with his daughter.

The carriage arrived in the afternoon as promised, and the footman opened the door for Geny to exit into the outdoors. She looked up at a bright blue sky with white clouds that somehow brought out the vibrancy of spring colors all around her. This sight of renewal gave her hope, especially since she was to spend time with a young lady her father approved of, while also furthering her interests for the orphanage. Such happenstance made it seem as though a happy future would be possible—even one with John. The two notions did not naturally intersect and therefore made no sense, but it was how she felt .

As they rode to St. James’s Street, Geny was more voluble than usual and allowed her guard to come down. Their conversation remained impersonal, but she asked questions of Lucy and answered hers in return. Their time together was more agreeable than she would have expected.

Inside the haberdasher’s, they purchased needles and thread, along with a quantity of ribbons and buttons, all for a reasonable sum. And as they had spied a milliner’s farther down the street, they agreed to stop there afterwards for some shopping of their own.

They exited the milliner’s shop with their parcels, and Geny looked up at the budding trees, inhaling contentedly. Lucy was focused on the crowds milling on the street and slipped her arm through Geny’s to lean in.

“Do you know that man?”

Geny made the effort to look but could not see around Lucy.

“It is Mr. Aubin,” Lucy continued in a quiet voice, although he must have been too far to hear her. “He was shunned from society, and in fact it was at the hands of your father , the earl, for Mr. Aubin had made false claims about him.”

Before Geny could assimilate that piece of information, Lucy went on. “And he fleeced a man of his entire fortune in one night, so everyone agrees it is better that he has been turned out, for he is not a gentleman that anyone would wish to associate with. I do not know how he dares to show his face on St. James’s Street.”

Now Geny was even more curious to see who this Mr. Aubin was, having recognized the name. The only new piece of information that Lucy had given her was that it was her own father who had had him shunned from society. She had not known that.

She pulled out of Lucy’s grip and stepped back to peer down the street just as the gentleman turned his head. A look of shock, followed by alarm filled his features at the same time that recognition dawned on her.

Good heavens. No…

Not since the physician announced the news of her mother’s death did she feel as though the ground had opened up underneath her, pulling her into a black abyss.

Mr. Aubin was indeed none other than John Rowles.