Page 20 of Two Secrets to Surrender (Blackwood Legacy #2)

Chapter Nineteen

T he opening gala was a smashing success.

With Letty beside her, Gigi surveyed the packed pump room, which served as an elegant assembly area. The chandelier sparkled, and the circle of Roman deities on the upper floor turned beneficent smiles upon the guests. The crowd was a mix of villagers and visitors from London, and many were whirling to the strains of a local quartet. Letty had also hired a dozen waiters for the event. Dressed in crisp black uniforms and white gloves, they circulated with trays of drinks and assisted at buffet tables, which included delicacies provided by the Leaning House, the Briarbush Inn, and Mr. Khan.

“Thank heavens for Mr. Godwin,” Letty said in an undertone. “I don’t know how we would have managed without his help. We cannot keep the champagne fountain filled quickly enough, and the spa is shipshape, inside and out.”

After their steamy billiards game, Gigi and Conrad had relaxed in front of the fire, enjoying refreshments and a cozy chat. She’d told him about the problems at the spa, to which he’d replied, “ I’ll take care of it. ” As they’d gone on to discuss other things, she hadn’t thought much about it. Until a day later, when a cart bearing crates of champagne had arrived at the bath’s doorstep.

“ There’s enough to float a battleship! ” Letty had nearly done a jig.

Soon thereafter, workers had started arriving. According to Cobbins, the team of ratcatchers from London was famous. They’d brought a pack of compact, white-and-brown dogs—“ Descendants of Billy, the greatest ratting terrier of all time! ” Cobbins had breathed in awe. He and his canine Bobby had trailed the team, picking up tricks. Within a day, the vermin had vanished.

Meanwhile, at the back of the spa, a half-dozen gardeners had assisted Owen. Apparently, the fellows worked with Joseph Paxton, the esteemed designer of the Crystal Palace and notable landscaper. The leader of the group had praised Owen’s design, declaring it “a triumph of balance between nature and man.” He’d invited Owen to stop by the firm when he was in London, and Gigi had been thrilled to see the rare smile that lit up her brother’s gaunt features.

Everything was going smoothly, in no small part because of Conrad. Gigi hadn’t had a chance to thank him in person yet, but his generosity had prompted her to take the next step. She’d sent him a note via Kenny (who’d finagled ongoing lessons from Conrad and thought he walked on water). In her message, she’d asked if Conrad would like to meet her family at the gala. A part of her fretted that it was too soon, but his reply had reassured her:

Say the word, sweetheart. I am ready when you are.

Gigi had strategized the best way to make the introductions. Good thing she was a schemer.

She turned to Letty. “Should we review how you will introduce Mr. Godwin to my parents?”

“Don’t fret, my dear.” Letty tapped her gloved fingertips against her temple. “I have it all up here. I am to make the introduction seem casual and say he is a friend of the spa, which is the truth. I am indebted to Mr. Godwin…and to you. Your friendship and happiness mean everything to me, and I will not let you down.”

Gigi squeezed her friend’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Thank you , dearest. Now enjoy yourself, and I will bring your handsome devil to you and your parents after he arrives.”

Gigi circulated, chatting with friends from London and extolling upon the virtues of the spa and local businesses. During a lull, she enjoyed a break with her parents, who’d arrived yesterday. She stood with them in an alcove, watching as guests lined up at the pump to sample the famous water straight from the source.

“I am proud of you, dear.” Resplendent in an indigo gown that complemented her curves and upswept raven hair, Mama said warmly, “Your gala is a smashing success.”

“The credit belongs to Miss Letty,” Gigi demurred. “I merely helped with a few details.”

Mama’s violet eyes twinkled. “Well, whoever decided to incorporate souvenirs into the décor was a genius.”

Building upon the success of her marketing scheme, Gigi had decorated with the theme of romance in mind. She’d ordered figurines of the star-crossed lovers from the local potter and sprinkled them throughout the room. The menu cards at the buffet table were written on a lovely cream cardstock engraved with a sketch of the lovers. The tinted pink glasses used to serve the water came from a nearby manufacturer. Guests who admired the items could find them all in the gift shop, along with other merchandise made by Chuddums’s artisans.

Gigi smiled with satisfaction. “Thank you, Mama. I learned from the best.”

“You certainly did.” Papa, whose formal evening wear suited his austere handsomeness, put an arm around Mama’s waist. “Your mama isn’t London’s most sought-after hostess for nothing.”

“You are exaggerating, Marcus,” Mama protested.

“Pandora, my love, there are two things in life that are impossible to exaggerate—your social acumen and your beauty.”

Papa gallantly kissed Mama’s hand. While Gigi was accustomed to her parents’ open affection, her recent experiences gave her a new awareness of their intimacy. Papa’s head remained bent over Mama’s hand a moment longer than necessary, and although his expression was stoic, there was a glint in his steel-blue eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. Mama, for her part, was blushing like a newlywed.

Eww. Stop noticing your parents flirting.

Gigi thought of Conrad, her pulse quickening. Introducing him to her parents was a big step, yet it felt…right. At the very least, it didn’t make her feel like running for the hills. Anyway, if she ran, Conrad would undoubtedly give chase. A depraved image from The Naughty Naiad fogged her brain, heat blooming inside her. She still couldn’t believe that Conrad had shown her the erotic book…or how titillating she’d found it.

Realizing that her father was addressing her, she tamped down a guilty blush.

“You have inherited your mama’s charm, Gigi,” he said. “How fetching you look.”

“Thank you, Papa. This dress is courtesy of Mrs. Sommers.” She beamed at him. “And it will require only the teensiest supplementation of my pin money this month.”

Papa raised his brows. “Define teensiest.”

“Now, darling,” Mama said. “You know how important it is to support local businesses. Moreover, Mrs. Sommers charges a fraction of what the modistes in London do, and that dress makes our Gigi look like an angel. Don’t you agree that the effect of the silver netting over that water-blue satin is exquisite?”

The dress was heavenly, with its demure off-the-shoulder neckline, fitted bodice, and wide, frothy skirts. Colette had secured Gigi’s hair in a topknot, leaving dangling ringlets to frame her face. Fresh flowers, white silk gloves, and a pearl necklace completed the look. When Mama gave her a subtle nudge, Gigi performed a graceful pirouette.

“I am no arbiter of fashion, but as a former military man, I avoid fighting losing battles,” Papa said wryly. “Which is all battles where the two of you are concerned.”

“In that case, Papa.” Gigi extended one elegantly shod foot. “I hope you do not mind that I ordered matching shoes as well.”

“Those buckles are exquisite,” Mama exclaimed. “I shall have to order a pair myself.”

Papa’s sigh was that of the long-suffering. “Since I risk becoming a pauper if this conversation continues, I shall make myself useful and fetch some champagne.”

“That would be lovely, darling,” Mama agreed.

After Papa strode off, Gigi looked at her mother, and they burst into giggles.

“Don’t mind Papa,” Mama said. “You know he enjoys indulging us.”

“I know.” Seeing the glow on her mother’s beautiful face, Gigi felt her heart lift. “You look well. The time away did you good.”

“As usual, Papa had the right of it.” Her mother’s smile turned wistful. “I did need some time to collect myself after Sister Agatha’s passing.”

Last year, Sister Agatha, the abbess at the Society of St. Margery and one of Mama’s closest friends, had passed away peacefully in her sleep. Although Gigi had only met Sister Agatha a handful of times, she’d felt the strength of the bond between her mother and the older lady with the kind brown eyes. The loss had hit Mama hard; for weeks, she hadn’t seemed herself. Finally, Papa had insisted on taking her on a relaxing trip to the Cotswolds, and Gigi was relieved to see the return of her mama’s sparkle.

“I have missed you, dear.” Mama squeezed her hand. “And your brothers. You shall have to catch me up on the latest developments.”

All her life, Gigi had confided in her mama. However, her relationship with Conrad was complicated. As understanding and loving as Mama was, she was also a paragon. She was everything a true lady ought to be, and Society revered her for it. Unfortunately, that made it more difficult for Gigi to confess her own improper inclinations.

Luckily, she was interrupted by Ethan and Xenia. Ethan cut a dashing figure in his stark evening clothes. He was the perfect foil for his wife, who was as bright as a flame in a gown of crimson velvet.

“That dress is most becoming, Xenia, dear,” Mama said with a smile. “Ethan, you shall be fighting off gentlemen who wish to dance with your wife.”

Ethan looked rather smug. “Xenia promised her dances to me.”

“You mustn’t monopolize your wife,” Mama chided. “No more than two dances— at most .”

“But I don’t wish to dance with anyone but Ethan.” Unused to the intricacies of Society’s rules, Xenia looked puzzled. “Why can I only dance twice with him?”

“Any more dances and people will say you are overly devoted and living in each other’s pockets,” Gigi explained.

“Oh.” Xenia’s brown eyes widened. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” Ethan said.

“Yes,” Gigi and Mama said at the same time.

Papa returned with the champagne.

“Marcus, do tell Ethan he mustn’t monopolize Xenia’s dances,” Mama begged.

“Relinquishing one’s favorite dance partner is a necessary fact of life, son.” Papa distributed the glasses. “However, I do have a suggestion.”

Ethan raised his brows.

“Claim the waltzes,” Papa advised. “The longer, the better.”

“Really, darling. What kind of example are you setting?” Blushing, Mama said, “Has anyone seen Owen?”

“We saw him when we were coming in,” Xenia said. “He was fiddling with the hedges. Said they weren’t quite right.”

“Some deer trampled Miss Letty’s garden, and Owen fixed the damage,” Gigi clarified. “He was quite the hero.”

Papa cleared his throat. “It’s nice to know the lad is making himself useful.”

“Owen always preferred being outdoors.” Mama’s smile was poignant. “He loved climbing trees and was fascinated with how things grew. Remember how he used to follow the groundskeeper around at the country seat?”

“I had forgotten,” Ethan replied. “James and I teased him, calling him ‘Capability Harrington.’”

Gigi had been too young to remember those days. With a pang, she wished she’d had more time with Owen before he’d gone off to war. Better yet, she wished he hadn’t gone to war…wished he could be the happy, carefree, and rambunctious boy he’d once been. Yet confiding in Conrad had given her greater clarity when it came to her family. There were things she could not change. But she would always be there for them, should they seek her help.

James sauntered over. As ever, he was the epitome of the perfect heir with his precise cravat and elegant tailoring.

“Congratulations on your latest project, little sister,” he drawled. “Once again, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Before Gigi could thank him, Mama cut in.

“Dearest, who is that lady in green?” she asked casually. “The one you were chatting with by the pump. I do not believe I am acquainted.”

Gigi hadn’t noticed James talking to anyone, but now she darted a glance over to the water station. A statuesque brunette in emerald-green taffeta was sipping on a glass of water as a circle of gentlemen vied for her attention.

Above his pristine collar, James’s jaw turned slightly ruddy. “Her name is Lady Morgana Vernon. I just met her myself. She had difficulty with the pump, so I offered my assistance.”

“Naturally,” Mama murmured. “You are a gentleman like your papa.”

A sudden visceral awareness gripped Gigi, and she swung her gaze toward the entrance. Sure enough, there was Conrad. Despite the striking elegance of his black-and-white attire, he looked like a Viking surveying the spoils of a raid. His marauder’s gaze locked boldly upon her, and she experienced the primal instinct to run: toward or away from him, she wasn’t entirely certain.

He strode to Letty, bowing over her hand. Even from a distance, Gigi could see the blush on her friend’s cheek. Then the pair headed over.

She drew in a deep breath. Relax and act naturally.

“My lords and my ladies,” Letty said formally. “May I have the pleasure of introducing Mr. Conrad Godwin. He is a supporter of the spa, and no small part of tonight’s success must be attributed to his generosity.”

“It is an honor to make your acquaintances, Lord and Lady Blackwood.” Conrad bowed to Gigi’s parents before turning to her brothers and Xenia. “And yours, my lords and my lady.”

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Godwin.” Papa’s expression was impassive. “The London papers are full of your exploits.”

Gigi tensed, and that was before Ethan spoke up.

“Exploits that have no place in our village,” her middle brother said in a dangerous tone.

Gigi shot Xenia a worried look. Her sister-in-law’s slight shake of the head confirmed that she hadn’t informed Mama and Papa about Gigi’s encounter with Conrad at the spa. Nonetheless, Ethan’s hostility might give away the game if Gigi didn’t intervene.

“Such talk is often exaggerated,” Conrad replied.

He did not seem the least bit intimidated by Ethan’s scowling countenance.

“I wonder what interest a rustic village like Chuddums might hold for a man of your reputation,” James said coolly.

“I am aware that some have questioned my business methods.” A hint of brusqueness entered Conrad’s tone. “However, what they call ruthlessness, I call ambition. I make no apologies for being a fellow who knows what he wants and goes after it.”

To Gigi’s thrill and dismay, he looked directly at her. Ethan, James, and Papa were all glowering at him. Flustered, she racked her brain for some way to defuse the tension.

“Did I miss something?”

Joining the group, Owen looked confused. His evening wear looked rumpled on his lanky form, and there were traces of soil on his cuffs. In one hand, he clutched a trio of white camellias.

“Owen, we were wondering where you were.” Gigi leapt at the opportunity to change the topic. “Are those flowers from the garden?”

“The camellia bushes needed trimming, and I thought you, Xenia, and Mama might like these for corsages.” Owen’s stormy grey gaze was fixed on Conrad. “Who are you?”

“This is Mr. Godwin.” To Gigi’s relief, Mama stepped in, her manner smooth and gracious. “He has been helping Miss Letty with the spa. Mr. Godwin, this is my youngest son, Lord Owen Harrington.”

“A pleasure, sir,” Conrad said.

“Likewise,” Owen returned.

“The camellias are lovely, dear.” Smiling at him, Mama said, “Why don’t you help Gigi with hers while Ethan attends to Xenia? Marcus, I shall require your assistance.”

As the men set about their duties, Gigi gave her mother a grateful look. Mama nodded, but the glint in those maternal eyes implied that they would be talking later.

While Owen pinned the bloom to her bodice, Gigi risked a glance at Conrad. His jaw was taut, his gaze distinctly proprietary. For an instant, she feared he might tear the flower from her brother and insist on pinning it to her himself.

So much for a casual introduction.

“It is almost time for my speech,” Letty said hastily. “Mr. Godwin, may I bother you to help me assemble the guests?”

Conrad gave a reluctant nod. “It is no bother, ma’am.”

He went with Letty, sending a smoldering look back at Gigi.

Things are not going as planned, Conrad thought broodingly.

He was seated on a small dais, waiting for Miss Letty’s speech to begin. Rows of guests faced the stage, and he fought to keep his anger from showing. He had to give it to Gigi: she knew how to put on a good performance. The statues of the Roman gods along the upper gallery lent gravitas to the event. Directly above him was Mars—fitting, given his pugilistic mood.

While Conrad knew it was important to make a good impression on Gigi’s family, he had no talent for pouring on the butter boat. Her menfolk hadn’t hidden their disdain, and he had a lifelong habit of never backing down from snobs. It stung that they’d judged him because of his origins. Because they believed him to be a social climber who wanted to get his grubby hands on Gigi.

Once they know who I really am, they will be singing a different tune .

He comforted himself with the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to keep his secrets much longer. Justice would soon be his, and after that, the damned Harringtons would be falling over to welcome him into their family. He glanced at Gigi. She was seated on the other side of the stage, having an animated conversation with her brothers. It was clear that the Harringtons were a close-knit bunch, and Conrad wasn’t certain that even the strongest passion would convince Gigi to choose him over them.

If you don’t bind her fully to you, you will lose her.

He felt a flash of panic, which was quickly subsumed by righteous anger. Gigi was his . She’d shared physical intimacies and confidences with him. Though they hadn’t spoken of love, he was quite certain that she was falling for him as he’d fallen for her. Maybe he needed to hasten things along by getting her to admit to her feelings…

Miss Letty took center stage, clutching a roll of parchment. “To my esteemed guests, thank you for your patronage. If I may, I would like to say a few words.” When she untied the paper, it unraveled, brushing the ground. “I shall start with a brief history of this remarkable building.”

As Letty waxed on about Tobias Caldecott’s vision, Gigi cast covert glances in Conrad’s direction. He appeared to be politely interested in the speech, but his rigid posture revealed his true state of mind. He was furious. While she understood his reaction, she was annoyed too.

Did he have to be so heavy-handed with my family? Especially after I warned him to take things slowly. Now I must fix the damage he’s caused with his boorish behavior.

As she cast her gaze upward in disgust, a movement caught her attention…a flicker in the shadowed second-floor gallery, behind the statue of Mars. Concerned that a guest might have ventured up into the area, which was cordoned off due to needed repairs, she craned her neck, but she couldn’t see beyond the God of War’s looming figure.

She blinked. Had the grim-faced statue teetered ? It must have been a trick of the light… Then she caught the flash of something black and white against the stone back, and Mars pitched forward with ominous momentum. With jolting terror, she registered the statue’s deadly trajectory and leapt to her feet.

“Conrad, move!” she cried. “The statue is going to fall!”

He looked up just as Mars toppled.