her arms open, her…
“Did you hear what I said, Geoffrey?” His mother’s harsh question jerked him back to the moment.
“No.” He continued his climb.
“Geoffrey,” his mother cried. The soft thread of her slippers upon the marble steps confirmed her pursuit.
He hurried his steps.
“A kitchen maid heard from Lord Carmichael’s groom that you went swimming at Hyde Park and were touching that, that American woman. Whatever were you thinking? It is unfortunate enough I had to expect such scandals from your sister, but…you…?”
Geoffrey stopped so suddenly, his mother stumbled against him. He wanted to toss his head back and snarl at the mere mention of Lord Carmichael, that reprobate bastard. To think he’d ever considered for even an infinitesimal moment, wedding his sister Sophie to that fiend. He held a finger up. “First, I did not go for a swim. I fell into the lake.” A bloody lake he’d rushed into. That, however, was neither here nor there. “Second, that American woman is the cousin of the Duke of Somerset and some respect should be afforded the lady for the connection to that distinguished title.”
Considering any further discussion on the matter officially ended, Geoffrey continued his march. He reached the main hall when his mother called out to him.
“You do know what they say about American women. Nothing proper. They are a scandalous lot, Geoffrey. Why, even her name, Abigail. What decent Englishman and woman name their daughter after a lady’s maid?”
He fisted his hands, as a thin haze of rage descended over his vision. Geoffrey tamped down the immediate defense that sprung to his lips. To do so, however, would encourage Mother’s argument. And he’d long tired of discussing the matter with his mother.
Unfortunately, she seemed quite eager to continue the rather one-sided discourse. “You are the last male in line for the Redbrooke title. You mustn’t do something as…as foolhardy as to sully the title with American bloodlines. Why, her father is a footman.”
“Was a footman.”
Her eyes flew open with shocked outrage at his insolent response. “Are you making light of this situation?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
Her eyes narrowed as if trying to determine the veracity of his words.
“Mother, I’m wet. And cold.” He held a staying hand up when she made to speak. “I have no intention of wedding Miss Stone. I was retrieving something for the lady and I fell. There is nothing more to it than that. My interest lies with Lady Beatrice.”
Mother’s mouth formed a small moue of surprise. She blinked. “Truly? Because last evening the gossips reported your interest in that…Miss Stone, creature. I observed you myself, Geoffrey. You were staring.”
He gritted his teeth. “I do not stare.” Last evening he had. However, in the light of day he chose to blame such an uncharacteristic reaction on too much champagne. Only, he hadn’t had any spirits that morning, so how did one account for actions at Hyde Park? Geoffrey continued on toward his chambers.
His mother quickened her pace in a very un-viscountess-like manner to meet his long strides. “You are absolutely brilliant then! Why, of course Lady Beatrice, who is a perfect match for you, would be so very grateful that you should have helped her cousin retrieve…” Her brow furrowed. “What is it you helped the young woman retrieve?”
“A piece of lace,” he said, automatically, not thinking about how foolish his actions would appear until he’d spoken them aloud. Only, it hadn’t been any mere scrap of fabric but rather a token given by her family before she’d journeyed to London. Surely such an item merited him wading into the lake with all of Polite Society staring on?
They reached the door to Geoffrey’s chambers.
His mother wrinkled her nose. “Hmph. Regardless, it must have mattered to the young lady, and Lady Beatrice will surely know as much and be so grateful and…”
“Good day,
“Did you hear what I said, Geoffrey?” His mother’s harsh question jerked him back to the moment.
“No.” He continued his climb.
“Geoffrey,” his mother cried. The soft thread of her slippers upon the marble steps confirmed her pursuit.
He hurried his steps.
“A kitchen maid heard from Lord Carmichael’s groom that you went swimming at Hyde Park and were touching that, that American woman. Whatever were you thinking? It is unfortunate enough I had to expect such scandals from your sister, but…you…?”
Geoffrey stopped so suddenly, his mother stumbled against him. He wanted to toss his head back and snarl at the mere mention of Lord Carmichael, that reprobate bastard. To think he’d ever considered for even an infinitesimal moment, wedding his sister Sophie to that fiend. He held a finger up. “First, I did not go for a swim. I fell into the lake.” A bloody lake he’d rushed into. That, however, was neither here nor there. “Second, that American woman is the cousin of the Duke of Somerset and some respect should be afforded the lady for the connection to that distinguished title.”
Considering any further discussion on the matter officially ended, Geoffrey continued his march. He reached the main hall when his mother called out to him.
“You do know what they say about American women. Nothing proper. They are a scandalous lot, Geoffrey. Why, even her name, Abigail. What decent Englishman and woman name their daughter after a lady’s maid?”
He fisted his hands, as a thin haze of rage descended over his vision. Geoffrey tamped down the immediate defense that sprung to his lips. To do so, however, would encourage Mother’s argument. And he’d long tired of discussing the matter with his mother.
Unfortunately, she seemed quite eager to continue the rather one-sided discourse. “You are the last male in line for the Redbrooke title. You mustn’t do something as…as foolhardy as to sully the title with American bloodlines. Why, her father is a footman.”
“Was a footman.”
Her eyes flew open with shocked outrage at his insolent response. “Are you making light of this situation?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
Her eyes narrowed as if trying to determine the veracity of his words.
“Mother, I’m wet. And cold.” He held a staying hand up when she made to speak. “I have no intention of wedding Miss Stone. I was retrieving something for the lady and I fell. There is nothing more to it than that. My interest lies with Lady Beatrice.”
Mother’s mouth formed a small moue of surprise. She blinked. “Truly? Because last evening the gossips reported your interest in that…Miss Stone, creature. I observed you myself, Geoffrey. You were staring.”
He gritted his teeth. “I do not stare.” Last evening he had. However, in the light of day he chose to blame such an uncharacteristic reaction on too much champagne. Only, he hadn’t had any spirits that morning, so how did one account for actions at Hyde Park? Geoffrey continued on toward his chambers.
His mother quickened her pace in a very un-viscountess-like manner to meet his long strides. “You are absolutely brilliant then! Why, of course Lady Beatrice, who is a perfect match for you, would be so very grateful that you should have helped her cousin retrieve…” Her brow furrowed. “What is it you helped the young woman retrieve?”
“A piece of lace,” he said, automatically, not thinking about how foolish his actions would appear until he’d spoken them aloud. Only, it hadn’t been any mere scrap of fabric but rather a token given by her family before she’d journeyed to London. Surely such an item merited him wading into the lake with all of Polite Society staring on?
They reached the door to Geoffrey’s chambers.
His mother wrinkled her nose. “Hmph. Regardless, it must have mattered to the young lady, and Lady Beatrice will surely know as much and be so grateful and…”
“Good day,
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