“Hence the need to sneak out,” he said.
“I swear,” his mother said, “one of these days you’re going to make up an outrageous story and there will be just enough truth in it to make people believe you did something, whether you did it or not.”
That was precisely what he was afraid of.
They arrived home, and he said good night to the ladies, even though he had no intention of going to bed yet. Instead, he headed to his study to have his first whisky of the night. Almack’s was notorious for not providing spirits or wine because the Lady Patronesses wanted the men to be sober. How they expected a man, especially one who couldn’t dance, to endure that place sober was anyone’s guess. He’d begun to wish he’d brought a flask.
After pouring his glass of whisky, he collapsed in the comfortable chair he’d had transported from Newcastle. Good God, how he hated the round of parties, musicales, balls, fêtes, and whatever other nonsense London high society could dream up to plague him with. But he would keep doing it for Rosy.
Like a dog licking a sore, he got up and went to unlock the top desk drawer. For a moment, he just stared down at the letter. Then he drew it out, handling it carefully because he never wanted his repeated readings to damage it. He might one day need it, after all.
He’d read the damned thing a hundred times, but had still never found a solution to the dilemma Father had put him in. Not that his father had meant the letter to be a solution. No, indeed. His father had intended it to be insurance. Instead, it had become a two-edged sword that could slice Geoffrey’s life to ribbons no matter which way it cut.
Staring down at it, he realized he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to look at it tonight. He would much rather go to bed and dream of the lovely Diana, and her insistence that he and she find a way to swive.
He chuckled. The woman was quite the adventurer. After downing the rest of his whisky, he went upstairs to his bedchamber and undressed himself, because he’d given his valet the night off. Diana was the only good thing about this round of social nonsense. She made him laugh. She enticed him in a way no woman had ever done. He couldn’t believe that Englishmen had considered her unacceptable as a prospective wife because of some silly scandal that wasn’t even half as awful as the one he was hoping to spare her from enduring. But he was beginning to learn that aristocrats didn’t always make sense.
Her willingness to give her virtue to him made no sense either. Still, he was more than ready to instruct her in the bedroom arts, as long as he could do it without ruining her. She might not accept the idea that a chaste woman could be ruined, but it existed all the same, and he would do his damnedest to make sure that rumors of her desire to be deflowered never got out. He owed her that, at least.
The idea of her in his bed . . . Bloody hell, it made him hard again. He could still smell her, still feel her coming beneath his mouth, still hear the sweet little sounds of satisfaction she made. He couldn’t wait to have her in full.
Now he just had to figure out how to meet with her privately without raising anyone’s suspicion. It wasn’t as easy as it might seem. She had nosy sisters, and he had a nosy sister and mother both.
He lay in his bed, staring up at the canopy. The design was flowers of all sorts on a creamy background. He recognized the roses, geraniums, and daisies, but the other blooms were not as easy to tease out. It didn’t help that he knew little about gardening. He’d given the gardener for Grenwood House carte blanche to do anything with it so long as his sister approved. She was the gardener of the family.
Now he wondered if Diana liked gardens. She’d been keen to have the dinner outside, before the weather had turned too chilly. God knows there was plenty of acreage for it, even here in the midst of London. There were parts of the extensive gardens so private that . . .
That was it! He knew precisely how to get Diana alone without alerting any of their nosy family members or servants to what they were doing. He’d have to rise early, though. He needed to prepare.
He fell asleep still staring up at the canopy with a smile on his lips.
* * *
Late the next morning, Diana lay in bed, reliving every moment of her interaction with Geoffrey at the lodgings he had rented in the Almack’s building. But it wasn’t enough for her. She wanted to experience everything.
Ooh, it was so infuriating! A woman like her ought to be able to enjoy certain things without being branded for life. But as Geoffrey had said, that was the way the world worked, and no one was going to make an exception for her.
Frustrated, she rose and dressed, then headed downstairs for breakfast. She wasn’t surprised to find herself alone at the table. After being out late last night, everyone was sleeping until noon at least. Except her. Because she couldn’t sleep for thinking of how to see him privately again.
If she left the house alone, she‘d have to take a footman for propriety’s sake—for safety’s sake, to be honest—and footmen weren’t as discreet as they should be. At the very least, the servant would tell her sisters about her jaunt if she went anywhere but to Grenwood House for an appointment.
Very well. Then she’d go to Grenwood House. And if she left while everyone was still abed here, she wouldn’t have to endure an onslaught of questions about why and where she was going. Not to mention her sisters’ endless teasing about her and the duke, whom they were convinced was on the verge of marrying her or ruining her. Which one they chose depended on the day, the time, the weather, and Lord knew what else, probably which way the wind blew.
She would merely leave a note saying she’d gone to Grenwood House to consult with Geoffrey’s mother about Rosy’s upcoming ball. That was vague enough, wasn’t it?
She hurried about and was surprised she was able to be off fairly quickly. That was what happened when you didn’t have to manage two drowsy sisters. It was nearly noon by the time she arrived at Grenwood House. Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite sure what she meant to do now that she was there.
Fortunately, Geoffrey practically met her at the door. “I see you got my message.”
“Your message?”
“Never mind.” He cast a veiled glance at the various servants hovering close by, eager to see any confrontation between him and Diana. “You’re here. That’s all that matters. Do walk with me. I had an epiphany about your idea of having the ball supper outdoors, weather permitting. The date for the ball coincides with the full moon, you know.”
“I do know. That’s why we picked it.” When had she ever considered having the ball supper outdoors? Because whenever that was, she’d been daft or foxed to think it. Everyone’s dancing shoes would be like paper on the gravel garden paths. The only reason it would have worked for last week’s dinner was they could have confined it to the terrace, which had a smooth marble surface.
But with two hundred guests, that wouldn’t be possible. The terrace simply wasn’t large enough.
“This way, Lady Diana,” he said, offering her his arm. “I’ll have to show you.”