CHAPTER19
“Head in the clouds, Berkley?”
Jeffrey came back to the present, looking across the green felt table of White’s at his friend, the Duke of Clarence. As always, the Duke's hair was perfectly coiffed, his clothing immaculate. The duke prided himself on his appearance, be it the outward physical traits or his own behavior.
“It’s not like you to be so distracted,” Clarence continued as he took a sip of his brandy. “But it seems to have become a habit of yours as of late.”
Jeffrey snorted. He was far too aware of the truth of his friend’s words, unfortunately. And it was all because of a certain Lady Phoebe Winters.
Today, he would have his answer. When he appeared on the steps of her foyer, she would tell him, one way or another, if she desired a life with him as his marchioness.
He could hardly believe that he was pursuing a woman who might potentially say no to him, to turn him down. He was a man to whom all should say yes. He could have any number of young women of thetonand had been pursued by them and their mothers for years now. Unfortunately none of them, however, held any appeal to him. Now, the fact that he was even entertaining this idea of marriage toPhoebe,who was far from a sure thing… he shook his head. But he couldn’t help it. He was infatuated with her.
“While I am not one to subscribe to the gossip columns or to listen in on women’s chatter, one would have to be deaf not to hear the rumors surrounding the Marquess of Berkley and a certain Lady Phoebe Winters. Dances, visits to the theatre, a dinner with your family at your home, a walk in Hyde Park. You have not exactly been discreet.”
“I did not know that I was required to be,” Jeffrey said moodily.
“Of course not,” Clarence said with a laugh. “I only meant that it is not difficult to sense the reason for your distress. You have a woman on your mind. Should that not, however, be cause for celebration? I cannot recall the last time you showed any more interest in an eligible woman than a dutiful dance or polite words at a party.”
Jeffrey paused for a moment before lifting his own drink to his mouth, draining the contents of the glass before setting it back down firmly on the table.
“I’ve asked her to marry me.”
Clarence choked on his brandy, nearly — but not quite — spewing the contents over his pristine white cravat. Jeffrey merely sat back and enjoyed the spectacle until Clarence finally collected himself.
“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “You certainly took some time to share your news. Congratulations, man.”
He held out his hand, but Jeffrey made no move to shake it.
“Hold onto that thought,” he said, “for the woman has yet to agree.”
“What?” Clarence frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean that I have not yet received an answer to my question,” he said slowly. “When I asked her, it was not entirely a fit moment to discuss the matter. She said she would provide me with a response later, and today I will determine exactly what that answer is.”
“She would be mad to refuse you,” Clarence remarked, to which Jeffrey nodded.
“That may be, but she can be an unpredictable woman,” he muttered. “Why I want her, the Lord only knows.”
Though that was not altogether true. He wanted her because she was bright, intelligent, honest, and remarkably alive.
“Well,” Clarence said, a wide smile on his face. “I wish you luck. And I sure as hell am glad that it is not me in your place.”
A few weeks ago, Jeffrey would have thought the exact same thing.
He bid Clarence farewell and rose to leave when the Earl of Totnes approached, a paper in hand and two lords Jeffrey recognized trailing behind him.
“Berkley! A moment?” he asked, and Jeffrey resumed his seat with both annoyance and trepidation. He knew all too well what this was about, and he would prefer not to have to discuss this, for he was just as disappointed as anyone that he had been far too remiss in finding answers.
“Yes?”
“Have you seen the latest rubbish to destroy these fine pieces of newsprint?” the earl asked, throwing the paper down upon the table between Jeffrey and Clarence as though it were covered in manure.
“As of this morning, I have not,” he admitted.
“Read it,” the earl commanded, and Jeffrey looked up at him, raising an eyebrow at the fact the man would dare to command him to do anything.
“If you would,” the earl amended, and Jeffrey opened the publication before him, perusing its contents.