A Wedding in Springtime (21 page)

“Thanks, Jem,” came a whispered response. Jem curled into a ball and went to sleep, trying not to hear the faint crying from one of the younger boys. The older ones knew better than to waste their tears.

***

The sun was shining brightly and Genie awoke with a smile on her face. She could not help it, her first thought was of Grant. She gave herself a mental shake and tried to redirect her thoughts toward Mr. Blakely. He was a kind man and not afraid of her guidebook, which could only recommend him. As her maid assisted her into a morning dress of light blue, she had to continue to remind herself which man held precedence in her thoughts. Despite her determination, it took some mental effort to direct her thoughts toward Mr. Blakely, a practice that made her weary even at the breakfast table.

Somewhere over crumpets and eggs, she saw a red head peek through the front window. “Excuse me!” she exclaimed and hustled to the garden, where she found the expected Jem. Did he have a message for her from Grant or her brother?

“Jem! Are you well?”

“Yes’m. Gots a message for you.” The boy handed her a neat envelope. Jem on the other hand, was less than tidy.

“Why, Jem. What has happened to your new clothes? They are so dirty. You must take better care of yourself.”

“Yes, milady.” The boy hung his head.

“Now do not be discouraged. I understand it is hard for little boys to stay clean. You must try your best. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded and ground a booted toe into the dirt.

Genie opened the letter and was a bit disappointed to find it was not from Grant. The missive was from Mr. Blakely, suggesting they meet at Marchford house to discuss the guidebook without the danger of Lady Bremerton’s disdain.

“Tell the man who gave you this letter that I will meet him at Marchford house during morning calls, do you understand?”

Jem nodded, but evaded her eye. “Wouldn’t you rather spend time with Grant? That cove is togged in twig.”

“I do not understand.” Genie often struggled to understand the young urchin, but this time he had lost her.

“He’s a fine dresser and nice. You do like him, don’t you?”

Genie sighed. “I’m sorry you saw our, er, embrace yesterday. I do like Mr. Grant, but I need to make other friends as well.”

“I says you shouldn’t.”

“You have a kind heart, Jem. Can you deliver the message?”

“If you wish.” Jem dragged his feet walking out of the garden and Genie wondered at his apparent dejection. She shrugged to no one in particular and traipsed upstairs to find a reticule big enough to hide her guidebook.

***

“Lions? Does it really have lions?” Genie bent closer over the guidebook, her head close to Mr. Blakely’s.

“Yes, I believe the Tower of London does have lions,” answered Blakely. “I think that should go to the top of our list.”

“Definitely!” Genie had easily convinced Lady Bremerton to let her visit Penelope at the Marchford house. She told Pen and the dowager of her planned meeting with Mr. Blakely, which was met with enthusiasm. As soon as Blakely arrived, the dowager suggested they visit the garden, and so Genie found herself on a bench next to him, with Penelope somewhere amongst the hedges to maintain propriety.

“Look, they list their names,” exclaimed Genie, turning the page on her red, bound volume of
The
Picture
of
London.
Genie had purchased the fat volume for five shillings and despite the grief she had endured about it, was quite enchanted with the two pullout maps and several nice engravings.

“Miss Fanny?” read Blakely. “Seems a rather tame name for a lioness.”

“Look, there’s a panther named ‘Miss Peggy,’” giggled Genie. “I had a friend by the same name. I should like to visit her.”

“Yes, let’s! What a helpful guidebook this is.”

“Thank you!” Genie was pleased someone finally recognized the value of her volume.

They passed an enjoyable afternoon reading about the various glories in London, including St. Paul’s Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, Kensington Palace, and many other notable sites. Genie was desirous to stroll through Hyde Park, which had apparently been recently planted with trees. Blakely confessed an interest in visiting the armory at Carlton House, the residence of the Prince of Wales, which according to the guidebook was the finest in the world.

After an hour, Blakely reluctantly stood to take his leave. They walked to the front door, Penelope discreetly following behind as any good chaperone should do.

“Well, hallo there!” called a familiar voice.

Genie turned to find Grant strolling down the grand staircase. “Grant! Are you visiting the duke?” Despite her concerted effort not to care a fig for Grant, her heart beat a little faster and a smile sprung to her face.

“Just leaving,” he said with a smile, but as he approached, she noted he had an unusually disheveled appearance and, if she was not very much mistaken, was wearing the same mustard waistcoat he had worn the day before. “I see you have been visiting with your new friend.” Grant’s smile dimmed.

“Yes, we were reviewing my guidebook.”

“How… edifying.”

“May I drop you back at Bremerton house, Miss Talbot?” asked Mr. Blakely.

“Actually, I was hoping to visit Hookham’s library. I have arranged to be picked up there later.”

“Why, Hookham’s is exactly on my way!” declared Grant. “You must allow me the pleasure of taking you.”

Despite a furious glare from Penelope, Grant insisted he be given the role as squire and soon Genie was sitting next to him on his phaeton.

“You seem to be on friendly terms with Mr. Blakely,” said Grant in a manner slightly less than cordial.

“He seems a very nice man,” said Genie, not sure what to do with the winter in Grant’s tone. “Tell me how does Jem do today? I saw him earlier this morning.”

“Then you have seen him more recently than I,” replied Grant. “He’s a squirrelly fellow. Never seems to stay where I put him.”

“Little boys are like that,” laughed Genie. “He needs a place to run.”

“Might have found a place. Bunch of Quakers take in orphans on a country estate.”

“Yes, it sounds exactly like what Jem needs, as long as the people there will be kind to him. I believe country living is a good choice for young boys. I should have known you would find the right place for our Jemmy.” A bump in the road threw her against Grant. She straightened but left her shoulder touching his. For balance, she told herself.

“Here we are.” Grant pulled up in front of Hookham’s Lending Library. He jumped from the phaeton and lifted Genie neatly to the ground, his hands almost encircling her small waist. He lingered a moment longer than he should have, his eyes meeting hers, his hands on her waist. Genie forgot to breathe, looking into his silver-blue eyes and unshaven face.

“Thank you again,” murmured Genie, heat crawling across her face and down into unmentionable regions.

“I am always at your service.” Grant walked her to the door and left her with a bow.

Grant returned slowly to the phaeton, watching Genie through the window of Hookham’s. She looked around for a moment, then threw open her arms wide to give a long embrace to a handsome young man.

Twenty-one

“I think these are all good candidates,” said the dowager over tea that afternoon. She examined sorted cards Penelope had created with the names, positions, and significant information for the potential bachelors they wished to put into the running for Genie’s hand.

“I agree. These five would be good potentials. I should think Mr. Blakely is the frontrunner. They had a nice visit together over that guidebook. I believe they could become good friends,” replied Penelope.

“Friends? What difference does that make? She is choosing a husband not a lover.” The dowager carefully chose a biscuit from the tray.

Penelope stared at the dowager.

“You needn’t look so scandalized,” chastised the dowager. “You young people are so much more moralistic than we were in my time.”

“Should I apologize? How was it exactly in your time? Did you entertain many lovers?”

“A lady would never quote a number,” said the dowager with a sly smile. “It used to be a marriage was for family name, inheritance, and breeding. Love was something reserved for other relationships, after, of course, you provided at least one or two legitimate heirs.”

“I can come back later if I have interrupted a private conversation,” said the duke, who was standing by the door.

“Your grandmother was telling me of her numerous lovers. I’m not certain you would quite like to hear it.”

“I am sure I would not. Miss Rose, could I have a moment in the study?” They walked down the corridor to the study, where the butler was standing guard outside the door. “Thank you, Peters.”

“You are leaving nothing to chance,” said Pen, following the duke into the study.

“No, not after yesterday,” said the duke, motioning Penelope to sit down. He sat across from her and she could see worry lines about his eyes she had not noticed before. “I expect the thief will try again, and this time I intend to be better prepared. Tell me what was that man doing here?”

“Blakely? He came to visit Genie without the watchful eye of Lady Bremerton. Genie has a guidebook she wanted to review with him without suffering her aunt’s set-downs regarding the topic of guidebooks.”

“A guidebook for London?” Marchford asked with a twinge of disgust.

“Exactly so.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“Most of the staff have in some way been either threatened or bribed to retrieve what you are hiding in this study.”

“I am aware. I’ve had to send agents out to protect the families of several housemaids and a few have left altogether.”

“Why did I see Mr. Grant here this morning, looking like he had slept in his clothes?” asked Pen.

“We had some fun last night and he passed out on the floor. Not safe to wake Grant until afternoon, so there was nothing I could do but let him sleep.”

Pen raised an eyebrow.

Marchford sighed. “That is the story you are to tell grandmother.”

“Would it do me any good to ask you for the truth?”

“I needed to go out last night and I trust none but Thornton and Grant to guard the letter. The footman and any guards I could hire are vulnerable, and I’ll not trust any agents from Neville’s office.”

“Mr. Grant offered to drive Miss Talbot to the lending library. She left in that high-perch phaeton of his.” Penelope’s tone was accusatory. Marchford may trust Grant to watch over his document, but she did not trust him to watch over Genie.

“You do not approve?”

“If he has no intentions of offering marriage, which I think we both know he does not, he should clear the field.”

Marchford sighed. “I will speak to him. Anything else you have to report?”

“Miss Talbot has befriended a young boy, a street urchin and thief, and is trying to rehabilitate him. Lord and Lady Bremerton rejected the notion, so Mr. Grant has agreed to house the urchin.”

“I confess Grant did tell me much the same, but I thought it must be one of his jokes. And my grandmother?”

“Feisty and plotting your demise.”

“Everything is normal then, capital. I must thank you, Miss Rose. I have rarely seen my grandmother in such fine fettle. Whatever you are doing to lift her spirits, please do continue.”

“I shall remind you that you directed me in such a manner sometime in the future.” Pen could not help but smile.

Marchford smiled in return, a rare occurrence. “I do not mind having you in the house nearly as much as I thought I would.”

“Was that a compliment? I fear I may have missed it.”

“It was a little backhanded, I apologize. Let me try again. I enjoy your presence, Miss Rose. I shall miss you when you leave with my grandmother to the dowager house.”

“Thank you. Since we have no plans at present to leave, you shall have the pleasure of enjoying my presence for the extended future.”

“I shall accept my fate with the courage that befits an Englishman,” said Marchford gallantly. “I should warn you, I shall be around the house and most likely in my rooms for the next few days. I believe I will become ill.”

“You are going to keep to the house to try to catch this thief.”

Marchford graced her with another smile. “You are a clever one, Miss Rose. If you could pass along my apologies for tea? Tell my grandmother I told you I was feeling ill.”

“As you wish,” said Penelope, standing to leave.

“Oh, I almost forgot. This arrived for you.” Marchford reached for something in his inside coat pocket.

“Thank you.” Penelope took the letter he handed her. It was address to her, but other than originating from London, it had not return address or information. She broke the seal quickly, curiosity overtaking her. One glance inside told her she must read this particular letter in private. “I think I shall take a moment to rest and read my letter in peace.”

If he had hoped her to explain the letter, he accepted her silence and merely bowed in response. Penelope proceeded upstairs to her room to open the mysterious letter without prying eyes. There was another sealed letter inside the first one. The letter within was addressed to
Madame
X.

***

“Why, George, whatever is the matter?” Genie frowned into her brother’s formerly playful eyes. They had a dull appearance now. She took his hand and drew him to sit with her near the window of Hookham’s Lending Library.

“Nothing is the matter. This has been a great lark.” He rubbed his tired eyes with his hand.

“You look dreadful. Have you slept at all since we last spoke?”

“Been having too much fun to sleep,” said George.

“It does not look like you have been having any fun at all,” retorted Genie.

“Shows what you know. Some things are not meant for a girl. Turns out I have a knack for cards,” he said proudly, puffing out his chest.

“Cards! Please do not tell me you have been gambling away your school money, George.”

“All right, I won’t tell you. I didn’t ask you here to quarrel but to give you this.” He handed her a small box. Inside were two twinkling, emerald earbobs.