Wildblossom (36 page)

All these thoughts and feelings were squeezed into mere seconds, but Clementine needed no more than a glance to rouse her suspicions. "Geoffrey," she said sweetly, "have you and Miss Matthews met before? In Wyoming, perhaps?"

Before either of them could summon the presence of mind to reply, Ben Avery intervened, bypassing his niece and actually bowing before Lady Clem. "I hope you'll forgive me for interrupting, my lady, but I had to speak to you." Hat in hand, Ben gave her a boyish grin that displayed seldom-used dimples. "My name is Benjamin Franklin Avery, and I'm Miss Matthews's trainer... and manager."

"Indeed? It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Avery." She flushed prettily under his bold male gaze. "You handled yourself with great dexterity during the show, sir."

"Now, I won't let you be the first one to pass out compliments, my lady! I happen to know that you're a first-rate horsewoman, and I hope to see you ride. I'm giving lessons in western-style riding in Hyde Park starting tomorrow, and one of my other students told me that you might be interested."

"Really! Who was that?"

Ben didn't miss a beat. "I have to confess that I'm not very good with names, but I do remember that she is a countess, and she said that you have the best seat in the saddle of any woman in London."

Preening, Lady Clem decided that it might be great fun to learn western-style riding, and agreed to have her first lesson with Ben Avery the next morning at nine o'clock. When she turned back to Geoff, expecting to find him still gazing at that silly American girl, Clementine discovered that everyone else was starting off for a tour of the Indian Village.

With a wave, Ben left to catch up with Shelby and Johnny Baker, both of whom were engaged in conversation with the excited young princes. Geoff was waiting for Clementine. He leaned against the grandstand, off to one side, and when she approached, he cocked an eyebrow.

"Mr. Avery seemed quite taken with you, Clemmie."

"He was very kind." Her English complexion showed a bright spot of color on each cheek. "I had nearly forgotten that a man could behave toward me as if I were an attractive female."

"Well." Geoff feigned boredom, when he longed to smile with happiness. "I don't suppose I could object to you seeing him. Riding lessons should be harmless enough."

"I hadn't thought to ask your permission!"

"Would you mind terribly if we left now?" He yawned. "I don't believe I can bear any more of the Wild West for the moment. The reenactment of the Battle of San Juan Hill wore me out so that I want nothing more than a bath and a nap."

"Actually, I could use a quiet evening myself. I have to be in Hyde Park quite early tomorrow."

As they walked off together, Geoff was conscious of a warm sense of gladness where previously there had been a void.

Shelby happened to look back herself then, just as Geoff stole a glance over one handsome shoulder. Her heart was still racing in the aftermath of their meeting. It was crazy, because everything had changed in their lives and nothing could come of this euphoria except pain, but for the moment, Shelby reveled in it.

Geoff and Lady Clementine headed off toward the street, while Shelby's group made a turn at the outer edge of the arena, which brought them nearly to the Indian Village. She hung back, letting the others move ahead, waiting until she was sure that no one was looking. Then she opened her hand to reveal the tiny note Geoff had slipped to her minutes before.

Standing alone while dust swirled around her, Shelby unfolded the paper, giddy with anticipation. The barely legible printing read:
Come to Warwick Rd, 10 p.m.—G.

It was madness to even consider doing as he bade.

And it was madness to realize that love for him was still churning inside her, as hot and substantial as ever.

* * *

A small, elegant carriage was waiting on Warwick Road when Shelby started up from the corner just before ten o'clock that night. Immediately, it came toward her and a dignified coachman inquired, "Miss Matthews? His Grace has sent me to fetch you."

When she nodded, he hurried down from his perch, let down some steps, and held the door for her. Feeling as if she were in a dream set in another age, Shelby settled into the tufted leather interior and looked around in wonder as they clattered off into the night.

Was he taking her to Geoff's home? All manner of possible scenarios for the evening had run through her mind as she dressed, but even Vivian had agreed that the late hour of this assignation seemed to preclude any plans of a respectable nature. Shelby decided to go all the same. How could she refuse? Vivian, and even Uncle Ben, had urged her on, reminding her of the real, if unspoken, reason she'd come all the way to London. She had to see Geoff and talk to him again, even if it was only to make a proper farewell.

When, early in the evening, a footman had arrived at the camp village with boxes addressed to Shelby, she asked Viv if it would be wanton to wear the clothing Geoff had sent. They opened the boxes, and the most beautiful gown, cape, and accessories either of them had ever imagined spilled across Shelby's cot. Vivian reasoned that Geoff had sent the clothes so that Shelby would fit in wherever it was he was taking her tonight, so wearing them would be sensible, not wanton.

Now, glancing down at the gown that was a froth of priceless ivory lace and fine golden silk, and the evening cape trimmed in fur that caressed her throat, Shelby wondered what lay ahead of her the rest of this night....

All of London seemed to be out and about. Lights glimmered in the gathering mist, and the streets were crowded with carriages and automobiles filled with animated occupants. From time to time Shelby saw the winding River Thames, blanketed by fog. They had passed into a more residential area of Mayfair, she thought. Perhaps it was the Strand? Finally, the carriage drew up before a magnificent building that Shelby recognized as the Savoy Hotel. Even from the street, she could see the sparkling chandeliers and hear the laughing, well-dressed people inside.

I feel like Cinderella arriving at the ball
, she thought with a tart smile. The coachman assisted her from the carriage, and a uniformed doorman was immediately at her side.

"Would you be so good as to follow me, milady?" he asked with a kind smile. Shelby was grateful for that, having expected to be treated as if she were a woman of loose morals who was meeting secretly with a duke who was about to marry another woman.

But aren't you?
an inner voice taunted.
Your prince won't even be seen in your company, Cinderella!

"Good night, miss," the coachman said as she went off toward the entrance to the Savoy.

Shelby waved to him, feeling a little giddy. Inside the Savoy's vast frescoed and marbled entrance hall, she tried not to stare at the palatial surroundings or the spectacular crowd entering the dining room just ahead of her. It was clear that these people were very important, and Shelby wished she had dared to ask the doorman about them.

At least two male members of that smart set lifted their monocles to bestow appreciative gazes on her as she passed, skirts rustling. In spite of the punishing, fashionably exaggerated corset that she refused to endure in her everyday wardrobe, Shelby felt beautiful tonight. She glanced at herself in a beveled mirror near the elevator and saw how her up-swirled hair caught the light, and how soft and creamy her skin was, and how distinctive were her lovely features.

Her heart was racing again and her palms were damp by the time she followed the doorman out of the elevator and down an elegant hallway. Stopping before a recessed, gilt-trimmed door, he gave Shelby another encouraging smile.

"I'll leave you here, milady." He bowed, turning, and soundlessly disappeared back into the elevator.

She did one of her breathing exercises, but this time discovered that it seemed to make her heart beat all the faster. Besides, she was so very anxious to see Geoff, even for one night only—

The door swung open then, before Shelby could knock, and they were face-to-face, alone, at last. His eyes widened at the sight of her, then softened visibly. "Good God, look at you. My scamp is a princess."

When he caught her hand and drew her into the room, Shelby wanted so badly to keep going, right into his arms. "Oh, Geoff... it's good to see you."

It seemed a luxury to be able to drink in the sight of him without fear of attracting attention. Clad in dark blue trousers that accentuated his lithe physique, a starched white shirt that was open at the neck, and cuff links set with sapphires, Geoff seemed to be just as handsome as ever, if more polished. But then Shelby noticed the fine lines that were more deeply etched at the corners of his eyes, and the faint hollows under his cheekbones.

"Geoff, you're starting to have the look of a rake!" she said fondly.

"What do you know of rakes, sweet?"

"Only what I read in novels... until I met you!"

"Come into the light so that I can have a good look at you." Although his tone remained deceptively light, Geoff could not hide the emotion in his eyes. He took her cape and led her into the middle of the suite's grand sitting room, where a fire danced in a carved marble fireplace. Holding her small hands in both of his, he murmured, "My God, I've missed you."

Her defenses crumbled and vanished. What use was common sense when one was in love? The love she felt for Geoff seemed as rich and powerful as it had been in the simpler environment of the Sunshine Ranch, and it felt stronger than any other aspect of reality... such as his lofty title or his betrothal.

"I have missed you, too." There were tears in her eyes, and in her voice. She had to bite her lip to stem the tide, and that made her look, unknowingly, all the more appealing. The little voice—sounding more and more like Gran Annie—cautioned,
Do you want to be a loose woman? Will you let him dress you up like a doll and use you at his leisure, in secret?

His gaze burned her creamy throat and shoulders. "You look magnificent, Shelby, but I'll confess that I am partial to the figure you cut in trousers."

"These silly corsets deform the natural shape of a woman's body," she replied. "Don't you think? I look like a pouter pigeon."

"Hardly," he murmured with a dry smile. "However, I don't think that your body should be altered in any way. It's perfect just as God created it."

She knew that he was thinking about the little ribbed top she'd worn during their night of abandon at the ranch. Blushing, she countered, "Do you talk to your gently bred fiancée like this?"

Geoff drew back a bit, warily. "No, I do not. Nor do I admire her face and form... or even her manner."

"Then you shouldn't marry her!"

He glanced away. "I wish it were that easy."

Shelby wanted to tell him that, in spite of everything she'd once said about detesting the lifestyle of the British aristocracy, that didn't mean she wouldn't have adapted if he'd asked her to. Had she simply lost her chance back in Wyoming by clinging to the notion that Geoff might be persuaded to stay there, or had it all been pulled completely from her hands when that telegram arrived about his father's illness?

"What is tonight all about?" Shelby was surprised to hear herself speak in a heated tone. "Why did you send me these extravagant clothes and bring me to this... den of iniquity?" She made a sweeping gesture around the elegant sitting room with a view of the moonlit Thames and its thick carpets and pale yellow walls with carved plasterwork picked out in white. When her eyes lit on double doors across the room, Shelby stormed to throw them open, her skirts whisking behind.

"Aha!"
She pointed to a magnificent rosewood bed with a wraparound footboard and headboard, carved with flowing vines and fruit. Drifts of embroidered pillows crowned the top of the ivory counterpane, and the lamps on each bedside table were turned invitingly low. "Could you possibly be more obvious—or insulting, Your Grace? I do not know what you take me for, but I know what
you
are—a cad!"

"And a rake?" he wondered mildly, coming up beside her. "I like the sound of that better than 'cad.' "

"I am not joking!" She closed the doors with a flourish and returned to the sitting room.

"Clearly not."

Her color was high as she raised a finger in the air.

"How do you think it feels, to be summoned in secret to this trysting place like a woman of easy virtue? Just because I lost my head once with you, that doesn't mean you can take me whenever you have the whim!"

"Shelby, this has nothing to do with a bloody trysting
whim,
and you know it."

"Do you think I am ignorant of the ways of titled Englishmen just because I've come from America? I know all about your king, and the many love affairs he's carried on with actresses and singers, right under the nose of his lovely, gracious wife!"

Geoff wanted to interject that this had no bearing on tonight, but clearly Shelby needed to finish her tirade, so he poured himself a glass of champagne and perched on the sofa arm to hear her out. Meanwhile, she reached around to lift her skirts in one hand so that she could pace without swishing.

"Today," she declared, "I had half a mind to do as Annie Oakley did in 1887 and shake hands first with the queen, rather than the king! She caused a huge scandal, but she said women
should
come first, and her heart went out to Alexandra, who has to suffer flirtations and the degradation of—"