“And yet,” Elizabeth’s mother said, “Lord Hodges asked you to keep your voice down, Sir Geoffrey, but you did not.”
“I was overwrought, ma’am,” he said. “But however it is or was, I apologize most sincerely to you, Elizabeth.” He turned to look at her, a frown between his brows. “What I said was unpardonable. I do, nevertheless, beg you to forgive me.”
“Is there any good reason why she should?” Alexander asked when Elizabeth did not immediately respond.
Sir Geoffrey rubbed one knuckle across his forehead as though to erase the crease line between his brows. “None whatsoever,” he said. “I have held you in the deepest regard for many years, Elizabeth. Last year I hoped you might be prepared to reward my long patience. I was bitterly disappointed when you refused my offer, but I was encouraged too by your hesitation when I asked if it was your final answer. When I offered again this year and you said yes, I was overjoyed at the realization that you were to be mine at last. My wife. My own treasured possession. But the delay until we marry, even though only as long as it takes for the banns to be read, has been irksome. I am afraid that tonight I tried to claim what was my own before I was entitled. In doing so, I have offended your family and caused you distress and embarrassment. I do assure you that it will never happen again, even after we marry. I will never again expose you to a public spectacle.”
“Only, perhaps, to a private one?” Avery wondered quietly from his corner.
Sir Geoffrey wheeled about to face him. “You misunderstand, Netherby,” he said. “I set great store by proper decorum. I try at all times to conduct myself as a gentleman ought. Occasionally—rarely, I hope—I fail. And for my failure this evening I ask pardon. Of you because I caused a scene in your ballroom, of Mrs. Westcott because I caused her daughter distress, of Riverdale as Elizabeth’s brother, and of Elizabeth herself for accusing her of inappropriate behavior as she danced with a younger man.” He turned back to her. “I beg you to forgive me. If you wish, I shall make my apology to Lord Hodges too, given the fact that he is Lady Riverdale’s brother. And if you wish, or if Netherby wishes, I shall make some sort of public apology in the ballroom.”
He stood in the middle of the library, his feet firmly planted a few inches apart, his hands clasped at his back, the frown still on his brow. He seemed to have finished what he had to say.
“That is very handsome of you, Codaire,” Avery said. It was unclear if he meant it or if he was speaking ironically.
“Making a public apology would be quite the wrong thing to do,” Elizabeth’s mother said. “It would merely cause mass discomfort and provide far more food for gossip than there already is. The only thing to do is brazen it out, return to the ballroom smiling, and proceed to enjoy the evening as though that horrid incident had not happened at all. Are you able to do that, Lizzie?” She too was frowning and looking none too happy with her own suggestion.
“Elizabeth?” Sir Geoffrey took a step toward her, one hand outstretched.
“I will not return to the ballroom,” she said. “I am sorry, Avery, for the ruination of your ball.”
“Think no more of it, Cousin,” he said, wafting one beringed hand in her direction. “Our ball will be the talk of the Season. What more could any host ask? There will surely be no other to match it.” This time he did not appear to be speaking with any irony.
“Elizabeth—” Sir Geoffrey began.
“There is no betrothal,” she said. “And there will be no wedding.”
“Elizabeth?” He dropped his arm and looked rather as though she had slapped his face. “For one small mistake? No, forgive me. It was not small. But just one mistake nevertheless. You would cause the massive disaster of a ruined ball, a broken engagement, and a cancellation of wedding plans that are already well advanced? All foronemistake?”
She felt too weary to engage in any argument or explanation. There was nothing to say. Except one word.
“Yes,” she said.
“You would dare suggest thatmy sisteris the cause of the disaster this evening?” Alexander asked.
Sir Geoffrey’s frown disappeared. His jaw hardened. He showed no sign of having heard. “I was sadly mistaken in you, I see, Elizabeth,” he said. “I believed that at your age you had long ago put aside the frivolous side of your nature that drove your first husband to drink and had acquired the level of maturity that one ought to be able to expect of a lady past the first blush of youth. And perhaps the second.”
Elizabeth did not see her brother move. But she did see him fell Sir Geoffrey with one blow to the jaw.
Her mother stifled a shriek.
“Well done, Riverdale,” Avery said softly.
Elizabeth did not move.
Fortunately there had been no furniture to add danger to Sir Geoffrey’s fall, which had nevertheless been a heavy one. He lay on the carpet dazed for a few moments but not unconscious. He rubbed a hand along his jaw and got awkwardly to his feet, ignoring the hand Alexander held out to assist him. He shook his head as though to clear it.
“You wish for satisfaction, Riverdale?” he asked stiffly.
“I have already had it,” Alexander said curtly. “It is a pity this is not my house. It would give me even more satisfaction to tell you to get out.”
“That pleasure falls to me,” Avery said, leaving his chair. “But it would be inhospitable to send a guest on his way without his hat and cloak and carriage.”
He strolled to the door, stepping around Elizabeth, who seemed incapable of moving, and instructed someone in the hall outside to call up Sir Geoffrey Codaire’s carriage if it was within hailing distance or a hackney cab if it was not. Sir Geoffrey brushed past Elizabeth too without looking at her and then past Avery and strode out into the hall to take charge of his own departure.
Avery closed the door.
“It is my turn to apologize,” Alexander said. “I ought not to have done that in your presence, Mama, or in yours, Lizzie. Or in your library, Netherby.”
