Leaning forward, he tried to see the rest of their party. He spied Lord Chimes, too, and hoped Caroline was with only her parents, but then she leaned over to speak to the man at her left and even laid her hand upon his arm. With their heads bent close, they spoke and then laughed.
Geoffrey’s insides tightened as a burst of jealousy raced through him.Dammit all!
“Are you well, my lord?” asked the lady beside him. “You groaned and muttered.”
He wanted to tell her he felt bloody awful and do the unforgivable — take her home before the evening’s entertainment ended. However, his mother would give him hell if he offended her friend’s daughter.
“My apologies. A touch of indigestion is all.” He rolled his eyes at his ridiculous words, making himself sound like an old man with gout. Glad when the lamps dimmed, so he could no longer see Caroline and her escort, who appeared a damn sight more appealing than Mangue, Geoffrey settled back for the longest evening of his life.
He would not make the same mistake. He would remain a monk rather than be tortured by being in the company ofa hapless miss who could do nothing but disappoint him through no fault of her own. She was simply the wrong woman.
Thus, the rest of the Season passed without him in attendance.
He didn’t want to see Caroline, so he stayed away from the ballrooms. Despite his self-imposed banishment, he read the daily papers, dreading the appearance of an engagement announcement between her and Mangue or even with the mysterious stranger. Luckily, there were none.
Waiting did nothing to further his own pursuit of her, and while the passage of time gave tongues other scandals to wag on about, it did little to lessen Geoffrey’s obsession with the red-haired goddess. Finally, it was Stir-Up Sunday, the last Sunday before the season of Advent, and he was at his parents’ home for a long-held tradition.
“This has seemed an exceedingly long year,” James Diamond said, rubbing his hands as he stood before the hearth in their drawing room. “Parliament has been busy. We started a new war with the Burmese, which I think shall drag on and be damnably expensive. Regrettably, it had to be done.”
He took his glass of brandy from the mantel and sipped.
“On the other hand, I personally helped create a few acts that hopefully shall prove useful, and we signed a good treaty with the Dutch.”
The Earl Diamond loved when they had a peaceful accord rather than a ruinous war. But Geoffrey was in no mood for good news.
“From the sublime to the ridiculous, our government stopped a war, started one, and spent a fortune on Angerstien’s art collection,” he said, feeling dour despite the normally festive occasion.
This custom of discussing their year on Stir-Up Sunday had begun when he’d been sent away to school. Upon his return for the long winter break, they would enjoy recapping what each had done, with the comforting knowledge that intheir well-staffed kitchen the Christmas puddings were being made as they traditionally were on this day. For the next month, the liquor-soaked puddings would cure until they were brought to the table on Christmas day.
“With Angerstien’s collection, we now have a public art gallery,” his mother reminded him. “I think it’s wonderful and worth every penny. If my loving husband wishes to commission a painting of me before I lose my looks, then I shall donate it.”
“I shall do so in the new year at the earliest instant,” the earl promised. “As soon as I find the best painter.”
Lady Diamond narrowed her eyes. “Why the rush, husband? Are you saying I am already in danger of showing my age?”
When his father threw him a desperate look, Geoffrey merely shrugged. Let the man get himself out of it.
“Not at all, my love,” Lord Diamond said. “But you cannot fault me for wanting the public to be able to enjoy your likeness on canvas as soon as humanly possible.”
Marianne Diamond smiled and lifted her glass of wine in agreement.
Geoffrey ignored them. The new National Gallery, as it was known, only reminded him of seeing Caroline there before their debacle at the Hollidge dinner party. Her mother had kept him at bay.
“I sat in on the founding of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals,” his father continued to boast his list of accomplishments. “I was invited to Old Slaughter’s Coffee House by the Reverend Broome himself and am proud of our members of parliament who sat with me for such a worthy cause.”
“A good thing, too,” Lady Diamond said. “There is no reason to strike a dog or a horse.”
“No more than one would strike a woman,” the earl agreed. “Poor creatures.”
“Women or animals?” the countess quipped.
They laughed.
Geoffrey didn’t join in and thought he ought to have stayed home this year and avoided the family tradition, especially since his biggest accomplishment was failing to gain the hand of the woman he loved. And he could hardly share that since he would garner no sympathy with his parents for the loss of a Chimes as his wife.
Nevertheless, he knew how to put a damper on their fun.
“As a nation, we hosted the King and Queen of the Sandwich Islands,” he said. “Hosted them right into an early grave.”
