Chapter Nine
Gavin rode alongside Lady Littleton’s coach as they traveled the short distance to The Lilacs. From what she’d said, he’d got the impression that it was a small manor house and was surprised when they entered a drive lined with linden trees. At the end of the drive was a house built in the same Elizabethan manner as Littlewood, and not nearly as small as he’d thought it would be. Mullioned windows on all three floors reflected the sun, and in the middle of the circular drive was a flowerbed of seasonal blooms surrounded by boxwood edging.
He dismounted from his horse as a footman hurried out to help her ladyship out of the carriage. “This is a beautiful house.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Her eyes lit up as she looked up at the building. “I think I like it all the better because it belongs to me.”
Her remark took him by surprise. He’d never thought about the fact that ladies frequently did not own the property in which they resided. No matter the changes and improvements a female made to a house, it belonged to her husband. And in most cases, the lady had to depart the main house when he died or her son married.
“Come along. Cook might be able to provide some refreshment.”
“Give Lord Turley the large apartments in the front,” her ladyship said to Crothers as she strode through the door and handed him her gloves and bonnet.
“Yes, my lady. Where would you like tea served?”
“In the morning room. It is becoming a little chilly for the terrace.”
When the butler left, Gavin decided it was time to ask the one question that had been on his mind. “Why are Miss Featherton’s grandmother and friend visiting as well?”
“My dear boy, if you require assistance in bringing her up to scratch, you will have need of them. First, though, you will have to convince them you are serious about Georgie.” He followed as she entered the still bright morning room. But as he looked around it was clear that the brightness seemed to come more from the color of the walls, that resembled a newly ripened peach, than the windows. “I’ve never seen a color like this.”
Her ladyship gave a satisfied smile. “It was not easy to achieve. I had a painter mix the color I wanted. We had several misses before he got the desired result. Then he had to work with the house painter to create a paint suitable for the walls. I am glad you like it.”
Gavin took in the cream-colored trim on the windows and French doors, both of which had curtains decorated with a fruit and flower motif on a cream background. He wondered if Georgie would like something in the same vein at Rivercrest. “I do like it. Very much.”
Crothers brought in the tea tray and set it on the low table between two couches then left. “How am I supposed to persuade the ladies that my feelings for Georgie are honest?”
Her ladyship lifted a brow. “By being forthright. Neither of them are fools.”
“I did not think they would be,” he grumbled to himself. His luck wasn’t running in that direction.
“I have already taken the liberty of informing them about your father and your fear you will do as he did.”
“Of course you did.” Gavin breathed the words more than said them. At the rate this was going, the whole world would know of his fears.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.” He took a seat on the sofa opposite the one Lady Littleton occupied. “Er, thank you for relieving me of that responsibility.”
“I thought it would be helpful.” She handed him a cup and pushed the plate of biscuits toward him.
There was entirely too much thinking going on. If he’d only not let Georgie think of that question, he’d be betrothed and looking forward to soon having a wife. “When tomorrow do you expect them to arrive?”
“Sometime before noon. The duchess does not travel well. You might want to find something to occupy yourself until later in the day.”
Or the day after that. “Frits said I could spend my days at Littlewood.”
“Just remember to break your fast before you depart. I seem to remember your being rather surly in the mornings before you had eaten.”
Leave it to her to recall something from his childhood. And what was sauce for the gander was sauce for the goose. Or something like that. She never even came down to breakfast. “That was when I was twelve!”
The cup hovered in front of her face, hiding her expression. “You were not twelve this past August.”
He crunched into a ginger biscuit, chewed, and swallowed. “My valet usually brings me toast and tea when I awaken.”
The eyebrow rose again. “I am aware. However, that reminds me to instruct my cook to have it prepared.”
There was no point in attempting to get anything past her ladyship. Now that he thought about it, it was while he was visiting Frits that toast and tea began to appear in the mornings. Gavin mustered all the dignity he could after being treated like a little boy again. “Thank you.” Setting down his cup, he stood. “I shall see you at dinner.”
“I would send a note to Littlewood advising them of when in the morning you will arrive. You do not wish to get there and find Georgie is elsewhere.”
“That is what I was going to do.” Or he was now. Her ladyship was correct. If Georgie wished to lead Gavin a dance, she’d be up and gone before he arrived at Littlewood. He only wished he knew how she planned to handle his being around much of the time.
When he reached his chamber that turned out to be a set of three rooms, he found an already trimmed pen, paper, and everything else he required. Bearing in mind his instructions, he dashed off a note to his friend stating that he would arrive after breakfast and asking that a message be passed on to Georgie asking her if she would like to ride with him if she did not have any other plans. Frits had an excellent stable and could easily find a horse for her.
* * *
That evening Georgie and Adeline were enjoying an excellent claret when Frits strolled into the Littlewood drawing room holding a piece of paper. “Georgie, Turley would like to know if you have the time to ride with him after we break our fast in the morning.”
He certainly was not wasting any time. “I do wish to go for a ride.” She glanced at Adeline. “There is no reason I can think of that I cannot respond to the note myself.”
“Nor I.” Adeline gave her husband an approving smile. “Although, I think he was quite proper in addressing his letter to Frits. Do you not agree?”
“Yes.” It was odd having Adeline, who was a month younger than Georgie, and Frits, who had had the reputation of a rake, in charge of her and performing the duty so diligently. Addressing an invitation to him was the right thing to do. Then again, Turley was always proper. Georgie had thought it charming, but now she wondered if it was because he did not love her and felt no real urgency to marry her. Yes, she knew that he wanted to wed her, but there had to be more than simply wanting to make a lady a wife. Neither Kit nor Hawksworth, Meg’s husband, had been exactly proper when they’d been courting Mary and Meg. Georgie glanced at Frits hovering over Adeline. In fact, Frits had not been proper when he had courted her. Perhaps observing the proprieties was what one did when one did not wish to become too close to another person. After all, formality did not breed intimacy.