Chapter Seventeen
Before the embracing couple in the garden could see him, Giles backed up then turned abruptly and left the garden. Through the numbness that strangled him, the thought kept running through his mind that it certainly appeared that his friends had been right and Suzanna had reconciled herself to Pemberton’s courtship.
One day in the near future, he would allow himself the luxury of self-pity, anger, and whatever else he needed to do to deal with the pain. Now, he headed home with the intent of closing up his London townhouse and heading to his estate in Bedfordshire.
The walk home did nothing to calm him.
“Macon!” Giles shouted for his valet the minute he slammed the front door.
“Yes, Mr. Templeton.” Macon came down the stairs, a boot and boot brush in his hands.
“Pack up everything. We are leaving for Bedfordshire.” He took the stairs two at a time and brushed past the valet.
If Macon had a question about his orders, it did not show on his face. He turned and followed Giles to his bedchamber. “When are we leaving, sir?”
“As soon as we’re packed.”
At sixes and sevens and unsure what to do with himself, Giles went back downstairs and strode to the kitchen, surprising Cook with his abrupt entrance.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Templeton. How can I help you?”
“Where is Mrs. Adams?” He cringed at his tone, but he had no time for niceties.
Cook thought for a moment. “I believe she is upstairs supervising the new maid in her duties.”
He raced up the servant stairs from the kitchen to the bedchamber floor. His housekeeper was just coming from one of the bedchambers.
“Mrs. Adams. I am leaving today for Bedfordshire. Please do whatever it is you need to do to close up the house.”
Her brows rose. “Yes, Mr. Templeton. How long will you be gone?”
“Forever.” He strode past her to his bedchamber and ran into Macon coming out of the room, almost knocking the poor man off his feet. He growled in his direction and continued on.
Once he reached the middle of his bedchamber, his heart pumping, his breath coming in short pants, he came to an abrupt halt. Now what? Aside from punching the wall, which would probably break his hand, he had nothing to do. Macon was busy running back and forth, packing, and Mrs. Adams stood in the corridor giving orders to the staff. There was no reason for him to be in his room.
No reason for him to even be in the house. Or London. He would only slow things up if the servants had to walk around him to get things done. “I’m going to my club. We will depart when I return.”
“Yes, sir.” Macon cast a confused glance in his direction, but said nothing, and continued with his work.
Giles sprinted down the stairs, out the door, and headed to the mews to retrieve his horse. He felt as though he were being chased by demons. If he ran fast enough, and long enough, maybe the pain would not catch up with him.
The usual afternoon crowd sat in groups of twos and threes when he entered White’s. Giles took a quick glance around, but given his mood, he didn’t spot anyone he wished to speak with. He nodded at a few men as he made his way to a corner chair, close to the fireplace, and far away from the nearest member.
Drink in hand, and no longer able to push his thoughts from his mind, he rested his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes. And immediately popped them open. All he could see was Suzanna throwing her arms around Lord Pemberton, smiling and exclaiming he’d made her the happiest woman in London.
He had no doubt she’d been responding to the expected proposal.
Perhaps having a title in front of her name had not only been her parents’ idea, after all. She probably fed him that story to not make herself appear lofty. How could he have misjudged her? Of course, his friends had tried to warn him, but he hadn’t believed them. Well, he’d gone there with the intention of finding out how Suzanna felt about the proposal. His eyes had told him what he needed to know.
He checked his timepiece every so often, and when no one appeared whom he wished to speak with, he rose and gulped the last of his brandy. He would pen notes to Bedford, Cam, and Hawk later. For now, all he wanted was to retire to his country estate and lick his wounds.
The evening had turned cool and rainy, a perfect complement to his mood. He pulled up the collar of his jacket and rode Gallant slowly through the slippery streets. By the time he arrived home it was fully dark, and he was soaked to his skin.
“Mr. Templeton, I have packed everything we will need until the rest can be sent on. Will we be starting off tonight with this weather?” Macon met him at the door and helped him out of his wet outer clothing.
As much as he wanted to be as far away from London as he could get, it would be foolhardy and dangerous to travel in the dark with the roads growing more treacherous by the minute. “No. We will set off at first light. Please have a hot bath drawn. I will be in the library.”
Despite the dampness, no fire had been lit in the library. Giles poured a half glass of brandy and drank it while he watched the rain pour down, puddles forming throughout the garden.
He’d lost the wager.
Suzanna would marry Lord Pemberton, give birth to little Pembertons, and have the life her parents—or perhaps she—wanted. A title, consequence, and a solid place among the ton. Had he been born first, instead of his brother, Giles could have been the man who received hugs in the garden in response to his proposal.
It would have been him promising to love, honor, and cherish Miss Suzanna Blake while they stood before the vicar. He tried to convince himself that if he was not good enough for her without a title, he was better off without her.
But that didn’t work.
“Sir, your bath is ready.” Macon stood at the doorway to the library.
“Thank you.” Giles placed the rest of his drink on the table and headed upstairs. First thing tomorrow, he would be on the road and away from London. And Lord Pemberton. And Miss Blake. The only thing accompanying him would be his bruised and battered heart.
…
“I know you had something to do with this!” Suzanna’s mother glared at her with such anger that Suzanna thought she might strike her again, but with Father present, she would probably control herself. “You were outside in the garden with Lord Pemberton, and then he tells your father he no longer thinks you two will suit? Do you realize the scandal this will cause?”
“What scandal, Mother? It isn’t as though we were betrothed.”
Mother moved closer, fire shooting from her eyes. “You know perfectly well that everyone expected a betrothal any day now.”
Suzanna backed up a bit. “I cannot help what everyone expected. All I know is Lord Pemberton and I had a lovely walk in the garden, and then he escorted me inside. Did it ever occur to you that perhaps he just doesn’t think we will suit?”
Her mother turned to Father. “Do something about this.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “What is it you want me to do, Lavinia? Lord Pemberton was quite polite, but also adamant that for as lovely as Suzanna is, he just didn’t feel as though they would suit. Perhaps it had something to do with his mother. The woman strikes me as a harridan.”
“It has nothing to do with his mother. And everything to do with your daughter!” Mother’s outrage continued to grow. She swung around and pointed her finger at Suzanna. “I know you had something to do with it. You are entirely too happy!”
“Lavinia, that is enough!” For the first time ever, Father spoke to Mother like a man. If Suzanna was surprised, it was nothing compared to the look on her mother’s face.
“Well!” She narrowed her eyes, but her voice lowered. “I see from where our daughter gets her defiance. If you will both excuse me, I find a megrim coming on.” She spun around, and shoulders stiffened with her head held high, she swept from the room.
Father collapsed back into his seat, and Suzanna released a deep breath. The silence after Mother’s tirade was overwhelming.
“I agree with your mother, poppet. You had something to do with this.”
Suzanna’s eyes widened. “Papa, you haven’t called me poppet in years.”
He gave her a slight smile. “And you haven’t called me Papa in years.” He held his arms out, and Suzanna made her way around the desk. Father tugged her down until she sat on his lap.
She laid her head on his shoulder. “Father, I am much too old for this.” Despite her shock, she grinned.
He kissed her on the cheek and looked into her eyes. “Let me offer you one bit of advice. When you do marry, and whoever it is you marry, love him, if you must, but don’t love him too much.”
She pushed herself away from his chest. “I don’t understand.”
“I have allowed your mother to run roughshod over the both of us for years. For one reason only. Because I love her and want to make her happy. But I am afraid in my quest to make her happy, I have sacrificed your happiness.”
Suzanna shook her head. “No, you haven’t.” Then she stopped and tapped her lips and glanced at him sideways. “Perhaps a bit.”
“Minx!” He pinched her cheek and made a move to get up. “Now I must go and calm your mother down.”
…
The next day, Suzanna thought about the Bensons’ rout with more enthusiasm than she had in weeks. Most certainly Giles would be there, and she would speak with him and let him know that Lord Pemberton had withdrawn his attentions.
Mother had decided to give her the silent treatment, which served Suzanna quite well. ’Twas much better than the constant criticism she had been subjected to recently. In fact, claiming another megrim, Mother had decided to forego the rout and had requested a dinner tray in her room. Cousin Eunice was accompanying Suzanna to the event.
Father had left for one of his clubs once dinner had ended. She’d heard mumbling coming from their bedchamber the night before, but no more tirades from her mother. Dare she hope that Father was able to convince Mother that she should be allowed to choose her own husband?
As for her and Giles, she had no idea what the future held, but at least she would see Giles tonight and assure him that Lord Pemberton had withdrawn his attentions. She smiled to herself and hummed a light tune while she enjoyed her bath.
Bessie entered the room, Suzanna’s pale peach gown resting over her arm. “I just pressed your gown, Miss. It’s time to get ready.”
Once she was dried, dressed, and seated at the dressing table, with Bessie chatting away as she fixed her hair, Lady Montford tapped lightly and entered her room. She was dressed in a deep blue gown. “Don’t you look especially lovely this evening, Suzanna. It must be that conversation you had with Mr. Templeton yesterday that has put that glow on your cheeks.”
Suzanna’s eyes flew to her cousin. “Mr. Templeton? I didn’t see him yesterday.”
“Oh. How very odd. I sent him out to see you. He was here for tea yesterday. He arrived shortly after you and Lord Pemberton left to stroll in the garden.”
Suzanna frowned and stared at Cousin Eunice through the mirror as Bessie put the finishing touches on her hair. “No. I did not see him.”
“Well, perhaps you and Lord Pemberton had already returned.”
“Yes. That must be what happened.” That was certainly strange. Why would Giles not speak with her? She shrugged. He must have gone into the garden after she and Lord Pemberton had returned to the house, as Eunice said.
But it would all be cleared up this evening when she saw him. She took one final look in the mirror and stood. “Thank you, Bessie. As usual, you have done a wonderful job.”
“It is a pleasure to serve you, Miss Blake.” She gathered up a few items and left the room.
Suzanna picked up her gloves and shawl and, after linking arms with her cousin, they both descended the stairs where Lord Montford awaited them.
“Well, it seems I get to escort two beautiful ladies this evening.”
With a light heart, and looking forward to the evening ahead, Suzanna accepted his arm, and they left the house.
…
Giles stared morosely into his cup of tea. He’d had enough brandy of late to knock out a strong horse, but for some reason the liquor was not having the desired effect, so he’d opted for tea when he’d reached the inn where he planned to spend the night on his way home.
Home.
The place where he’d planned to bring Suzanna as his bride. To begin their life together, making love all day and night, taking long walks, having picnics by the pond, creating children to run and laugh and cause him and Suzanna gray hairs as the little ones grew to adulthood.
“This is one time I am not happy to be right.” Startled out of his misery, Giles looked up at Hawk as he grabbed the chair across from him and sat, resting his hand on the table. “I assume you are on your way to Bedfordshire to wallow in self-pity?”
“Sod off, Hawk. I’m not in the mood.”
Hawk leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I’m surprised at you, Templeton. I thought you were the man who never gave up?”
“She wants Pemberton. It was difficult enough when I was fighting her parents, but once Suzanna decided a title was what she wanted, there didn’t seem to be any reason to continue.”
“My understanding is that her parents haven’t even allowed you to talk to her. How do you know she changed her mind?”
“I saw it with my own eyes.” He stood and pushed his chair out. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Escaping. Like you.”
“From what? Or should I say who? Another overwrought opera dancer?”
Hawk leaned back, crossing his arms. “London, in general, and Mrs. Ambrose, in particular.”
“Ah. Another dalliance gone bad.” He shook his head. “Hawk, it’s time you quit chasing opera dancers and took your title seriously.”
“Bloody hell. You sound like my mother. I am merely one and thirty and have plenty of time to stick my neck into the parson’s noose. Just because you thought it was a good idea for you—which it turned out not to be—doesn’t mean the rest of us are ready to surrender.”
“May I remind you that your country estate is the other direction?”
“I’m visiting my cousin. He and his wife have four offspring, which will more than convince me that putting up with the Mrs. Ambroses of the world is far better than sniveling, crying urchins tugging on your breeches.”
Funny how Giles’s idea of marital bliss had envisioned children who would be the center of his and Suzanna’s world. He shook his head. No Suzanna. She’d made her choice, and he hoped she would be happy with it.
“I am off for the night. I hope to make it home by the end of the day tomorrow, so I must leave at first light. Good luck with your cousin’s urchins.” Giles gave Hawk a slight salute and left the private dining room.
Despite his desire to retire early enough to be refreshed in the morning, Giles tossed for quite a while before he fell into a fitful sleep. He dreamed he was chasing someone on a foggy street in London who was always just out of his reach. When he awoke, he didn’t need a lot of pondering to understand what those dreams meant.
Hawk had already left by the time Giles entered the private dining room for breakfast. He mused for a while on his friend’s demeanor. He seemed almost as forlorn as Giles. Perhaps a visit to his cousin was just what the man needed.
After a quick breakfast of porridge, eggs, trout, and toast, he mounted Gallant and was on his way. He would reach home before his carriage did.
It was with a heavy heart that he broke through the wooded area that lined his estate. The grounds were well-kept by his staff, the windows of the large house gleaming in the setting sun. He loved his home, and always felt joy in his heart as he approached it.
This time the joy was still there, but with an emptiness that would never be filled again. He tugged on Gallant’s reins as he reached the stable. His head groom came out of the stable door and tugged on his cap. “Good evening, Mr. Templeton.”
Giles dismounted and handed the reins to Sampson. The man was well up in years, but still ran the stables, and the young grooms under him, with a heavy hand. Giles had oftentimes thought of offering him a pension, but just the thought of how that offer would be received kept him from doing so. “Good evening, Sampson. I rode him hard, so give him some extra oats tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
Giles turned and stared at the house. A few candles burned inside, but the warmth did not reach him. It was simply too cold inside his body. With a heavy heart, he trudged up the pathway as his butler, Stevens, opened the door. “Good evening, Mr. Templeton. Welcome home, sir.”