Chapter Nine
All in all, Fred considered it a successful day. They had ridden. He had written letters in the late afternoon and she had gone shopping on Bond Street, like all the other females in London. Dinner had been quiet, but cordial. When he had left the house at eleven, his wife had already retired for the evening behind her locked bedroom door. But tonight, it had not been slammed, nor had flowers or any other objects been thrown at his person.
Now, he sat in his favourite leather armchair in the owners’ suite at Vitium et Virtus, enjoying an excellent brandy and contemplating their meeting with his wife’s stepmother. He had not liked Marietta Knight, even before he had married Georgiana. She always seemed to be sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, gathering and sharing gossip. Far too often, the stories she had spread involved the Challenger family.
Thus, he had taken pains to avoid her and her stepdaughter. But he had begun to wonder if he had been fair in associating Georgiana with the actions of Lady Grimsted.
On their meeting in Hyde Park she had proved what an odious woman she actually was. What sort of mother quizzed her daughter in such detail about the activities of the wedding night? He had not sensed the curiosity to be prurient, so much as it was a test to prove the new bride was either still ignorant of the marital act, or miserable in her choice of partners. It was as if Marietta Knight had been eager to see her daughter unhappy.
Georgiana was still every bit as naïve as she had been when she had got herself into the muddle that had required his proposal. She’d had no idea what the woman was asking her about. It was fortunate that he had been there to guide the conversation. Even more so that he had rented such a tame mare so he might spin the choice to make it seem protective of his wife’s intimate person, as opposed to the display of general caution he had intended.
Lady Grimsted’s continued obsession with Bowles spoke volumes as well. The man was family and deserved some support. But she’d kept hammering away at a union that was impossible now that George had married. She seemed to want Georgiana to argue with her, just to put the girl in a bad light. She had behaved the same way before the wedding, causing a needless delay and then blaming it on the bride.
It made him wonder how many of the faults he had found with the girl before their marriage were the result of her stepmother’s dislike of her. He knew from experience how continual rebellion against family could change the shape of one’s character until one became the very thing one abhorred in others. Before the army, he’d very nearly become the worst sinner in the family. And yet, he’d never stopped blaming the others for their scandalous reputation.
‘Challenger!’ Oliver appeared in the doorway and took the briefest stop at the side table to fill a glass before cuffing the back of Fred’s head as he had done when they were in school together. The gesture was intended as one of bon ami, but tonight it was delivered with such enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the glass from Fred’s hand.
‘Gregory?’ He raised his glass in a toast of greeting, before draining it and setting it aside.
‘I must right a wrong.’ Oliver pulled a chair up beside him and sipped his own drink. ‘I offered you congratulations at your wedding and again today. But I fear they were half-hearted.’
‘In what way?’ He could not remember any hesitation on the part of his friends. Perhaps because he was too absorbed in his own feelings about the event.
‘Your marriage was so very sudden,’ Oliver said, with a shake of his head. ‘You, of all people, would know your own mind and think before making such a momentous decision. But I feared...’
‘Me, of all people?’ Fred raised an eyebrow.
‘Well...’ Oliver shrugged and pointed to the bottle and Fred poured him another class. ‘You have always been conscious of society’s opinion of you.’
‘Too conscious, you usually say,’ Fred reminded him.
‘There is no pleasing the world,’ Oliver said. ‘Once it has formed a negative opinion, it will not see reason. I see no point in trying to change its collective mind, especially when conformity to the norm interferes with my pleasure.’
Fred nodded in sympathy. Because of his Indian blood, many people turned their back on his friend before they’d even met him. Yet, the Challenger family was accepted into the best homes, no matter what awful thing they did. There was no fairness in it. ‘I do not behave as I do just to please society,’ he replied. ‘Having seen the alternative, I prefer order and moderation.’
‘In public, at least,’ Oliver said, glancing towards the main rooms where naked women posed on daises for the admiration of the guests. ‘I can remember many nights here at the club where moderation was the last thing you would have suggested.’
‘Not in quite some time.’ It had taken just one particularly horrible incident to sour him on the games they’d played at Vitium et Virtus. Now, he could walk past a line of dancers wearing little more than grease paint and feathers and think of nothing more scandalous than his desire to hole up in the office with a book and a bottle. But he had never shared his reason for drawing away from the entertainment with his friend and did not plan to do so tonight.
Instead, he smiled. ‘Perhaps, I am just getting too old to be dancing drunk on top of the tables.’
‘And Jake is a duke now and far too proper,’ Oliver mocked. ‘The pair of you are younger than me...’
‘Barely,’ Fred reminded him.
‘And yet, lately you act like old ladies. If I am to go to Paris and speak to the fellows at Club Plaisirs Nocturnes about new entertainments for this place only to have the pair of you sell your shares and bow out of management, I would rather not make the trip.’
Though they had been close since childhood, they were grown men with responsibilities. Change was inevitable. Perhaps Oliver felt it more keenly and was worried about the loss of his old friends. ‘Do not fear on that account,’ Frederick said, to set his mind at rest. ‘I am still as committed as ever to see the place run smoothly.’
‘So that others might have fun where you refuse to.’ Oliver shook his head in disgust. ‘What will your wife say to the time you spend, here? Does she not fear you will be tempted?’
‘What can she say?’ Frederick said. If she uttered a word, other than profound thanks for getting her out of the mess she’d made, he had no wish to hear it. ‘I have no intention of allowing her to rule my life and set my schedule.’
‘But if she grows bored...’ Oliver said, giving him a significant look.
‘Then she can take up needlework, or whatever it is that women do when their husbands are not at home,’ Fred finished.
Oliver was shaking his head again. ‘Did you receive a blow to the head in battle that has knocked all the sense of out of you? Or do you really know so little about women, after all this time?’ He pointed towards the ceiling. ‘The bedrooms above us are full of bored wives and they are not painting watercolours. When their husbands are not home, they come here to find other men, or sometimes other women.’
‘But Georgiana is not like that,’ he said. ‘She is still an innocent.’
Oliver raised his eyebrows in surprise.
‘Mostly innocent,’ Fred corrected. ‘Certainly too naïve to go behind my back to spite me.’
‘Because you have been married for a day and a half,’ Oliver finished, then grinned. ‘And yet, she has already found a way to get around you.’
‘She did what?’ Fred leaned forward in his chair.
‘As I said before, my well-wishes were tepid at the ceremony, for I could not see what you would want with a milk-and-water miss. But now that I have got to know her better, I totally understand the attraction.’
‘You do.’ If he had not been honest enough to admit to his own friends the reason he was marrying, he had expected they would form some conclusion on their own. But did they seriously believe that it was a love match?
‘Indeed. If I were in any way inclined to marry, I might have snapped her up myself.’ Then he held up a hand to dismiss the idea, hurriedly pouring himself another drink. ‘Not that you need have any worries about my interference in your marriage. But knowing her as you do, you should realise that she is far too spirited to sit at home alone waiting for you to return.’
‘You think so, do you?’ Fred said, annoyed. The idea had not entered his head at all until Oliver had put it there.
‘A few more exploits like the one today and you will be the envy of every man in London. The girl is magnificent, Challenger.’ Oliver’s eyes were wide with admiration, as was the grin on his face.
‘Georgiana?’ Fred’s eyes narrowed as he poured another glass of brandy for himself, drinking deeply. ‘She is pretty, of course...’ Which was quite understating the case. From the first moment he’d seen her, he had decided to avoid her lest her beauty blind him towards her quite obvious faults. But what had his friend meant by ‘exploits’?
Oliver shook his head. ‘I will not deny that she is a looker,’ his friend agreed. ‘I am not blind, you know. But even though she claimed she could drive, I did not think she’d be such a dab hand with a whip.’
‘A what?’
‘A skilled driver,’ Oliver repeated. ‘This afternoon...’
‘She was shopping this afternoon,’ Fred said.
‘Not for long,’ Oliver said. ‘She drove my curricle back from Hounslow Heath,’ he continued, oblivious to Fred’s shock.
‘Drove, or raced?’ The road he was describing sounded like the Hounslow Road towards Colnbrook, a notorious straight that young men used to test the wind of their horses.
‘She tracked me down in Bond Street,’ Oliver admitted. ‘She was burdened with packages, so I offered her a ride back to your town house, and the next thing I knew...’
‘You gave her the reins,’ Fred said, shaking his head.
‘She bet me a guinea,’ Oliver added helplessly.
‘Oh. Well, then...’ he said, sarcastically. But Oliver could hardly be blamed. The girl was a corrupting influence on the best of men. ‘What were you thinking? She might have broken her neck. Then you could have taken your winnings from my dead wife’s reticule and bought me a funeral wreath for the front door.’
This was met by an embarrassed silence.
‘I trust you put her in her place,’ Fred said.
Oliver shrugged.
‘You did not let her beat you?’ There was such a thing as carrying chivalry too far, especially when it involved a friend’s wife.
‘I did not let her do anything,’ Oliver said sheepishly. ‘I drove out at a brisk pace. Not as fast as I might have, of course. I did not want to frighten the girl.’
‘Of course not,’ Fred agreed.
‘But fast enough to take the devil out of the horses and cause her to lose her bonnet.’
‘And I suppose she cried over that,’ Fred said, hoping.
‘Not a tear. She was too busy timing me with her little gold watch to notice. When we reached the mile marker, she held out her hands for the reins, turned the carriage like she’d been driving it for years and—’ Oliver clapped his hands ‘—we were off without giving the horses a chance to take a second breath.’
‘And she beat you,’ Fred said again.
‘I would have shown no mercy at all if I’d known she could drive like a demon.’ Oliver paused, as if suddenly remembering that this was not some fellow they both knew, but a woman. ‘A very attractive demon, of course,’ he finished.
‘Attractive?’ Fred repeated in a dark tone to remind that she was not just some girl, but the woman who had just become his wife.
‘Um, yes,’ Oliver said cautiously. ‘But also very ladylike, I am sure. She said she was taking her winnings to Bond Street to buy a new hat, since I had ruined hers.’ He grinned at the memory. ‘She is very like you were, at her age.’
‘When I was her age, I was still at Oxford.’ And many of the stories from school still made him wince in embarrassment.
‘Exactly. And a young hellion, just as we all were.’ Oliver smiled fondly at the memory. ‘I had no idea that young ladies could have the same daring streak in them. But apparently, some do.’
‘Then they should have it trained out of them,’ Fred said firmly.
‘I am sure there is no harm in it,’ Oliver said, attempting to bury a situation that he had enabled. ‘As long as you are not serious in thinking she will stay by the hearth fire while you neglect her.’
‘I have no intention of neglecting her,’ he said. The negligence would be mutual. It was hardly a mistake if he was doing exactly what she wanted by leaving her alone.
‘That is good to hear,’ Oliver said. ‘Whether you realise it or not, you married that girl to fill the void in your spirit that we have all noticed since you returned from fighting Napoleon.’
‘There is such a thing as too much spirit,’ Fred said darkly. ‘What will the world think if it finds that after barely a day of marriage she is cavorting with one of my oldest friends?’
‘Cavorting?’ At this, Oliver laughed. ‘Is that all you are worried about? I thought you were concerned about the danger of driving breakneck in an open carriage and the possibility that we could have upset and been injured or killed. But if it is our cavorting you are worried about...’
What was he saying? He was supposed to be newly married and in love. If not besotted, he should at least care enough about his wife to worry more about her safety than his own pride. ‘Of course,’ he corrected. ‘I am worried for her safety.’
‘And, of course, you are jealous,’ Oliver agreed, with another laugh. ‘Jealous that I will suddenly forget two decades of friendship and steal your bride. You are being ridiculous, but I forgive you for it. Men in love seldom think with the head on their shoulders.’
So his friend thought he was ruled by lust. They must be better actors than he had thought, if even those closest to him were seeing signs of affection between them. ‘I apologise. It is just as you say. I am being ridiculous.’
Oliver nodded. ‘It is understandable. As I said before, Challenger, what a woman.’ He was still smiling in admiration, as if Fred had somehow won first place, even though he had not been racing.