Chapter 14
Caroline felt dazed for the remainder of the short drive to Gervaise’s uncle’s house. She had received an indecent proposition. She could not quite believe it still. If she did not end up his uncle’s secretary, she could be Gervaise’s mistress instead. Her head reeled.
What would it be like, being the mistress of an earl? Of course, Gervaise had maintained all along that he had no money, so the idea of his supporting her was questionable to say the least. Then again, she had seen little evidence to indicate he was actually poor.
He certainly did not live the lifestyle of a pauper.
His clothes were exquisite as was his every possession, from his Moroccan leather luggage to his silver cigarette case.
He had paid for every expense during their four-day journey without a murmur and indeed, had treated Canon Petrie to several meals without even blinking an eyelid.
It seemed his idea of being flat broke differed wildly from Caroline’s.
Then again, he had no valet and did not possess his own carriage and horses. By his own admission, he owned no home, and since his uncle had disowned him, he had spent his time bouncing from one friend to another as an eternal houseguest. How could such a man support himself, let alone another?
The cab pulled up at this point and Caroline’s ruminations came to an abrupt halt.
“We’re here,” Gervaise said, flinging open the door. “Pass me down your bag.”
Caroline did so, and he helped her down, then retrieved the rest of his cases as she stared up at the imposing townhouse, filled with misgivings.
The door opened and a butler peered out, blinking rapidly into the failing light.
“That you, Macey?” Gervaise asked. “Be an angel and send out James to fetch in our bags, would you?”
“Right away, milord.”
“Leave it,” Gervaise said as Caroline stooped to pick up her carpet bag. He extended his arm to her. “Come and meet my uncle George.” They ascended the steps as a footman in full livery bounded down them to gather up their things.
“Evening, milord,” he commented, casting a quick curious eye over Caroline.
“Evening, James. Is my uncle in his library?”
“He is indeed, milord.”
Another liveried footman met them in the hall and took Caroline’s cloak from her.
Gervaise reached into his pockets and retrieved the kittens, passing them to the bewildered-looking footman. “Take these two along to the kitchen, Kenneth. Have them fed and watered.”
“Er, yes, milord,” he said, struggling to keep his surprise from his face and failing.
Gervaise shrugged out of his coat and handed it over before taking Caroline’s arm again.
“Just through here,” he murmured, leading her along a hallway thronged with gloomy paintings of overripe fruits and dead game birds.
“Rather good, aren’t they?” he commented.
“Seventeenth-century Dutch. The library is just along here.” They stopped before a glossy wooden door and he rapped upon it three times.
“Come in,” called out a voice, and Gervaise opened the door and led Caroline inside a large library, richly furnished with red velvet seats and many bookcases.
In the middle of the room behind a large desk sat a corpulent man with fluffy salt-and-pepper sideburns.
He was wearing an opulent dressing gown and a silken cap upon his head.
His eyebrows bristled at the sight of Gervaise, and his face assumed a petulant expression.
“Uncle, I have returned to London,” Gervaise announced breezily, though his uncle clearly knew this already as the butler, Macey, hovered in the background pouring drinks out of a decanter. “Your letter indicated you wished to see me immediately on my return.”
“About time,” George Langdon grumbled. “I’ve had the devil of a job trying to locate you these past three months, you scoundrel!”
“Oh?” Gervaise led Caroline to a plush red sofa and indicated she should take a seat there. She perched herself on the edge and he sat down beside her.
“Whisky and soda, milord,” Macey said, appearing at his elbow with a tray.
“Thank you, Macey.”
“And for the lady, a glass of negus,” he said, presenting a glass to Caroline.
“Thank you kindly,” she said, accepting it.
She felt extremely conscious of the fact no introductions had been made.
Why was that? she wondered with some apprehension.
Because Gervaise was in disgrace with his uncle?
She eyed him sidelong. If so, he did not look remotely perturbed about it.
Or was it more to do with the fact he no longer envisaged her in a secretarial role?
“I had no idea I was so in demand,” Gervaise said after taking a sip of his whisky. He settled back into the sofa. “Is there some particular reason you wished to speak to me, Uncle? After our last interview I was under the impression I was the last person you wanted to see.”
George Langdon cleared his throat and steepled his fingers. “I was hoping you might have come to your senses since then, my boy,” he said sternly. “Miss Blessing is a pearl—”
“Miss Blessing?” Gervaise echoed. “Surely not, Uncle. You must have married the chit by now.”
A hunted look came over George Langdon’s face. “Who told you about that?” he demanded hoarsely.
Gervaise’s eyebrows rose. “Why you did, Uncle. Don’t you remember? You said that if I did not have the good sense to secure Miss Blessing’s hand in marriage, then you most assuredly would.”
“Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” The older man retrieved a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and mopped his brow. “Fool that I am,” he muttered under his breath.
“And you are a man of your word,” Gervaise reminded him.
“Yes, I am!” the other agreed hollowly. “Which is why I now find myself in this appalling predicament!”
“Miss Beryl does not appear in the light of blessing, now that it is you who are required to march up the aisle with her?” his recalcitrant nephew enquired politely.
His uncle regarded him coldly. “Miss Blessing is a pearl among women,” he began again. “Any man would be fortunate indeed to call her his wife!”
“And I offer you both my hearty felicitations for your upcoming nuptials,” his nephew responded blandly. He reached into his jacket and withdrew his cigarette case.
“I cannot possibly marry her!” his uncle cried. “I am far too old and stuck in my ways to take on such a young wife at my time of life. Such a thing would be absurd! No, the only viable solution is for you to marry Miss Blessing and to do so at once!”
Gervaise paused, lifted his whisky glass, and drained it, then set it carefully down.
“Alas, Uncle, I am no longer the carefree bachelor I once was,” he said briskly.
“May I introduce to you your new niece by marriage?” He turned to Caroline, taking her hand in his and carrying it to his lips.
George Langdon’s mouth opened and closed without speech.
“My wife’s name is Caroline,” he prompted when word seemed to fail the old man.
“You must offer us your congratulations. We were married by Canon Petrie of St. Catherine’s church and have been man and wife these past four days.
” Caroline managed to hold his gaze, though she could feel the color creeping into her cheeks. What mad start was this?
“Greet your new uncle, my darling,” Gervaise said blandly.
Mercifully, years of being placed in deplorable social situations had prepared her well for such challenges. “How do you do, Mr. Langdon,” she uttered politely. Gervaise’s uncle turned a rather unbecoming shade of purple.
“You mean to tell me,” the old man huffed, glaring at Gervaise, “that you have had the temerity to marry without my permission?”
“I have,” Gervaise supplied smoothly.
“Despite knowing it was the fondest wish of my heart that you should be joined in holy matrimony with Miss Blessing?”
“Afraid so, old boy,” Gervaise confirmed, flipping open his cigarette case and placing one between his lips.
“Gervaise,” his uncle pronounced grandly, drawing himself up to his fullest height. “You have disappointed me.”
“Neither for the first nor the last time, I suspect,” his nephew replied, striking a match.
“Grievously!” his uncle huffed.
“Allow me to tell you some of Caroline’s finer points,” Gervaise suggested. “They might cheer you up.”
“I do not wish to hear them!” Uncle George retorted with spirit. Caroline felt a flicker of disappointment. She would have liked to have heard what points she possessed that Gervaise considered an asset. “I consider your actions an outrage! An insult to both me and the Blessings. As my heir—”
“But Uncle, I understood you had quite disinherited me,” Gervaise protested, blowing out a plume of smoke.
“Of course I have not, sir! I hope I know my duty toward our family name rather better than that!”
Gervaise clicked his tongue. “Well, if I had not thought my cause to be altogether hopeless perhaps I would not have taken such a perilous step,” he said sorrowfully. “Our last meeting cast me into such a flat despair that it scarcely seemed to matter who I married after that.”
His uncle seethed in his seat as Caroline reflected it was just as well she was not really Gervaise’s four-day bride. The blow to her pride would have been considerable.
“I must ask you to leave my house, Gervaise,” George Langdon said with affronted dignity. “I am disappointed beyond belief, aggrieved, appalled, and inconsolable.”
“I quite understand,” Gervaise said, springing up from his seat. He extended his hand to Caroline. “Come along, my precious. Let us leave forthwith. We are cast out into the street it seems.”