Chapter 6
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“If I don’t survive, I bequeath you my blue silk waistcoat,” Garret told Dolfy as they approached the Stanhopes’ sprawling Grosvenor Square home.
“The waistcoat you borrowed from me last month and never returned?” Dolfy drawled. “I’m touched. In any case, you needn’t worry about Lady Callista murdering you in her drawing room. She’s far more likely to trample you on Rotten Row and leave you to bleed in the dust.”
“That scenario is terrifyingly plausible.” Garret decided it might be best to avoid Hyde Park for the foreseeable future. In fact, he was having second thoughts about the wisdom of calling on Lady Callista. “Do you think my mother will believe Lady Callista was not at home?”
Dolfy, who had been walking with his shoulders stooped as though bowed under the weight of supporting Garret in this endeavor, straightened.
“We could go to the Blue Boar. Granville owes me a half sovereign, and he’s always there this time of day.
You could stack eight on the Tower o’ Tankards yet! ”
“Couldn’t hurt to have a drink and come back when Lady Callista has calmed down,” Garret mused.
Perhaps he could return tomorrow or next week.
In the meantime, he might go to Brown’s Coffee Shop and catch a glimpse of Tamsin.
Except he needed a solid plan to help her before he could approach her again.
“Too late.” Dolfy pointed to the steps leading to the Stanhope residence. “One of your brothers has spotted us. I never know which is which unless it’s Westerley.”
Garret blew out a breath and felt his own shoulders droop. Daire was squinting at him as he jogged down the steps. “Too late to turn back now. My mother clearly has spies,” Garret muttered as he came face-to-face with his younger sibling.
“What are you doing here?” Daire demanded.
Garret raised his brows in surprise. Perhaps Daire was not here as a spy. Was he courting Lady Callista? “I’m here to apologize to Lady Callista. What are you doing here?”
“Nothing,” Daire said much too quickly.
Garret’s eyes narrowed, and Dolfy said, “We saw you come from the house. Were you calling on Lady Callista?”
Daire opened his mouth then closed it abruptly. He looked about, as though searching for an escape. Strange behavior, Garret thought. Daire almost looked as though he were trying to hide something.
“Are you certain you want to go in there?” Daire jerked his head toward the house. “She’s still fuming.”
Garret forgot all about Daire’s peculiar behavior. “I’m not certain at all, but if I don’t face Lady Callista’s wrath, I can’t go home. Mama is furious with me for angering her.”
Daire eyed him sympathetically. “You could always move abroad.”
“Don’t think I haven’t considered it.” He studied the house again. “Between Mama and Lady Callista, Mama is the more fearsome. And I have Dolfy to protect me if Lady Callista begins throwing objects.”
“Oh no.” Dolfy shook his head. “I had enough of warfare in the navy. I shall wait for you in the foyer.”
“Coward.”
“Guilty as charged,” Dolfy retorted as he started up the steps to the Stanhopes’ door.
Garret made to follow him. The sooner the groveling was over, the sooner he could start looking for this Snoozer. Garret paused on the first step and looked at Daire again. His brother was a businessman. This Snoozer was a businessman of sorts. Perhaps…
“Good luck.”
Daire started away, but Garret grabbed his arm. He wasn’t exactly trying to put off the meeting with Lady Callista, but he wasn’t in a hurry either. “What do you know of chimney sweeps?” he asked.
“Chimney sweeps?”
“Right. What do you know about them and their business practices?”
“I know they clean chimneys. That’s the extent of it. Why?” Daire stared at him as though he’d just sprouted another head.
“I need to ask one of them myself,” Garret said, looking up at the roofs of the nearby residences. “Why is it when you don’t need a broomer, they’re everywhere, and when you do, none is to be found?”
“Do you have a chimney that needs sweeping?” Daire asked. “Or are you looking for a profession?”
Garret pointed at Daire. “Mama would know a chimney sweep. Or at least she’d know who cleans the chimneys on Hanover Square.”
“I highly doubt Mama speaks to such men, but Mrs. Ashworth would know,” Daire said, referring to their housekeeper.
“Fair point,” Garret said. “I’ll speak to Mrs. Ashworth.” He started back down the stairs then swore and turned back again. “I can’t go home until I speak to Lady Callista.”
“Then you’d better get it over with.”
“You’re right.” Garret adjusted his hat, took a breath, and marched up the stairs.
Dolfy had already made himself comfortable in a Chippendale chair in the airy foyer.
Garret gave him a mournful look as he followed the Stanhopes’ butler up the stairs to the drawing room.
He knew how King Charles I must have felt as he climbed the scaffold to his execution.
Garret thought perhaps execution would be kinder than the debasement ahead of him.
Perhaps flowers or candied violets or a new horse would soften Lady Callista.
“Mr. Garret Kildare,” the butler intoned, and Lady Callista, who was sitting with her mother on a couch in the center of the robin’s-egg blue drawing room, stiffened and stabbed a needle into the piece of cloth she held.
Too late, Garret realized he had absolutely nothing to give as a peace offering.
“Ladies.” Garret bowed as deeply as he might without falling over. “Forgive the intrusion, but I believe I owe Lady Callista an apology.” No point in beating about the metaphorical bush.
“Excuse me.” Her mother rose and retreated to the other side of the room—far enough away to give him privacy for groveling but not so far that she couldn’t hear every word.
Lady Callista stabbed the cloth again. “Go on, Mr. Kildare. You were saying?”
Garret crumpled his hat in his hands and hung his head. He had not been asked to sit, and so he stood stiffly. “My lady, I do not claim to be an intelligent man.”
“An oxymoron if I ever heard one.” She yanked her thread through the cloth hard enough to make Garret flinch.
“But it has been pointed out to me that my behavior last night fell short. I am afraid I departed from you quite abruptly and without taking my leave.”
“I can only assume your house was on fire,” she said, looking up at him briefly.
“Something like that.” Probably best not to mention Miss Archer.
“No sooner had I left your presence than I realized my error. I come today, hat in hand as you see, to beg your pardon for my ungentlemanly conduct last night. I was unforgivably rude, and I understand if you never wish to speak to me again.” Dare he hope she never wished to speak to him again?
Lady Callista lowered her sewing and studied him, her brown eyes assessing. “I admit you rather hurt my feelings. I was afraid I went on too long about horses.”
“Not at all,” Garret said far too quickly. “I find the topic fascinating.”
“That is not what you said last night. I believe you used the phrase I don’t care a whit.”
“I must have been delirious.”
“I should remain angry with you…”
Garret thought about his mother. She would have his head if he didn’t make this right. “My lady, I beg you to reconsider.”
She took a breath. “I find it difficult to stay angry with you. You’re far too handsome for your own good.”
Garret gave her a rakish smile. “Then you do forgive me?” He tried to remind himself about her thirty thousand pounds. “I’d love to hear more about horses the next time we meet.”
She lifted a brow. “Would you?”
Garret was so relieved things had gone his way, he didn’t realize he’d stepped into a marshy morass. “Er—yes. In fact, I wonder what you think about bridles and bits. I was considering the question all morning, and so caught up was I that I quite forgot to bring you flowers.”
She glanced at his hands, which held only his hat. “Well, I suppose you might make it up to me.”
Why did he feel as though he was sinking? He reached for a lifeline. “I would like nothing better. I’ll bring you a dozen roses tomorrow.”
“I’d rather you take me driving.”
The floor beneath him seemed to disappear, and he gripped his hat tightly to keep from wincing. He couldn’t seem to make himself reply, and after a prolonged silence, Lady Callista cleared her throat. Garret managed to force four words through his locked jaw. “I’d like nothing better.”
“Good. When?”
“Next…” Was next year too far away? What about never? “Next week?” he said weakly. At least he’d be finished with the chimney sweep matter by then.
Lady Callista inclined her head. “I don’t like to be disappointed, Mr. Kildare. Don’t do it again, or even your charming smile won’t save you.”
He bowed. “Yes, my lady.”
She waved a hand at him. “You are excused.”
“Thank you, my lady.” He backed out of the drawing room as though she were the queen. As soon as the butler closed the door, Garret doubled over and gulped in air. She hadn’t thrown anything at him, but he hadn’t exactly emerged unscathed. Dolfy stood when Garret started down the steps.
“I didn’t hear any yelling,” Dolfy said. “But you do look a bit peaked, Red. Your hat is a lost cause.”
Garret glanced at his hat, now smashed in his fist. “She wasn’t angry, Dolfy. It was worse than that.”
“What’s worse?”
“I believe she was disappointed.”
Dolfy laughed. “This calls for a drink.”
Garret shook his head. “I wish I could.” Jesus Christ, but he could have used a drink. “But I have another matter to attend to.”
“Exactly how many women did you offend last night?” Dolfy asked as the butler opened the door.
“I’ll try to make it to the Blue Boar later,” Garret said, spotting Daire still loitering at the edge of the park. What the devil was he still doing here? “Excuse me.”
Dolfy went his own way, while Daire crossed the street and gave Garret the once-over. “Not off to play with your friend?” he asked.
Garret shook his head and tried to straighten his disheveled cravat.