Page 29 of One Perfect Dance
“But you are dressed to go out, Mother, surely? I do not wish to spoil your evening. We could talk in the morning?” He sounded hopeful.
Regina was having none of it. “Good try, Geoffrey. I shall send my apologies, and we shall talk this evening.”
“Probably for the best,” Geoffrey muttered. He sketched a bow and as he did so, his right hand, which he had been holding behind his back, came into view, covered in bandages.
Regina gasped. “Geoffrey! Your hand.”
“Part of the story,” Geoffrey said, hiding it behind his back again. “A doctor has set the bones, Mother. You do not need to worry.” He was backing towards the door as he spoke, and he sidled out of the room on the last words.
Regina exchanged glances with Mary, her eyebrows raised. Mary grinned. “You heard the boy. You do not need to worry. That will be quite some story, I think.”
Regina sighed. “Little boys are easier,” she said.
She sent a message to Arial Stancroft, explaining that Geoffrey had arrived unexpectedly, and apologizing for upsetting Arial’s table, then another to the stable to cancel the evening’s carriage. The cook would need soothing. Regina went down to the kitchen in person.
“Master Geoffrey has arrived home unexpectedly, and so I will not be going out this evening,” she told that august personage. “We shall need dinner for three, rather than one.”
The cook stared at her, mouth open.
“I do apologize,” Regina added. “We will be satisfied with whatever you can manage at such short notice.”
“We’ll make sure the young master does not starve,” the cook assured her. Geoffrey’s appetite was legendary, and he was generous with his praise. Fortunately, the cook adored him.
“He appears to have broken his hand,” Regina added, “so he may be in need of some help with cutting meat and the like.”
“Hmm.” said the cook. “I will see what I can do.”
Sure enough, half an hour later she served a very credible first course—an oyster soup, a roast of beef, some of it already sliced into bite-sized pieces, a savory pie with shredded meat and potatoes, a bowl of buttered carrots and peas, and apple tarts.
Geoffrey, now neat and tidy, attacked the food as if he had seen none for a fortnight. He managed credibly with his left hand, apologizing before he picked his piece of pie up so he could take mouthfuls directly from the slice. “I left on the noon coach,” he explained, once he’d eaten enough to slow down between mouthfuls, “so haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Coaches do stop at inns along the way,” Cousin Mary commented.
Geoffrey shrugged. “No money,” he explained. He looked at Regina, his mouth in a wry twist. “That is part of the story,” he told her.
“Which can wait until after dinner,” Regina told him.
Whatever his story, it did not affect Geoffrey’s appetite. He made good inroads into the first course and took two slices of the chocolate tart that followed.
When she was sure he had eaten enough, Regina rose.
“We will take tea in the drawing room, Wilson,” she said.
“I shall have a tray in my room,” said Mary, “and leave you and Geoffrey to your chat.”
In the drawing room, Geoffrey prowled while the tea makings were brought in. When the maids had left the room, Regina patted the seat beside the couch.
“Come and sit down, my darling.”
Geoffrey straightened. “I would prefer to stand, Mother.”
Regina inclined her head. “As you wish.”
“The short story is that I was sent down for fighting. I—Ah—broke someone’s jaw.”
Regina froze, unable to react for a moment. Which was probably just as well because it gave her time to regain control. Her stomach roiled and her emotions surged between anger and horror, but she knew from experience that he would close up and stop talking if she showed any reaction.
“That’s why I have no money. I gave it all to pay for the doctor and for the nurse who was going to look after him while he recovers.” Geoffrey swallowed and shuffled from one foot to the other.
