Page 52 of The Lady's Guide to Marrying a Viscount
“What a beauty!” Hugo held it up, the square-cut diamond sparkling in its delicate silver setting.
“Naturally, your bride should also have the matching pieces.” Geneviève had thought long and hard about parting with the gems Maxim had given her, but she knew it would be unjust to keep them. “I’ve laid them out on my dressing table for you.”
“Well, I never!” gasped Hugo. He was about to say something else, but beforehe had the chance, he lost his grasp on the ring. With a bark of alarm, he watched it roll, disappearing beneath one of the smaller tables.
Falling to the floor, he began skimming the carpet with his palms. Seeing their master in prone position and hopeful of a game, Muffin landed his huge paws on Hugo’s shoulders while Tootle let forth a full-throated howl.
“Silly dogs! Down! Off me, I say!”
Geneviève had a strange feeling ofdéjà vu.Notthe sight of Hugo rummaging under the sofa but something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“Got it!” Hugo sat up, holding the ring aloft. “Wouldn’t have done for one of the dogs to have swallowed it!”
“Well, it would have pushed back your plans by a few days,” Geneviève conceded.
“Here, let me help you up.” She reached down, offering Hugo a steadying hand. Rising, he gave her a swift kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you, Aunt Geneviève, and I do hope you’ll be here for the wedding.”
“Mais bien sûr!”
Geneviève wrapped Hugo in a hug. She was delighted it wouldn’t be she walking down the aisle with him. Far better she become his aunt through another connection altogether.
It really was turningout to be the most marvellous Christmas.
The eventsof the previous night still seemed unreal, as if he’d dreamt all that happiness. Mallon had been on tenterhooks through the morning.
It appeared only proper to depart Geneviève’s bedchamber before the rest of the household stirred. If he’d had his way, he’d have remained under the covers with her all day, and the next, right through until the new year. Withers could have brought periodic trays of sustenance. Everyone else could do as they liked!
However, Geneviève had insisted they do things properly.
She’d promised to speak to Hugo today, but Mallon remained nervous. Everything had happened so suddenly. What if she had a change of heart?
From the turn in the stairs, he’d seen her take Hugo into the drawing room. Looking at his watch, he’d noted the hour and the minute. How long would it take? The grandfather clock chimed eleven and then quarter past.
What could they be doing? Wasn’t it a simple matter?
Perhaps not. Hugo had surely never been in love before. His heart would be in pieces. Geneviève might be required to comfort him.
Mallon took several deep breaths.
Once Hugo had her in his arms, he might be tempted to kiss her.
Mallon rubbed his eyebrow.
Geneviève might, for form’s sake, respond, to avoid hurting Hugo’s feelings, but just a farewell kiss.
It would be fine.
Mallon paced the landing, looked out the window, then paced some more.
It was here that he’d smashed that blighter Slagsby on the nose. There was still a slight stain on the carpet where the blood had gushed. Not too visible among the burgundy patterning, but Mallon could see it. What had been going on that night? He’d never asked, and Geneviève hadn’t volunteered the information.
Not that he required the full story. Of course not. It was pretty apparent she wasn’t willing, and the bastard was forcing himself on her. What else did Mallon need to know? Perhaps why they’d both been on the landing in the first place at that time of night, and Geneviève in her nightclothes?
Mallon shook away the thought. He shouldn’t be so suspicious. Geneviève was not his mother. She had a healthy appetite in bedroom matters, but she’d declared her feelings for him most unequivocally, as they’d basked in the afterglow of the most wonderful of couplings.
He understood her now; and she understood him. They were going to thumb their noses at the world and marry as soon as possible.
