Under the Kissing Bough Read Online Free
perform the rites, for it'll have to be the new vicar—what's his name, Cleverly...Cheesley..."
"Cheeverly," Geoff said, almost spitting out the word.
Andrew and Patrick exchanged a dark look. Then Andrew sat up and forced a brighter tone. "Yes, well, Cheesley or whatever will have to do it up since I've yet to take my orders. But I don't think your bride will mind."
"Don't know about that," Patrick said. "Seems to me, you give a female a wedding and all of a sudden they've an opinion on every detail of your life. Happened to poor Smyth-Winston when he married that Telford chit. She had him jumping through hoops for her. Taking her everywhere. Buying her everything."
"Oh, damn," Geoff muttered, suddenly recalling he had indeed made a promise to take his intended somewhere. He glanced down at morning clothes, in which he had made his proposal and afterwards had wandered about London for far too long. They were not the formal breeches and coat he would need to attend any sort of do.
He swore again, put down his glass and rose. "Your pardon, but I must go."
"Go? Go where?" Patrick asked, startled.
Geoff paused, a cynical smile on his lips. "I have a hoop to jump through."
Andrew and Patrick watched their elder brother stride across the deep carpets and out the portal of White's. Andrew gave a deep sigh. "Ten to one this doesn't turn out well."
Patrick's scowl deepened, and a lock of dark hair fell across his forehead, making him look like a brooding poet. "It can't end like last time. Geoff may not say much about it, but I'm not having him cut up like that again. And you heard him when he spoke that fellow's name."
Andrew let out a sigh. "Yes, I'd hoped he'd have it out of his system by now. But I am not certain what we can do about any of this. Geoff won't thank us for any interference. He's too accustomed to being the capable elder brother."
Patrick studied the bubbles in his glass a moment before he looked up, his mouth set and the look in his eyes stubborn. "Yes, he is. But if we don't do something, I'll lay you ten to one that Geoff makes a mull of this with that temper of his. You know that must be what happened last time."
Stirring in his chair, Andrew shot an uneasy glance at his brother. "I know no such thing. And neither do you. But you are right on one account. We'd best keep an eye on proceedings."
He tossed back his champagne and smiled. "So who is on guard duty tonight?"
* * *
It took three tours of the Farquar's ballroom for Geoff to find his quarry.
He had started to think that Lord and Lady Rushton had brought their daughters and taken them away again when he finally spotted her, for the rooms were not that thick with company. How could they be on a chilly November night, with so many already fled from London?
Fox hunting had begun, and so had pheasant season. Society bucks had fled either to the hunt field, taking their mistresses with them, or to the shooting boxes on their country estates. A few peers had stayed to attend to Parliament, but when that business was done, they, like the rest of the decent world, would abandon London, leaving it coal-yellowed skies to the merchants and the unfashionable until next spring came and the weather improved again. Christmas was the season for country parties, and pleasant entertainment at tidy, warm estates.
However, even a London thin of company was still a place where the world craved its entertainment. Events had to be held for gossip to spread and scandal to form. Hence the Farquar's ball.
It occurred suddenly to him that Lady Rushton would want to hold an engagement ball. He did not want to linger in London, but perhaps his bride-to-be, and her family, wanted to make the most of her success. She would probably want to shop, as well, for bride things and such, although he had no clear idea, he realized, just what she might want for her trousseau. Bride clothes had not occupied his mind the last time he had proposed.
Scowling at that thought, he
"Cheeverly," Geoff said, almost spitting out the word.
Andrew and Patrick exchanged a dark look. Then Andrew sat up and forced a brighter tone. "Yes, well, Cheesley or whatever will have to do it up since I've yet to take my orders. But I don't think your bride will mind."
"Don't know about that," Patrick said. "Seems to me, you give a female a wedding and all of a sudden they've an opinion on every detail of your life. Happened to poor Smyth-Winston when he married that Telford chit. She had him jumping through hoops for her. Taking her everywhere. Buying her everything."
"Oh, damn," Geoff muttered, suddenly recalling he had indeed made a promise to take his intended somewhere. He glanced down at morning clothes, in which he had made his proposal and afterwards had wandered about London for far too long. They were not the formal breeches and coat he would need to attend any sort of do.
He swore again, put down his glass and rose. "Your pardon, but I must go."
"Go? Go where?" Patrick asked, startled.
Geoff paused, a cynical smile on his lips. "I have a hoop to jump through."
Andrew and Patrick watched their elder brother stride across the deep carpets and out the portal of White's. Andrew gave a deep sigh. "Ten to one this doesn't turn out well."
Patrick's scowl deepened, and a lock of dark hair fell across his forehead, making him look like a brooding poet. "It can't end like last time. Geoff may not say much about it, but I'm not having him cut up like that again. And you heard him when he spoke that fellow's name."
Andrew let out a sigh. "Yes, I'd hoped he'd have it out of his system by now. But I am not certain what we can do about any of this. Geoff won't thank us for any interference. He's too accustomed to being the capable elder brother."
Patrick studied the bubbles in his glass a moment before he looked up, his mouth set and the look in his eyes stubborn. "Yes, he is. But if we don't do something, I'll lay you ten to one that Geoff makes a mull of this with that temper of his. You know that must be what happened last time."
Stirring in his chair, Andrew shot an uneasy glance at his brother. "I know no such thing. And neither do you. But you are right on one account. We'd best keep an eye on proceedings."
He tossed back his champagne and smiled. "So who is on guard duty tonight?"
* * *
It took three tours of the Farquar's ballroom for Geoff to find his quarry.
He had started to think that Lord and Lady Rushton had brought their daughters and taken them away again when he finally spotted her, for the rooms were not that thick with company. How could they be on a chilly November night, with so many already fled from London?
Fox hunting had begun, and so had pheasant season. Society bucks had fled either to the hunt field, taking their mistresses with them, or to the shooting boxes on their country estates. A few peers had stayed to attend to Parliament, but when that business was done, they, like the rest of the decent world, would abandon London, leaving it coal-yellowed skies to the merchants and the unfashionable until next spring came and the weather improved again. Christmas was the season for country parties, and pleasant entertainment at tidy, warm estates.
However, even a London thin of company was still a place where the world craved its entertainment. Events had to be held for gossip to spread and scandal to form. Hence the Farquar's ball.
It occurred suddenly to him that Lady Rushton would want to hold an engagement ball. He did not want to linger in London, but perhaps his bride-to-be, and her family, wanted to make the most of her success. She would probably want to shop, as well, for bride things and such, although he had no clear idea, he realized, just what she might want for her trousseau. Bride clothes had not occupied his mind the last time he had proposed.
Scowling at that thought, he
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