As much as he craved having her all to himself, Geoff couldn't help noticing how Mary—by simply nodding her head or raising a brow—commanded the attention of the dinner table. He watched her banter with, cajole, and captivate the other diners while he sat quietly, taking it all in. It wasn't just her striking beauty, which was a given, it also was her spirit, her essence, that filled him with desire. When she greeted him at her home that evening, he had to resist the urge to press his hand into the curve of her back and draw her to him. He wanted her. He wanted her more powerfully than he ever had wanted any other woman in his life. Sitting through the dinner making small talk with strangers was torture, but he made an effort to engage in conversation lest the others observe his focus on the most alluring woman in the room.
Circumstances beyond his control had led him to lead a solitary life. He had been imbued with a sense of hopelessness from an early age, yet now, he could not overcome the desire to pursue her, despite the ramifications. He had been with other women, many of them in fact, but he eschewed permanent relationships for reasons he kept to himself, leaving some women bereft and others irate. No matter. He never had met a woman before who could tempt him to reveal the reason for his solitude. Until now. She had filled his brain from the moment he first saw her, and now he knew, absolutely, he would move heaven and earth to possess her. He longed for the infernal dinner to end so he could be with her, touch her, run his hands along the lines of her body, envelop her in the heat of his arms.
He had to have her, the consequences be damned.
Dinner at the Richardson's home proved to be one of the most pleasant evenings Mary could remember. Eight couples sat around the table enjoying the delicious meal and clever conversation, which were followed by music in the drawing room. Geoff was a quiet dinner partner, tending to speak only when asked a question; however, when he and Mary sat together after dinner he gave her his full attention and was rather forthcoming himself.
"How did you leave…uh…Downton, right? It must have been difficult."
"Yes, but things were settling down somewhat, I suppose. Because Papa had been such a powerful presence, it will be hard for everyone to deal with his absence." She was quiet for a moment. "Of course, I haven't lived there for a number of years, but seeing it again made me nostalgic because it was my home for so long. It was hard to leave, but once Mama decided to travel to America, I had no choice but to return to London with her."
"So you would have stayed longer otherwise?" He cocked an eyebrow while asking the question.
"Oh, I doubt it. It was time to leave. Being there was difficult for a number of reasons. Getting home to London was a relief, actually."
"I would have had a hard time leaving Hanford Hall although if my older brother hadn't died in the war, I suppose I would have had to." He looked pensively at the ceiling as if remembering a struggle of some sort.
Mary placed her hand on his arm and said softly, "I didn't know you lost a brother. I'm so sorry."
"Thank you. Colin and I weren't particularly close, but I became the Marquess of Hanford when he died. Now, of course…."
"Now you're the Duke of Benningham. That's quite an honor as well as a responsibility. You mentioned that your father died recently. It seems we have something in common. Were you close to him?"
"I suppose as close as any son raised by nannies could be. Once I came of age, it was as if he finally recognized my existence." He smirked and shook his head. "By the way, I suspect we have more than just a little in common."
Mary blushed and laughed. "Perhaps. But, Geoff, look on the bright side. At least you weren't a daughter whose sole purpose for being was to marry the heir and continue the line."
"Is that what caused the rift between you and…and the new Earl?" Mary's surprised expression caused him to add quickly, "I'm sorry, Mary. It's just I couldn't help noticing that you two appeared uncomfortable around each other. I just wondered…"
"My relationship with Matthew was complicated and ended long ago, Geoff. He married someone else, and I moved to London. It's that simple and that difficult. I hadn't seen him for six years. It would have been longer than that if Papa hadn't died."
"But you loved him once." His grey eyes darkened and narrowed.
"That's very astute of you. Yes, I did. But as I said, it's been over for some time." She wondered about the truth of that statement but hoped Geoff believed her.
"Well, luckily for me, you did leave Downton. I would hate to think we would have met as the Countess of Grantham and the Duke of Benningham. That would've complicated things." He smiled slyly and kissed the back of her hand.
Mary blushed once again.
The Bentley was parked in front of Painswick House, Geoff at the wheel and Mary in the passenger seat. Mary's heart raced as she waited for him to exit the motor and open her door. She anticipated a goodnight kiss and imagined he did, too. He didn't move. She looked at him quizzically as he turned to face her.
He took her face in his hands, his hungry grey eyes peering into her questioning brown ones. "God, I knew when I first saw you at Downton, I had to have you in my life. I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since."
He pulled her roughly toward him and kissed her passionately. His muscular arms moved to her back, and she grasped at his shoulders and groaned into his mouth. Where Matthew's kisses were gentle and probing, Geoff's kisses were hard and demanding. She felt as if he were taking her captive, assertively exploring her mouth with his tongue and moving his hands forcefully from her neck to her back and pressing her upper body to his. How strong he was! The kiss finally ended when he allowed her to push him away.
She leaned against the motor's door and tried to catch her breath. "Geoff, please! We hardly know each other," she gasped, stunned by his aggressiveness. This behavior was surprising because he had been so genteel at the Richardson's.
"But that's the point, Mary. I want to know everything about you. I haven't been able to get you out of my mind since we met. If I didn't know better, I'd say you had bewitched me." Eyeing her amorously, he leaned toward her, and she placed her hands on his chest to stop him. She wasn't afraid of him at that moment, but she was concerned that he would ask more of her than she was willing to give. She was startled as he clasped her wrists and drew her toward him again. He stared determinedly at her and said tersely, "I want you, Mary. I want you more than I've ever wanted any other woman." His eyes narrowed. "I warn you, I don't have much patience." She attempted to pull away, but he held her fast. "There's no need to struggle, Mary. I understand your reticence. You must know, however, that I'm not deterred."
Her dark eyes flashed as he looked at her intently. "And you must understand that I have no intention of letting myself be seduced at this point in our relationship. I enjoy your company, truly I do, but I certainly do not know you well enough to agree to what you're suggesting. Now, let go of me." As attracted as she was to him, she resolved to stay as cool and careful as possible, sensing his volatile nature. He was so different from the way he had been just an hour or so ago.
He released her wrists. "Then I will do all I can to rectify that situation."
The next morning Geoff arrived at her doorstep, roses in hand, asking for her forgiveness. She met with him in the parlour and sat stiffly as he apologized profusely.
"Really, Geoff, that's not necessary." Despite her initial misgivings, she found the fervor of his apology almost charming and could read the sincerity in his troubled grey eyes.
"But it is, Mary. There's no excuse for my behavior last evening. All I can say is I was overcome being in your presence, but I promise, this never, never will happen again." He looked at her with such contrition, her heart went out to him.
"Very well, Geoff. I must admit, though, your behavior surprised me…" She lowered her head and raised an eyebrow. She wasn't quite ready to let him off the hook.
"And it should have! My behavior was abhorrent, but I hope you'll allow me to make it up to you. Please know I'll never do anything to hurt you or to make you feel afraid."
Mary replied with a smile, "I wasn't afraid of you, Geoff. I just was taken aback and didn't know what to think. Still, I appreciate your coming, and don't worry, I won't hold it against you."
Geoff's relief was obvious. He realized his actions the previous evening could have ended the relationship before it even had a chance to commence. He sighed deeply and rose, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips. "I'll be back in London in July. Perhaps then we could solidify your plans for visiting Northampton in August?"
"Of course, Geoff. I'll look forward to it."
Relieved that he had averted disaster, he changed the subject. "Oh, by the way, I'm looking to purchase an Arabian to add to my stable of horses. Could I impose upon you to look over some information about a few of the ones I'm considering?"
"Well…I don't know a lot about Arabians, but I'll be happy to help if I can. By all means, send along the paperwork, and I'll let you know what I think."
"Excellent. I'd like to have the horse on the premises before your arrival." His eyes softened again. "And Mary, thank you for seeing me this morning. I was afraid you wouldn't." They moved toward the door. "Now I must go. I have a meeting with my banker and then I'm off to Northampton."
"Safe travels, Geoff. I appreciate your coming by."
"Good bye, dear Mary."
After Geoff's departure, Mary returned to the parlour and stood next to a vase filled with roses, inhaling their mesmerizing scent and musing about what had been a most unusual morning.
As Mary settled back into her life in London, Matthew was adjusting to his new life in the Abbey. To his disappointment, Isobel decided to stay at Crawley House at least until Cora returned and decided where she would live. Matthew almost hoped Cora would unseat Isobel just so he could have some company. When he wasn't working, he found himself wandering through the Abbey looking at portraits, investigating the wings, and exploring the rooms. It took him several days to convince Carson and Mrs. Hughes, much to their consternation, that he didn't need an escort as he wandered about.
He started his room exploration with the attics and was fascinated by what was stored there. In addition to furniture and decorative items, there were trunks and chests filled with family heirlooms and clothing. Some trunks were labeled with the names of former earls or countesses, and he was amused to find men's suits made of French silk and ladies' stiff-bodied gowns. He couldn't help smiling, thinking that it wouldn't be difficult to find clothing for a costume ball among all the clothing stored there. He found Robert's uniform from the Boer War and Cora's wedding dress, which appeared to be wrapped lovingly in layers of tissue. He also discovered trunks labeled "Mary," "Edith," and "Sybil." He couldn't resist opening Mary's trunk and became quite emotional to discover childhood mementos that included dolls, toys, clothing, and other childhood items. There were tiny shoes—still shiny—and hair ribbons and tarnished silver rattles monogrammed with MJC. A well-worn, stuffed rabbit, its fur mottled and faded, stared up at him with its one remaining eye, and he imagined Mary as a child holding it lovingly as she slept. The rabbit reminded him of another precious toy she had given to him long ago, which he kept in the back of a drawer in his desk downstairs.
When he finished exploring the attics, he worked his way down, finally ending on the family corridor where his own room was located. He had asked Mrs. Hughes for one of the smaller bedrooms, believing extra space was a luxury he just didn't need. She chose one decorated in shades of blue, and although she offered to change the décor, he didn't feel the expense was necessary. It was comfortable and utilitarian. He needed nothing more. He brought with him a few pieces from Crawley House—his father's dressing table, his chair from university, and other personal items he'd held on to since living in Manchester.
He still had trouble believing that this massive structure now was his home. The rooms downstairs were familiar, at least. He had spent so much time in the dining room and library, for example, that he appreciated their familiarity. As he explored upstairs, though, he felt almost like a trespasser, wondering if he ever would feel comfortable. Looking into Robert and Cora's room, he was struck with melancholy. The bed was stripped, and the door to Robert's dressing room was open, revealing an empty closet and a cleared dressing table. Obviously, the staff already had moved Robert's clothing and personal items. Matthew hoped Cora had been able to go through Robert's things before they were put into storage. He made a mental note to let Cora know she was welcome to take anything she found memorable to her new home. He closed the door quietly and moved on to the other rooms.
When he opened the door to the red room, he knew immediately whose it was. There was no mistaking the scent—Mary. He froze, his hand gripping the doorknob. He often wondered about this room, fantasizing about its occupant and wishing he could have a glimpse into her private world. Now that he had the chance, he could barely move. The red papered walls, dark furniture, and luxurious linens seemed to whisper her name.
She had slept on that bed.
She had lounged on that chaise.
She had dressed and undressed here.
Years ago, this room knew all her secrets.
He walked to the vanity and pictured her sitting there, readying herself for some important social engagement or simply preparing for her day. He looked into the mirror and conjured her image. He ran his hand along the top of the vanity, as if he could feel her soft hands as they applied the intoxicating scent that wafted from her every time she moved. Unable to control his curiosity, he opened the upper right-hand drawer. He was not surprised to find it empty, but he was disappointed nonetheless. Opening the drawer below it, he glimpsed the edge of something lodged at the back. With a little effort, he pulled it from the drawer and was stunned to see it was an old, well-worn photograph of him, taken years earlier before the war. How did she come into possession of that, and why did she have it? It made him sad to think she had left it behind deliberately when she moved to London. Judging from its somewhat ragged appearance, it had been handled often, which gave him some solace but also filled him with regret.
He realized she had left him behind in every way.