Chapter9
Geoffrey stared at him as though he, too, had forgotten until this moment that he was attending the festivities as an independently moneyed gentleman, rather than as manservant to a lord.If he wanted to dance, he could.With any woman he pleased.Donovan—or his brother—would make the introductions as if the duke’s stomach wasn’t churning with unreasonable jealousy at the sight of Geoffrey taking someone else into his arms, if only for a public, twenty-minute set.
“If you are not dancing, neither shall I,” was all Geoffrey said.
It did not answer the question of whether hewishedto.Of whether the comments about pretty young ladies were meant for Donovan’s benefit, or expressing the direction of Geoffrey’s own desires.Donovan only found men attractive, but that did not mean Geoffrey suffered the same limitation.Nor were there any promises between them.No ground to stand on to prevent Geoffrey from engaging in some other flirtation, be it with gentleman or lady.
After all, they were here to select Donovan a bride.
No.He could not ruin this holiday.The bride could wait until after Geoffrey left his employ, so as to fully enjoy every remaining moment of his company.
“An early supper?”Donovan asked.
Geoffrey pantomimed fainting relief.“Posthaste.Which tavern shall we try this evening?”
“We’ve not yet frequented the Cork & Cupid.”
“Let us rectify that error at once.”
They turned their boots toward the main street through town.
Instead of smiling in anticipation, Donovan clenched his teeth in trepidation.This was the final night of the festival, and one of the last nights he would ever share with Geoffrey.
Yes, Donovancouldoffer his valet his post back.He might be able to persuade Geoffrey to accept a permanent position.But that would only reinstate the return of years of misery in which Geoffrey would be close enough to touch, yet forever out of reach.
Once there was a wife on the premises, Donovan was not so shabby a man as to contemplate cuckolding her.He would be the best husband he could, just as he made every effort to be the best duke as he was able.
No matter how he calculated, the result was always the same: He and Geoffrey could not be together.
“How many are ye?”asked a harried serving girl when they entered the tavern.
“Two, please,” responded Donovan.
“You’re doubly in luck.”She pointed with a dish rag.“There’s naught but two seats left, and they’re right next to the musicians, who’ll be starting their show at any moment.”
“‘Show’?”Donovan repeated with curiosity.
“Got to compete with the grand ball, don’t we?No room for an orchestra, but we can fit a pair of violinists.”
“Violins!”Geoffrey exclaimed, smiling at Donovan with warm eyes.
Musical evenings had long been a private entertainment of theirs.Not only was this deprivation yet one more pleasure soon to be denied them, but also a circumstance even worse for Geoffrey, who did not own a violin of his own.Donovan reminded himself not to let Geoffrey leave without carrying away the better of the two instruments.
They eased their large frames into the sole remaining seats and placed their supper orders moments before the musicians lifted their violins to their chins and launched into melody and harmony.
The traveling duo were perhaps not virtuosos, and their musical choices tended more to the vulgar than to Bach and Mozart, but the rousing music was uplifting and energetic, and in no time at all, the tavern patrons were stomping their feet along with the rhythm.
Scarcely an hour had passed when one of the customers called out, “We want a sailor’s song!”
Cries of assent echoed throughout the noisy tavern.The rhyming lyrics to sailors’ songs were notorious for being overly emotional and unapologetically bawdy.
Donovan and Geoffrey exchanged glances.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”Geoffrey asked, his eyes sparkling.
“I hope not,” Donovan said grimly.
“Oh, come on, you spoilsport.”Geoffrey leapt atop his wooden stool.“We’ll play the accompaniment, if our esteemed musicians will sing the words!”
