“I had the dubious pleasure of making the acquaintance of Lord Layton,” she stated, still not making eye contact with him and making every effort to not draw attention to her anger. But the effort was making her feel as though her hair were going to melt.
“Ah, I see.” The earl took a deep breath. “Might I have a few minutes of your time over supper to stammer out my apology?”
“If you think to earn your way back into my good graces by being cute, you can think again, my lord, as I am not nearly that fickle.” Her anger was certainly not diminishing, as she saw amusement in his face. “Laughing at me isn’t going to help very much either,” she added, her dry tone adding to the laughter in his eyes.
Vicky, though, was not finding the situation amusing. She pinched Georgia’s arm, making her jump and stifle a squeak. “We would be delighted to dine with you this evening, my lord, thank you so much for your kind invitation,” she said, overriding Georgia’s outrage and offering the earl a sweet, if fake, smile.
The pain in her arm where Vicky’s sharp fingers had surely left a dent brought Georgia to her senses. She could not give an earl the cut direct, nor insult him by refusing him in such a way. She swallowed the sour taste of impotent rage and offered him an insincere smile of her own. Georgia refused to lie and could not say it would be a pleasure. So, she kept her mouth shut. She knew she was flushed and wished she had a fan to cool her red face. Why would he want to spend any time with us anyway, she wondered, as she exerted an effort not to cross her arms and stamp her foot. She knew she would regret it later if she made a scene now, but part of her wanted to kick the man in the shins and walk away.
Taking another quick peek at him, she saw that his amusement had not faded so she averted her eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. It didn’t help all that much except that making the effort amused her. It reminded her of how many times she had to count to ten not to lose her temper with her siblings, and thinking of them helped her regain control over her roiling emotions. It crossed her mind to wonder why she had been less angry with Drew when he cut off Marianne’s braids than she was with the earl at this moment. Perhaps she had higher expectations of adults. But she really didn’t expect very much from a member of the ton. Her anger was excessive. She should not be disappointed in him. It is not as though they had a relationship that was now marred by his breach of her trust.
Georgia took another deep breath. She was being insufferable. Just because the earl was being a cad didn’t mean she needed to stoop to his level. She lifted her chin, braced her shoulders, and looked him in the eye without flinching. She would have sworn she saw admiration in his gaze but that was unlikely. It was much more likely that she was losing her mind, she thought with a wry twist of her lips.
“I wonder what our hostess is serving,” she mused in a steady, calm voice, but heard a snort coming from the direction of the earl. She did not turn to verify her assumption, merely continued to walk between him and Vicky in the direction of the supper room.
Georgia barely took note of what was on her plate. It required every ounce of her concentration to maintain the veneer of politeness needed to smile and nod in all the correct places as Vicky did her valiant best to conduct a conversation with the earl. Georgia felt Lord Crossley’s puzzled gaze resting on her from time to time, but she managed to avoid making eye contact. It was all she could do to swallow the no doubt delectable food that only tasted of sawdust in her mouth. Finally, she couldn’t put another bite into her mouth. She placed her cutlery on her plate, and an attentive footman quickly stepped forward to take it away.
“Now that you’ve been fed, would you be so kind as to tell me what exactly happened with Lord Layton to give you a disgust of me?” Crossley asked, his deep voice sending a thrill through her, despite her anger with him.
Incredulous, Georgia stared at him as though he were an imbecile, which she seriously thought he might be. How does the man manage to maintain his fortune and his position in Society if he is so dull-witted?
“You told him I’m an heiress,” she finally managed to spit out without yelling.
“Did you not tell me yourself that you are an heiress?” he countered, although Georgia noticed that he was beginning to look contrite.
“We also asked you to keep it a secret.”
Now the earl was beginning to look shamefaced. “I didn’t mean to tell him. It just slipped out. And when I tried to take it back, he became very sly with me as though I was trying to get one over on him.” There was a moment of silence while the three exchanged glances. “Is it really so bad if people know you’re an heiress?”
Finally, Georgia couldn’t take it anymore and she burst into laughter. “The problem is, my lord, that I am not really an heiress. I am a well-born girl of no means. In our town, there is a bequest for all the impoverished girls to receive a small dowry. A potentially life-changing inheritance for me. Not so much for a member of the ton.”
“But will it really matter if people think you are an heiress?” He clearly didn’t understand.
Georgia sighed. “From a certain perspective, probably not. In the grand scheme of things, I am just a girl from the country here to enjoy the city for a few days with my friend. But it has the potential to court controversy that could make my short visit uncomfortable and embarrass my hosts.”
“I do offer you my sincerest apologize, my dear Miss Holton. I truly wish I could take my words back, but there doesn’t appear to be much that can be done about it.”
“You are quite correct, there is nothing that can be done at this point. I shall do my best not to hold a grudge.” She offered him a wan smile. After glancing at Vicky to see that she had nothing more to add and was ready to leave, Georgia got to her feet. “No doubt, we will see you again sometime.” She dipped into a more respectful curtsy than her last one and departed from him without a backwards glance.
“You were magnificent, Georgie,” Vicky commented. “I could barely credit it when you nearly gave him the cut direct. I hope you aren’t furious with me for forcing you to spend the supper with him. I just couldn’t bear it if we caused a scene.”
“Of course not, my dear friend. You were perfectly correct. It would not have done to make a public spectacle of ourselves. Thank you for forcing me to come to my senses. Hopefully it was all a tempest in a teacup for nothing and Lord Layton will keep his thoughts to himself and it will all turn out to be a nonissue.” The two girls exchanged a glance. “That’s not too likely, is it?” She sighed. “Ah well. I have had worse things said about me than that I’m an heiress. Let’s not allow it to trouble us further. We shall deal with matters as they arise.” After bracing her shoulders, she put her arm through Vicky’s. “Now, come along. I overheard a gentleman say someone is singing in the library. I would like to see that for myself.”
With that, the two girls resolved to enjoy the rest of their night.
Chapter Eight
“You seem terribly pensive this evening, Crossley. What is ailing you, my friend?”
The earl barely acknowledged the duke’s words, keeping his eyes focused on the amber liquid in the glass in front of him, but he did allow the corner of his mouth to tip up in some semblance of a crooked smile.
Wexford wasn’t going to leave it there. He snapped his fingers in front of his friend’s face. “Hello, Crossley, hello. What is the matter with you tonight? You are nowhere near as amusing as usual. Do you not know that is why we keep you around? You are no longer holding up your end of the bargain.”
This finally had the desired effect. Crispin shook off his pensive mood. Laughter danced in his eyes as he finally focused his gaze on the duke’s face.
“I am not the amusing one, your grace, and well you know it.”
“Ah, perhaps I was mistaken,” the duke agreed with a grin. “Now tell me, what is troubling you?”
“Naught is troubling me, Duke. I have no idea what you are talking about.” Crispin tried to evade his friend’s questions
.
“Do not think you can gammon me. You have not said more than three words since you got here. And don’t bother trying to tell me that you’re tired because I don’t think the clock has even struck midnight. The debutantes are probably still dancing vigorously. You cannot be tired.”
Crispin again offered the duke a lopsided smile. This time he added a shrug for good measure. “I must just not have much to say this evening.”
“Is it Christopher? Is there something wrong with the boy?”
This wasn’t the best topic to question. The smile was swiftly wiped from the earl’s face to be replaced with another scowl. “As far as I know, the boy is right as rain.” Crossley countered a glare from the duke. “Do not get all ducal with me, your grace. I’ve known you since you were still in leading strings and had no thought to being the heir. You might be able to glare others into submission, but you’ll catch cold trying that with me.”
The duke’s glare melted into a soft smile. “Well then, if we have truly been friends for that long then you surely shouldn’t be keeping anything from me. Now tell me. What has you in the doldrums? It must be a woman. I haven’t seen you like this before, but the only time it has come close it is always a woman.”
Crispin tossed back the last of the liquid in his glass. “I swear to you, Wexford, I am perfectly fine.” He paused briefly and tried to hold up under the expectant stare of his childhood friend. Finally, with a soft sigh and a stifled epithet he nodded. “If you must know, I do have something on my mind.” Again, the duke said nothing, only raising his eyebrows even further in inquiry. The earl’s sigh was louder this time. “I broke my word today.”
The duke blinked in surprise. He had never known the earl to ever break his word. It was a matter of honour to most gentlemen, but Crossley was particularly particular about keeping his word.
“That is surprising.” The duke paused. “Did you have a good reason for doing so?”
“Not really.”
The silence stretched while the duke waited him out. He refilled each of their glasses from the decanter that the waiter had left conveniently by his elbow. The earl took a healthy draft. It must have finally loosened his tongue.
“It was that imbecile Layton that made me do it.”
The duke again used his eyebrow to good effect.
Crispin felt the colour rising in his cheeks. “I know, any man of sense should not be put out by an imbecile such as Layton, but he happened to be standing by me when the Shertons and their friend arrived. I do not know what Layton thought he saw on my face, but he began to speak about Miss Holton in such a way that I felt the need to punch his face. Instead, without thought, I said something about the young woman that it was not my place to say. Now she is furious with me. Rightly so, of course, but I do not know how to make amends. I have never found myself in this strange position before.”
The earl would have laughed if he were not in such a disturbed mood. Wexford’s jaw appeared to have become unhinged for a moment before he regained his usual equanimity and his eyebrow returned to its elevated position. And then he chuckled. “I knew it had to be about a woman.” His tone bordered on gleeful.
Crispin stared at the duke, incredulous. “Out of everything I said, that’s what you have picked up on?”
The duke shrugged. “You didn’t actually say all that much. I am shocked that you allowed Layton to get the better of you, and it goaded you into doing something so uncharacteristic as to break your word. But I am delighted that it involves a woman. If you could be goaded into doing anything because of a woman it gives me hope for you, Cross. You need to find joy in your life.”
Crispin’s stare had begun to morph into a glare, but the duke’s last words surprised a chuckle out of him. “You are beginning to sound like my mother, Duke.”
“I shan’t take that as an insult — your mother was a lovely woman.”
“But she was a woman. You are not. You ought not to be saying such things as observing that I need joy in my life. It sounds quite unmanly.”
The duke’s chuckle accompanied his shrug. “I am man enough to say such a thing. And it is true. You have lived in a dark cloud for too many years.”
Both men took another healthy sip from their glasses.
“Now tell me, just how angry is the young woman? Perhaps I can help you figure out how to get back into her good graces.”
“I didn’t say I want to be in her good graces,” Crispin growled.
“You were plenty melancholy about it. I would say you do,” the duke pointed out reasonably.
“I was feeling melancholy, as you say, because I dishonoured myself as a gentleman by breaking my word. I really couldn’t care less about Miss Holton’s feelings.”
“That doesn’t sound terribly honourable to me, Cross,” Wexford observed, although he seemed to be having trouble keeping a grin off his face. “A gentleman should always have a care for a lady’s feelings.”
Cris felt the heat rising in his cheeks once more. Part of him wanted to cross his arms, stamp his foot, and mutter that Miss Holton hadn’t had a care for his feelings. Instead, he had to agree with the duke. He had not acted the gentleman that evening. He would have to make amends.
“What do you suggest I do?” he finally asked, his tone weary and resigned.
Cris did not like the glee shining in his friend’s gaze, but there was nothing to be done. He trusted the duke not to reveal his humiliation, although he was sure to tease him about it in the future.
“You must send flowers. Since, if I remember correctly, last night would have been the young woman’s first ton event, she will no doubt be on the receiving end of a number of such gifts, but you must not allow that to deter you. Nothing gets you back into a lady’s good graces as quickly as a bouquet of flowers. If you could somehow ascertain her favourite flowers, that would be all the better.”
The earl rolled his eyes. “This is all rather foolish, Wexford. It is not as though I wish to court the girl.”
“Perhaps not, but you do wish to court her good opinion, do you not?”
Crispin thought that was still saying it a little too strong, but he grudgingly nodded.
“Excellent!” The duke rubbed his hands together, making the earl feel that he was getting far too much enjoyment over his predicament. “Now, tell me exactly what the chit said.”
Crispin sighed once more but then conceded. “You would have enjoyed witnessing the exchange, to be sure. I would have thought her magnificent if all that rage was not directed at me. She wanted so badly to rip up at me, but Lady Vigilia prevented her from causing a scene. It would have been spectacular to watch her explode, but it was quite fascinating to watch her simmer as well.”
The duke was watching him as though fascinated, much to Crispin’s disgust. “Stop it, Wexford, I am definitely NOT in the market for a new countess, so you needn’t look at me as though you know something. I am NOT falling for a debutante.”
The duke shrugged. “If you say so, Crossley.” He didn’t sound convinced, but he moved on. “So, what you’re saying is that you need to redeem yourself for your failure to be a gentleman with this lady, am I right?”
“That sums it up fairly well.”
Nodding, the duke sank into thought, staring into his glass for a silent moment. “You need to help her with her quest.”
“Now you’re starting to sound like a medieval tale,” Crispin scoffed.
The duke grinned but warmed to his subject. With a roll of his eyes he pressed on. “What does the chit want? Why is she here? To find a husband like all the other young women, no doubt,” he answered his own question. “If you don’t want her for yourself, you must ensure she finds a suitable husband to take care of her future.”
Crispin could see the sense in the duke’s words, but his stomach turned at the thought of it. “You think I ought to condemn some other man to be leg-shackled, in order to redeem myself? That hardly sounds gentlemanly.”
“Most men do
not consider matrimony to be the death sentence you think it,” the duke replied drily. “Besides, did you not say the chit had merits?”
“She wasn’t so bad as debutantes go,” was as high as his praises would rise. “Have you any idea how to go about arranging a match for the girl?”
The duke shrugged. “How hard can it be? Mothers manage it every Season. Surely, we can figure it out.”
Now the earl began to regain his sense of humour and chuckled. He thought the duke’s reasoning might be faulty but agreed that it surely couldn’t be that difficult.
“First thing you need to do is spend a little time with the girl and find out what she needs most from a match.”
“Won’t spending time with her give her false hopes for a match with me?”
“Did you not just tell me the girl has taken you in disgust?”
“That might not last too long.” Crispin did not lack for ego. “But if it does, then she’s not likely to agree to spend time with me.”
“Lady Sherton is not going to allow her to refuse you, Crossley,” the duke reminded him, beginning to become impatient. “Just be sure to tell the chit you are merely trying to make amends, not set up a flirtation.”
“Somehow, I don’t know if that will put me any further into her good graces, but I will take it under advisement. I see the merit in your plan. I do feel the need for redemption as I have never had such a lapse before.”
The duke was finished with the topic, at least for the time being. “Very well, Crossley. Keep me apprised of your progress. I must be off. And you look as though you could use some rest,” he observed with a sarcastic chuckle.
Crispin watched the duke walk from the room. He admired the other man’s ability to control himself and others. It must be something to do with being a duke. While Crispin would love to be able to imitate the control the duke had, he wouldn’t want the responsibility that accompanied the power. He had enough to do with his own earldom. And now he had Miss Holton on his conscience.
Inheriting Trouble: A Sweet Regency Romance (The Bequest Series Book 1) Page 6