He would never for the life of him properly understand why some ladies became so popular and others remained wallflowers. The two girls he partnered were perfectly articulate and sufficiently graceful. He wondered momentarily why either of them were in London for their second season. Not that he particularly cared either way, he reminded himself. He had no intention of raising expectations in the hearts of any young ladies by asking such a question.
Finally, it was time to find Miss Holton and escort her to supper. Crispin hoped he would be able to seat her at a table for two and have an actual conversation with her in which neither of them grew angry. Luck was on his side. She followed him meekly enough as he filled both their plates and spied the perfect table off to the side of the room. She didn’t say anything, but her face said enough despite her apparent effort to remain impassive. He smiled at her, trying to keep the grin from his face.
“Thank you for agreeing to eat with me. I didn’t think you would after this afternoon.”
Colour rose in her cheeks. “You didn’t ask if I wanted to accompany you, my lord. You asked if I had a partner for supper. I couldn’t avoid an honest answer.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Is honesty important to you?” He tried to keep sarcasm from his tone, but he wasn’t perfectly successful. Her colour heightened.
“Of course it is, my lord, which is why I am so uncomfortable with people discussing my inheritance.”
Now Crispin was confused. “What do you mean? Isn’t it dishonesty that is wanting you to keep it a secret?”
“Not at all.”
Crispin stared across the table at the girl. She stopped picking at her food and looked back at him, straight in the eye. Despite her heightened colour, he could see no guile in her face. The chit was being honest with him.
“Could you explain yourself?”
The girl sighed. “I don’t mean to be rude to you, my lord, but I don’t have any obligation to explain myself to you. I could ask you to explain yourself about all sorts of things, but they are really none of my business, so I am restraining myself.”
Crispin chuckled. “And I ought to do the same, is that what you mean?”
She offered him a lopsided grin and a little shrug followed by a nod.
“Well, perhaps we can exchange information. What sorts of things would you wish me to explain?”
He was amused to watch her surprise. He had clearly caught her attention and surprised her with his offer. She bit her lip and searched his face. He felt his gut clench in response. She really was a pretty young woman, if one was at all interested in unmarried, young debutantes, which he most certainly was not, he reminded himself.
“There are any number of things, my lord, which are none of my business but which interest me. Why did you tell Lord Layton what we had divulged in confidence? And why are you so angry about that boy who is your ward? Really, why do you almost always appear to be angry?” She trailed off into a whisper as she asked her last question. Crispin supposed he must be looking particularly angry again, and he tried to paste a more pleasant aspect to his face. He doubted he was very successful as she continued to chew her lip worriedly.
Forcing his gaze away from her lips, he contemplated her questions. None of them would be easy to answer. And really, none of his answers would be appropriate for the ears of an innocent debutante. But he was now unreservedly curious about her inheritance and wish for secrecy. But giving voice to her questions, she had tacitly agreed to tell him if he satisfied her curiosity. Unfortunately, they were not the type of shallow questions he was hoping for.
He tried for a sterilized answer to her questions. “I don’t have an answer for why I spoke to Layton. I don’t even like the bounder. It just slipped out of my mouth, for which I am profoundly sorry.” She kept herself remarkably contained, not displaying much reaction to his words beyond a slight nod of her head, which he found mildly fascinating. He wouldn’t be able to explain why, but he quite liked the girl and was uncomfortable with the thought of being in her bad graces. He was relieved by her small nod and even more so when she appeared a trifle more comfortable and took a small bite of her food.
He felt heat rise into his cheeks as he swallowed and continued to answer her questions. “The answer to your second two questions stem from the same source. My wife.”
Now she betrayed a reaction as she blinked rapidly and almost choked on the bite she had been in the process of swallowing. “Your wife, my lord?” she repeated as a question before continuing. “I thought you were a bachelor.”
“I am, or rather a widower.” His answer was stark. “But my wife caused me a great deal of trouble. That boy was hers. Since he was born during our marriage, legally he is mine.”
She regarded him steadily with a slight frown between her brows. He enjoyed watching her think but was unprepared for the blaze of anger that crossed her features.
“I take it from your words that your wife was unfaithful to you.” She said the words in a matter of fact tone, but he could see from her heightened colour that she was uncomfortable, though she continued anyway. “But that can hardly be the child’s fault, can it my lord? Despite how despicable your dead wife might have been, she is still dead, and therefore has paid for her sins, would you not agree? And now you are compounding them for that poor child by effectively making him an orphan.”
She paused briefly. “You didn’t tell me his name. It feels terrible to keep saying boy or child.”
Crispin stared at her. “Christopher,” he nearly growled the word.
She carried on. “If you were going to denounce Christopher, would the time of his birth not have been the appropriate time? The fact that he is yours, as you say, means that you ought to be treating him in the manner that befits your heir, which he is legally. It seems to me as though you treat your cattle better than you are treating that little boy. In fact, since you have been at such pains to beg my forgiveness, you are treating me, a complete stranger, better than him.” She kept her voice low, and her face did not betray her intent to any observers, but her tone dripped with disdain. “No wonder you are an angry man. You are being very unnatural.”
Crispin felt hostility rise within him. “I rather think it is quite natural to be angry over my wife’s actions.”
“That may well be, but it is not that poor child’s fault.” She was implacable in her determination to find fault with him. She made to rise. He grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly preventing her escape.
“Not so fast, my girl. I told you what you wanted to know. You might think I’m a dastard, but you cannot leave just yet.”
She regarded him, her gaze steady and cold before a low chuckle escaped her. “Very well, my lord. You are correct in your assumption of my assessment of you, so I have no idea why you care to know, but I will answer your question.”
She paused, took a deep breath, looked around the crowded room then continued in a low tone. “I did not want you to tell anyone about my inheritance because by ton standards it is infinitesimal, as I already mentioned to you. In our village, about twenty years ago, dear Mr. Byram had accumulated a small fortune but had no heirs, so he left it to the town with clear instructions on how it was to be disbursed. Most of it was to go to the school for boys’ education, but some was set aside to provide a dowry of ten pounds to any girl who had lived in the village for seven years or more. I am to benefit from his bequest. So, you see, I am an heiress, but since it is ten pounds, it doesn’t count here. So, Lady Vigilia was not lying. But I certainly did not want anyone to know of it. In this context, ten pounds is worse than nothing.”
Crispin was struck to the core. He found her embarrassed puff of dismay to be adorable. Despite her momentary silence, apparently, she was not finished slicing into him with her gentle, resolute tone.
“So, you must now see, my lord, when you offered this afternoon to help me find a husband, why I said it was impossible because of what you said. Even if I wanted to find a mate in my two weeks he
re, I no longer can. Because the ton thinks I’m an heiress, it is now only the fortune hunters expressing interest. When the truth comes out, I will be seen as an imposter and will not be able to show my face.”
“I am profoundly sorry, my dear girl.”
She offered a shrug. “Do not trouble yourself. I did not come to Town with the intention of marrying, so you did not really rob me of anything. I will stick to my plan of having an entertaining two weeks with my dearest friend and then return to my simple life in the village. With my ten pounds, I will be able to find a hard-working husband and we can make a comfortable life for ourselves and my siblings. It is very simple and far different from what the ton might be familiar with, but it will fill my needs and is all that I ever expected from life. In fact, more than I expected. It wasn’t until five months ago that I found out that I qualified for the bequest, and I was despairing about what I could do to care for my brothers and sisters.”
The earl could only stare at her. He had never met such a reasonable young woman. The sensation of guilt rose to choke him. What could one say to the chit after what she had just revealed? His anger at her judgment over the boy was forgotten. She was obviously a better moral judge than he was. She was entitled to her opinion.
Chapter Eleven
"You must allow me to help you at least make your stay in Town memorable, if nothing else."
Crossley didn't trust the shrewd expression that fell over Georgia’s face, but he did not allow his gaze to waver.
"It could be said that you have already done that,” she said with a wry twist of her lips before she added, “You could take me driving in the Park again, I suppose, my lord."
"Of course, it would be my pleasure," he quickly said, surprised that her request would be so simple. He had spoken too soon.
"With the child, of course," she added with an evil twinkle in her eye. "I find I am sadly missing the company of children, and you are the only one I know that has one."
Crispin clenched his jaw. He wanted to growl at her but managed to keep his tone polite. "Perhaps you ought to volunteer some time at the foundling hospital if you are lonely for the company of small children."
Her gurgle of laughter caused his stomach to clench in an exceptionally different reaction than that over her words. She was a remarkably good-looking young woman, if you could ignore her managing ways. He shoved the ridiculous thought to the back of his mind when she again spoke.
With her amusement still dancing in her eyes, the chit shook her head. "Were you not looking for a way to assuage your guilt, my lord? This would be the ideal way, I should think – help me feel less lonely for the company of children and help that poor child to feel a little less neglected."
"He is far from neglected. I hire the very best of care for him."
She shrugged. "But he has no parents. How old were you when you lost your parents?"
He stared at her for a moment before answering stiffly. "I was twenty-one when my father died and twenty-five when I lost my mother."
"I'm sorry for your loss, my lord," she answered softly, obviously regretting her conversation choice but continuing valiantly. "Can you imagine if that had happened to you as a small child?" She paused for a moment, obviously hoping he would think about it. "I was thirteen when I lost my mother, and it was a terrible blow, but I know it was even worse for my brothers and sisters who were much younger. And we at least had each other." She paused again, taking a deep breath before launching into speech once again.
Crispin braced himself for what was to come; he could tell from her demeanour that she was about to launch an attack he would not enjoy.
"That boy may not be your son. You may be rightfully angry with his mother. But neither of those things are his fault. He is your responsibility, as you have freely admitted. You are not dispensing with your responsibility in an acceptable manner. Surely you realize that. He needs your time and attention. And it will make me feel ever so much better about being in London, my lord."
Despite his antipathy toward the boy and her words, the earl couldn't help laughing over her conclusion. The managing little baggage knew just what to say to prevent him from refusing.
With a sigh he finally said, "Very well. Shall I come to collect you at four or five tomorrow afternoon?"
She grinned. "Four might be best, my lord. We wouldn't want to overwhelm the boy with too many crowds." She paused before adding, her eyes twinkling, "Besides, if we find we are having a good time, that will afford us time to go to Gunther's for an ice before you return me home."
"Now you really are pushing it too far, my dear girl," he said, but there was little heat in his words. He accepted defeat gallantly. "Very well, the boy and I shall collect you at four."
"I shall look forward to it," she replied, polite but not necessarily truthful, although Crispin couldn't really tell. While she didn't appear to have warmed up to him too much, she seemed genuinely delighted by the thought of spending time with the child. Crispin almost laughed again. He never would have considered using the boy to appeal to women. Not that he wanted the attentions of any particular woman, he reminded himself wryly. He would have to keep reminding himself of that if he was going to be spending any amount of time with this particularly appealing young woman.
She rose to her feet and glanced around the room. "I fear I have monopolized your time, my lord."
Crispin was amused at her way of always turning the conversation in a self-deprecating way. He wondered what made her do that. If anyone overheard they would never know that he had to coerce her into spending time with him. It was one more thing he liked about her. He quickly got to his feet and offered his elbow to escort her back to the ballroom. He needn't chronicle all the things he liked about her. She was still a woman, even if she hadn't been guilty of the particular piece of deception he had thought. He gave his head a slight shake. He needed to get this woman out of his mind. He tried to keep his pace even. It would not do to be seen rushing her from the room.
The rest of the evening seemed to drag as he watched Miss Holton be handed from gentleman to lord. Georgia didn’t spend a single dance on the sidelines. Her wide smile demonstrated how delighted she was with the attention. But he was honest enough to acknowledge that she wasn’t simpering or flirting. The chit seemed to be an actual genuinely cheerful soul. From all appearances, her interest in each person she encountered was sincere. She was not flattering the men she danced with when she focused her intelligent gaze upon them as they spoke. But he could tell from their reactions that they were basking in her attention. That, combined with her supposed fortune, would ensure the girl multiple offers of marriage.
Several inappropriate expressions crossed his mind, and he had to clamp his jaw to prevent them from escaping his mouth. She was right. He had made it impossible for her to marry. No matter what she might say to the contrary, he couldn’t believe that wouldn’t have helped her situation. Despite the brave face she put on it, he couldn’t see how marrying a bumpkin from her village would be better for her and her siblings than marrying a member of the ton. On second thought, not every male member of the ton would be a step up from the country bumpkin, but surely financially speaking it would be better for her. He stifled a sigh and tore his gaze away from her. What she surely didn’t need was even more gossip about her! He dragged his focus away, not wanting anyone to notice his fixation.
To be on the safe side, he ought to ask some ladies to dance. He saw Vicky nearby and approached her.
“Might I have the privilege of dancing with you, my lady?”
Vicky’s giggle only grated on his nerves slightly. “I’m sorry, my lord. My dance card is full tonight.” She paused and looked around before continuing. “But my sister might be available, if you’re just looking for a partner.”
Crispin felt his eyebrows rising at her forwardness. She giggled at his expression.
“Was that inappropriate, my lord? I apologize, if I offended you.” She didn’t look particularly
contrite as she turned with a smile to the gentleman waiting to escort her to the dance floor.
With a shrug, Crispin turned and looked for whom else he could ask to dance. He had no intention of following Vicky’s suggestion. Hilaria was a chore to be around, and he had no desire to raise expectations with Lady Rosabel.
Eventually, much to his relief, he was able to make good his escape. He had danced with a couple young women whose names he could not recall and then took his leave of his hostess before making his way to his club. He was in dire need of a strong drink and the bracing company of other determined bachelors.
Georgia had tried to ignore her awareness of the earl as she danced through the rest of the ball, but she had felt a little deflated when he left the room. She refused to call the sensation jealousy when she had watched him dance with other girls. It would be unreasonable to be jealous, considering she had refused him herself. She made every effort to push him from her mind, but she wasn’t very successful. Even though she continued to dance after he had left, the evening had gone slightly flat. She had no explanation for the strange phenomenon.
“Did you see Lord Crossley ask me to dance?” Vicky asked when they finally climbed up to her room in the wee hours of the morning.
Georgia grinned. “I did,” she said with a giggle. “I also saw that you refused him.”
Vicky giggled along with her but explained, “I didn’t do it to be difficult. I really didn’t have any dances available.” She twirled around the room. “I knew having you here would be the best. I haven’t enjoyed a ball as much as this evening.”
Georgia couldn’t hide her surprise. “Truly, Vicky? While it was lovely, I didn’t see that it was so very spectacular.”
Vicky guffawed. “Just a couple days here in Town and you’re already as blasé as the rest of the debutantes.”
Inheriting Trouble: A Sweet Regency Romance (The Bequest Series Book 1) Page 9