by Josie Bonham
“This is where we’re stopping for the night. It looks busy. I’m glad I had the forethought to ask Charles to book rooms for us.”
He jumped down and lifted her to the ground.
“Thank you. This is where Mr Breakwell is staying, isn’t it? Will he come here tonight?”
“That was the original plan but his uncle is so ill I don’t expect to see him.”
He guided Georgie through the press of people and carriages. There was more than one curious stare sent in their direction. He kept his head down and avoided eye contact with anyone. The last thing he wanted was to have to chat to acquaintances with things so uncomfortable between him and Georgie.
Jepson was waiting for them inside the hallway and led them straight upstairs. He opened a door for Georgie and Max could see her maid waiting for her. His room was next door. It was the best room in the inn but his heart sank when he saw the truckle bed in the attached dressing room. He glanced around at Jepson.
“I’m afraid there’s a prize fight on tomorrow, my lord. The landlord insisted Mr Breakwell had only bespoken these two rooms.”
Max looked at Jepson’s sceptical expression. “You don’t believe him but don’t see what we can do about it. I fear you are correct, Jepson.” He grimaced. “This is not the sort of situation I like my wife being put in.”
“Quite so, my lord, I’ve persuaded the landlord to provide dinner for her ladyship and her maid in their room.”
“Thank you, Jepson. That’s the best we can do. I hope we all manage to get some sleep tonight.”
“We’re above the kitchens here so we won’t hear the worst of the noise and the inn has thick walls.” Jepson moved over to the bed to finish laying out clean clothes.
Max walked to the window and looked out. Jepson was right; they were in the quietest part of the inn. He wanted to thump the windowsill. Georgie seemed a little less forbidding today but there would be no opportunity to talk here.
He stalked across to the door. “I’m going down to stretch my legs, Jepson. They’re far too long to be cooped up in a coach for hours. I plan to buy more horses soon. Lady Hargreaves doesn’t ride but she does drive. I’m going to have a phaeton made for her and look for a quiet pair of carriage horses.”
He ran lightly down the stairs. Why had he given Jepson so much information? It was almost as if he was seeking approval by boasting of his intended present for Georgie. It was certainly uncomfortable when his servants were finding it difficult to meet his eyes at times. Could someone who had won them over so completely be a schemer? He knew Porchester quite well and set off down a quiet route to gain some solitude. Hopefully the cold air would serve to dampen the ardour he had been struggling with for hours. There would be no way he could share her bed with her maid in the dressing room nearby. Despite a brisk pace the cold seeped through his clothes and he retraced his steps.
Jepson had laid out a plain outfit for him. He changed quickly and went down to take his dinner in the coffee room. The benches were of different sizes and he found a low slung one in a quiet corner, so his height wasn’t too obvious. He kept his back to the room, hoping no one would recognise him. His strategy worked so well he was jerked out of his thoughts by hearing his name mentioned.
“That’s a rum do with old Hargreaves. I was told he ravished a young woman waiting to be picked up by friends for Christmas. It was at the Golden Cross, near to Hargreaves Hall.”
“You haven’t heard the best of it. It turned out the girl had connections to the Archbishop of Canterbury, no less. The blighter was forced to marry her. Always thought there was bad blood there after the way he jilted the Fellowes chit.”
“Did he really? Who’s the girl he’s married?”
“Some nonentity from a church family.”
There was a commotion and another man pushed his way into the group discussing him. Max risked a look and groaned inwardly as he recognised an acquaintance.
“Now that’s enough of that nonsense. I know Lord Hargreaves and he’s a decent sort.”
At least he had one defender. He couldn’t bear to hear anymore. He drank the last of his ale and negotiated his way around the edges of the room, keeping to the shadows. He needed to warn Jepson to try and hide their identity. There was a set of back stairs near to the coffee room. He ran up them and managed to navigate his way to his room. He quickly explained the situation to Jepson.
“I’ve already thought of that, my lord. I’ve told the drivers and grooms not to use your name. Mrs Powell was a thoroughly unpleasant person. I expected her to make trouble.” He gave Max an accusing look. “I never understood why you let Lady Lovell foist her onto you in the first place.”
“What had Mrs Powell got to do with Lady Lovell? Mrs James recommended her.”
“Mrs Powell worked for Lady Lovell, who was supposed to have dismissed her on a whim of her son’s.” Jepson sniffed. “Which I didn’t believe for a minute. Sent to spy on you I’ll be bound. Lady Lovell only took Mrs Powell on in the first place to find out more about your family.”
Max felt lightheaded and flopped down on the bed. “Why on earth did Cook recommend her to me then?”
“I expect she felt sorry for her. Mrs Powell and Mrs James started work as maids at Hargreaves Hall at the same time. We all assumed you agreed to annoy Master Cuthbert.”
Max threw a punch at the mattress and wrenched his shoulder. Charles had been called to his uncle’s sick bed and he had been so pleased to find a replacement housekeeper he hadn’t even bothered to read Mrs Powell’s reference.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
“It never occurred to me that you didn’t know, my lord.”
Max lowered his head into his hands. If he was on his own he would have cried like a baby. It wasn’t guilt that had made Georgie so subdued and distant. She must be furious with him for doubting her. Why had he been such a fool to think all women were untrustworthy like Lavinia? He would love to go back downstairs and drink himself insensible.
The risk of being recognised was too great. His priority had to be shielding Georgie as much as he could. With Jepson’s quick thinking they might get away in the morning without her finding out what was being said. The man was a treasure. This was worse than anything he could have imagined. There was enough truth in it for it to be dangerous.
Even Augusta was going to find it hard to help him extricate them from this mess. Jepson was almost certainly correct in thinking Mrs Powell had been stirring things up. He groaned as he remembered Georgie saying it would be safer to become established as a couple in London before they dismissed the woman. She had got her measure. How could he have been so stupid? He longed for another walk but he couldn’t rule out running into someone who knew him.
He sent Jepson down for a decanter of brandy. As soon as Jepson was gone he threw off his coat and punched the bed with both fists a few times. That did little to relieve his feelings. He jumped up and strode around the room feeling like a caged tiger. He ought to at least give Georgie some inkling of the problem and warn her to stay hidden but he couldn’t face her. He didn’t know how he was going to face her tomorrow. Jepson came back with a decanter barely a quarter full. He went to remonstrate but looked at Jepson’s wooden countenance and thought better of it. It would have to do.
“Could you get a message to Lady Hargreaves asking her to stay hidden until we leave tomorrow Jepson?”
“I’ve already impressed that on her maid, my lord. I used the excuse of the probability of hordes of drunken men roaming around. Martha’s a good girl. I’m sure they’ll stay put until they hear from us.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Georgie picked at her supper. The meat pie and vegetables were overcooked but reasonably edible. She ought to eat as much as she could to keep her strength up. The closer they got to London the more nervous she felt. She could only hope things would improve between her and Max before she had to face the formidable Augusta. Even Sally and Eliza sounded in
awe of her. Was Max thawing towards her? He had seemed a little less forbidding in the coach yesterday.
She was still furious with him but they couldn’t go on like this. She would find it difficult at any rate now she had tasted the delights of the marriage bed. He could always take a mistress in London, if he didn’t already have one. The only way she could see her life being fulfilling would be having children and if she couldn’t tempt him into her bed that wasn’t going to happen. She sighed; the arrangements here made it impossible for him to visit her tonight, even if he wanted to.
By the time she climbed into the carriage the following morning Georgie felt thoroughly jaded. She had lain awake for much of the night and her nerves were on edge. Max would either accept her or he wouldn’t. She had done nothing wrong and it was up to him to heal the breach. If Augusta took against her perhaps she would urge Max to divorce her.
It should be possible in a rich and powerful family like theirs. In many ways that would be easier than loving him and suffering the daily pain of his rejection. Away from him she would eventually heal. Max landed on the seat beside her and the coach pulled away. She closed her eyes and hoped for sleep to speed up the journey. The coach lurched and curses rained down from the driver’s box. She opened her eyes to see Max with his head out of the window. He came away from the window abruptly.
“It’s merely the press of traffic holding us up. I believe there’s a prize fight in the area today. If Charles hadn’t been so pre-occupied, he would have realised and booked us rooms in another town.”
“Martha said there was a prize fight.” Georgie shuddered. “Nasty things.”
Max laughed and her spirits lifted. “I enjoy a bout with Gentleman Jackson when I’m in London. There’s a great deal of science to it. I agree with you about prize fights though. It would be better if they were stopped before someone was seriously hurt. Often they’re not.”
The coach picked up speed and they left Porchester behind. Georgie dropped into a genuine sleep and woke up at their first stop. Max seemed to have withdrawn into himself and she was relieved when they set off on the last leg of the journey. They pulled up in front of an imposing mansion midway through the afternoon. Max stayed long enough to introduce her to Mrs Mills, who seemed genuinely delighted to meet her, before he disappeared.
Georgie turned to the housekeeper and pinned a smile to her face. She would concentrate on making a good impression on the staff and try not to imagine that Max was rushing off to visit a mistress.
“I’ll have warm water sent up to your room for you to freshen up, my lady. Ring the bell when you’re ready and I’ll fetch you down to meet the staff. Would you like a tea tray to be sent up too?”
Georgie gave her a genuine smile. “That sounds wonderful, Mrs Mills. I shall look forward to meeting the staff.”
She followed a maid up the stairs. Apart from Mrs Powell, the staff at Hargreaves Hall had been lovely to her and she was curious to meet the London ones. Martha followed behind and the tea tray appeared almost immediately. The tray carried small cakes and a flagon of lemonade besides the tea.
“I think you deserve to share this Martha. Tea or lemonade?”
Martha’s face glowed and her eyes shone. “Lemonade please. One of the footmen said it’s good working here, my lady. I like the housekeeper. She’s a lot better than Mrs Powell, the witch.”
“You shouldn’t refer to anyone like that, Martha.”
“I don’t see why not. She hated you and she’s in league with that Lady Lovell.”
Georgie forgot all her scruples about encouraging servants to gossip. “Do you mean the mother of Cuthbert Lovell?”
“Yes. Mrs Powell used to work for her you know.” Martha scowled.
Georgie stared at Martha. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Ask Mr Jepson if you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s still working for Lady Lovell.”
The hot water arrived before Georgie could reply. If it was true it might help to explain Mrs Powell’s attitude. Martha pulled out the peach coloured gown for her to change into. It wasn’t a day gown but it would have to do. She made her own way downstairs as soon as she was ready. An elderly butler jumped to attention.
“Let me show you into the drawing room, Lady Hargreaves. I’ll send Mrs Mills to you.”
Georgie sat down, heart beating furiously. She must get on with this housekeeper. Mrs Mills entered almost straight away. Georgie immediately forgot her own worries when she noticed her careworn appearance.
“There’s no need to stand on ceremony, Mrs Mills. Would it be easier for me to meet everyone in the servant’s quarters?”
Mrs Mills hesitated and then smiled. “Yes, it would. We’re rather shorthanded to open up the house.”
Georgie followed her down to the housekeeper’s room. Servants were scurrying about and the ones in the kitchens looked frantic. Mrs Mills lined them all up and Georgie went along the line exchanging a quick word with each one. Martha was right. Despite how busy they all were they seemed a lot happier than the servants at Hargreaves Hall.
“If you would show me back up to the drawing room, Mrs Mills, I’ll let you all get on with your work.”
Georgie came to a decision when they reached the hallway. Max would have to accept her role in making domestic decisions and she needed to start now.
“I don’t want you all being overworked. We won’t need a grand dinner this evening. I can see you’re stretched. I would be grateful for your help in employing what extra servants are necessary.”
“Bless you, my lady. Mr Jepson said you were kind. I could send straight around to the agency we use and have some candidates to interview fairly quickly. We can manage a proper dinner on your first evening here.”
Georgie noticed the butler trying to catch Mrs Mills’ attention. He coughed loudly. The door to the drawing room opened. A middle-aged lady, a vision in apricot satin, stepped out. Her features were softer than Max’s but Georgie would have recognised her as his sister even in a crowd.
“There’s no need to worry about providing dinner this evening, Mrs Mills, Lord and Lady Hargreaves will be dining with me.”
Mrs Mills dropped into a curtsey. “Thank you, Your Grace. Will you be requiring tea, my lady?”
Georgie quaked. This must be Augusta, Duchess of Cathlay. She forced a smile and dropped into a deep curtsey. “Tea would be excellent and some more of your cakes please, Mrs Mills, if you have any left. Would you care to join me in the drawing room, Your Grace?”
Augusta inclined her head and went into the drawing room. Georgie studied her exquisite gown as she followed in her wake. The Lovell sisters certainly knew how to dress.
Augusta walked in to the centre of the room. She turned and gave her a half smile. “We meet at last, Lady Hargreaves. As I’m sure you’ve realised, I’m Augusta.”
“I’m Georgina but everyone calls me Georgie. Do please take a seat, Your Grace.”
“Thank you. We don’t stand on ceremony in this family, everyone calls me Augusta.” She sat on a sofa near to the window and indicated the space next to her.
Georgie joined her. A knot of tension twisted her insides, so much rested on this meeting. If Augusta didn’t believe her story then Max never would. Augusta’s expression seemed determinedly neutral.
“I’ve heard several versions of your meeting with my brother. I’d like you to tell me what really happened.”
Georgie gave her an outline of her escape from the Huttons and how Max had rescued her from the barn. She couldn’t bring herself to mention her encounter with Max at the Golden Cross.
“Why did you agree to my brother’s outrageous proposal? Were you afraid of a possible scandal?”
Georgie jumped, although the question was spoken in a gentle voice. This was plain speaking. She met Augusta’s gaze, which was fixed firmly on her.
“No, it wasn’t that.”
“What then?” Augusta’s voice was sharper this time. Her expression w
as neutral but her gaze was fixed firmly on Georgie’s face.
Georgie squared her shoulders. Why had she agreed? Heat surged to her cheeks as she remembered the fiery response Max had induced in her, both in the inn and when he had carried her back to Hargreaves Hall. The strength of him had wrapped itself around her frozen self like a blanket. She glanced up to see Augusta staring at her. She would have to tell her as much of the whole as she could bear if she was to be believed.
“It’s hard to explain. He asked me when I was still recovering from my ordeal. If I’d been fully recovered, I don’t think I would have let him talk me into it.”
“He’s handsome, charming, wealthy and a Marquess to boot. Do you expect me to believe that you would need talking into a marriage with him?”
“No, I suppose not, because I don’t understand it all myself.” She thought for a moment. “I knew it would be cold in those barns but I couldn’t see well enough in the snow to be sure of finding the vicarage and my strength was fading. My legs were frozen by the morning when Max found me and I couldn’t walk. He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder as if I weighed no more than young Peter. I wanted that strength. I’d lost everyone who was dear to me and the world had become a frightening place.”
“So why would you want to refuse him?” Her voice was calm but she looked wary.
Georgie closed her eyes for a moment before she ploughed on. “I was too drained to make that sort of decision. If I’d been fully restored, I would have resisted the temptation to seek safety in his arms. I was brought up in a family who held strong views on the importance of love in a marriage.” A spurt of anger ran through her at Augusta’s sceptical expression. “We didn’t even know one another, although I suppose in families like yours arranged marriages happen all the time.”
Augusta studied her, her haughty expression proclaiming her every inch a duchess. Georgie tensed, ready to defend herself, until Augusta broke into a smile.
“I’m glad to see you have some spirit. That may have been true in previous generations but not now. This brings me to the question that really matters. Are you physically attracted to my scapegrace brother?”