Sebastian stammered, “Lord Caxton himself told me they had an arrangement. That Miss Darcy had agreed to his courtship. And Miss Darcy confirmed it.”
Did she? Or did you assume it? He frowned, shaking his head against the abrupt onslaught of conflicting viewpoints and emotions.
Lady Warrow waved her hand dismissively. “Well, I have heard nothing other than that the baron continues to pursue while Miss Darcy evades. Interpret that how you wish. Oh, we have arrived! Hand me my fan, will you, dear boy?” Sebastian automatically did as requested, the marchioness using the device to hide her satisfied smirk.
They entered the glittering reception hall of the de Valday townhouse, Lady Warrow regal and stunning even in her seniority. She clasped her grandson’s arm lightly, always thrilled to be the center of attention and at the side of an attractive man years younger than her, even if he was kin.
Sebastian stood tall and elegant, wearing garments of the finest cut and weave, the black ensemble with maroon waistcoat a striking contrast to his fair skin and light-golden hair. He had pulled himself together, superior breeding and decades of training proving to be an asset against the throbbing in his heart and clash of thoughts swirling through his brain.
His eyes scanned the crowds searching for the only face he truly wanted to see, yet he was frozen in nervousness as to how he would react when he saw her. How will she react to me? Fortunate for his nerves, he had little time to dwell on the idea, as he was speedily surrounded by dozens of friends sincerely delighted to see him. Bare minutes passed before his native charm and gregarious personality managed to supplant the anxiety. Quickly caught up in the merriment of lighthearted conversation and music, his eyes continued to dart amid the press of bodies and shifting gaps for the particular figure and graceful carriage that he would recognize instantly.
Easily a half hour passed, as he surrendered to the joy of laughter, discovering the atmosphere a welcome balm to the turbulence within. Freedom from the aching yearning to see Georgiana—Where was she?—and the fear of pain to be caused if she arrived on Lord Caxton’s arm was not attained, but for the present he was somewhat calm.
He stood near the massive staircase that led to the upper level, one hand resting casually upon the ornately carved wooden railing, chatting with a group of students from the Conservatoire when everything changed.
Sebastian would never know what captured his attention and caused him to look left, upward to the gallery above. His fanciful nature would forever say his soul felt her presence, but whatever the reality, he glanced upward and instantly lightning struck deep into the marrow of his bones.
All he could do was stare.
Georgiana wore a gown of three shades of blue, falling in gossamer layers of silk over a lacy petticoat. The cinched, wide sash of gold-threaded cobalt rested just under her full bosom and fell in a cascade over her bottom to the floor. A diaphanous strip of palest blue loosely surrounded her slender neck and edged her décolletage, providing some modesty while accenting the feminine flesh encased inside the bodice. The blazing light highlighted the sheen in her abundant hair, each tress artfully arranged with the circlet of gold and blue stones the perfecting accent. Her pale skin was slightly flushed, her blue eyes glossy, and her plump lips curved into a soft smile.
For Sebastian, the room faded and the hum disappeared. For that moment, in that instant, everything melted away. All of the doubt, the pain, and the unknowing vanished. It was only Georgiana and how utterly he loved her. He did not even try to prevent the radiance of his emotions from diffusing over his face.
The minutes leading up to her entrance, Georgiana had not struggled with emotion but with a body determined to fail her. Alone in her room with both windows open and a cool breeze flooding the air to revitalize her feverish mind, she had perked up a bit and deluded herself into believing she was well enough. Then she entered the hall, it already warm from an abundance of lights and people, and the restorative quality vanished.
Traversing the passageway took an eternity, the balcony railing a blessing of solidity under her hand. She scanned the moving crowd below as she slowly walked toward the stairs leading to the foyer that was awash with human bodies, and spied Mr. Butler mere seconds before he lifted his gaze to her.
She paused to observe him where he stood tall and handsome, relaxed and smiling at the bottom of the steps. Peace washed through her as she studied his attractive profile, the squared line of his jaw, the broad expanse of his shoulders under the dark suit, and the long fingers lying atop the balustrade. Love in its purest form speared her, and for a moment the clouds and haziness of pain vanished.
I have no choice. I only want him.
Then he turned and those gorgeous eyes of stormy-gray alit upon her face. His countenance broke into a spontaneous display of unfettered joy and unleashed brilliance. He loves me! It was written transparently upon his face and in the eyes that caressed her. The knowledge of returned affection both weakened her muscles and lent her the necessary strength to quicken her pace. Her decision had been reached in those heartbeats before he looked upon her, but knowing that he loved her only made it sweeter.
With her gaze locked with his, she crossed the short span to the stairs, beginning her descent gracefully but with an accelerated tempo. The hunger to hear his voice and feel his soft touch spurred her on and kept the tendrils of weariness and pain at bay.
Sebastian watched her countenance transform into the vision of the Georgiana in his dreams, a Georgiana who was his wife and who loved him. His heart leapt, performing a musical crescendo in his sudden joy at the expression spreading over her dainty features. The flair of happiness shining from her eyes electrified every nerve and he could not breathe, but it was precious agony.
Eyes never leaving the glory of her face, he shifted his weight to head toward her when abruptly the magical revelation was ripped apart.
The baron strode into the scene, marching directly in front of Sebastian. The baron’s brawny body invaded the minuscule space between Sebastian and the staircase riser, forcing him to step hastily backward and break eye contact with Georgiana.
Everything thereafter occurred in rapid succession.
Georgiana’s step faltered with the unexpected severing of the invisible chord that had anchored her to Sebastian. Her focus shifted to Lord Caxton, mainly due to his body blocking the view of the other, and the brilliant smile still lighting her face was directed at him.
Sebastian recovered his balance, stepped to the right, and looked past the baron to see Georgiana’s radiant smile and shining eyes fixed upon the older man. It was never you, fool! His jaw clenched in anger, pain assaulted him with the power of a physical blow, and he turned his stiffened body away from witnessing the lovers’ greeting.
Lord Caxton ascended the stairs, Georgiana’s smile fading at the hardness to his dark eyes and harsh set of his face. She backed up a step and leaned onto the railing, glancing away from his cold smile just in time to witness a furious Sebastian pivot away.
Sadness enveloped her as a wet blanket. Every ache and pain resurged through her head and muscles with renewed force. She shivered and gasped, clutching onto the banister as the room began to spin wildly. The epiphany reached just seconds previous was as absolute as ever, but coherent thought suddenly became mixed with fantasy as the wispy edges of shadow intruded.
She looked back to the baron, who was now only four steps below her. The urge to speak the truth and shout her feelings aloud raged within, the hoarsely croaked plea bursting through her lips.
“Please, Lord Caxton, I need you…”
But the remainder to that sentence, the declaration that she needed him to understand that her love was firmly fixed elsewhere, was left temporarily unspoken. Instead, her knees buckled as a wave of furious heat struck her flesh, unconsciousness wrapped around her, and she tumbled forward into the arms of Lord Caxton.
***
Please, Lord Caxton, I need you… Lord Caxton, I need you… I n
eed you… I need you…
The words rang over and over inside Sebastian’s head, causing him physical pain, and the terrifying vision of a senseless Georgiana lying in the baron’s arms would never be erased.
Chaos ensued. A physician was called for as Georgiana was whisked off to an upper room. Sebastian stood stunned at the bottom of the staircase watching the woman he loved being carried away by another man. Word rapidly spread to the gathering mass of friends and family, many of them forgoing the party to collect in the library and wait for word.
Sebastian paced, the vigorous movement necessary to bear the agony slicing through him. The ball recommenced and, although dimmed in its merry fervor, the strains of music reached the hushed room. Sebastian found no solace in the refrains from the orchestra. Rather it wore on his nerves. So he paced.
“Sebastian, dear, please sit down! You are giving me a headache and wearing a hole in the carpet will not speed up the doctor’s appearance.”
He strode to the dark window, released a huge sigh, clasped his hands behind his back, and fruitlessly willed the frantic worry and ache to ease. He ignored his grandmother’s sympathetic gaze resting upon him, her concern indicative of his distraught appearance no matter how hard he tried to hold himself together.
The door opened, every eye swinging to the portal in hope and dread, but it was only a servant relating word from Lord Matlock that Miss Darcy was currently being examined by the physician and that she was unconscious and burning with a fever.
The waiting recommenced. As did Sebastian’s pacing. Why has Caxton not returned? Sebastian knew it was a bit childish, but the thought of Lord Caxton standing vigil near the stricken woman while he was relegated to the lower chambers was infuriating. Jealousy was one more emotion to add to what ate up his insides.
Eventually, Lord Matlock arrived to update the worried guests, accompanied by a clearly disturbed Lord Caxton.
“The doctor diagnosed her ailment as influenza and is currently working to reduce the fever,” Lord Matlock said. “She has rallied briefly but is confused and extremely weak. An apothecary has been sent for as well with prescriptions ordered. For now, however, we can only pray. I suggest, as difficult as it may be, that we rejoin the ball and present a face of confidence and ease. Miss Darcy would not wish for her friends to fret over her and not enjoy the entertainment.”
“But your lordship! How can we dance and be gay when dearest Georgiana is abed and in dire straights?”
“Out of respect for her sensibilities and her selfless desire to please others, Mademoiselle de Valday. She will applaud your bravery when she recovers. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to see if anything else is needed upstairs, and then I too shall rejoin our guests.”
Silence fell after the thud of the door behind Lord Matlock, but it did not last for long.
“My lord, what is your opinion? How did she appear to you?”
Lord Caxton answered with a growl, “I was banished to the passageway moments after laying Miss Darcy upon the bed. Then the earl insisted I come downstairs with him. I know only what you have been told by Lord Matlock.”
He muttered a curse under his breath, whirled about, and stomped out of the room and onto the terrace. Sebastian watched him disappear into the shadows beyond the window and then followed. He was not sure what he wanted but some impulse prompted him.
The baron was leaning against the wall with his hands over his face. Sebastian did not hear crying, but the man’s whole body shook. He hesitated, even began to take a step backward when Caxton dropped his hands and turned an anguished glare upon him.
“Come to gloat have you?”
“No,” Sebastian began, truly surprised at the question.
“No? I would if the situation were reversed. I should be up there, damn it all! I should be sitting beside her, holding the cool cloth to her head, whispering of my love and lending strength. I would be if not for these bloody rules and ridiculous notions of propriety that keep me out of her room simply because we are not formally engaged as yet!”
“Yet?”
“That’s right, Butler! Yet!” He yelled it, pushing off from the wall with force and stalking toward Sebastian, who held his ground and returned the glare. “I told you how it is between Miss Darcy and me. Formalities may stand in our way, but nothing else does!”
“You are that certain, are you?”
Lord Caxton paused. The two men stared at each other defiantly, measuring and evaluating as conclusions were drawn. Caxton broke the tension first, his voice calmer if still as forceful.
“I know you care for her, Butler. I am not a fool or blind. I can empathize with how you are feeling, since I know how wretched I would be if she did not return my affection. I truly am sorry for that, but you must accept what is.”
“And if I cannot accept what is?” Sebastian choked.
“You must. Your persistence and presence benefits neither of you. Miss Darcy is pained to see her friend’s unhappiness and I cannot fathom how tormenting it must be to see us together.”
He stepped closer to the rigid Sebastian, laid one hand on his shoulder, and said, “For what it is worth coming from me, do not torture yourself needlessly. Take comfort, if you can, in knowing she is loved, deeply, and let it go. My advice? Stay away from what can only cause you pain.”
Caxton squeezed his shoulder and re-entered the library, leaving Sebastian in the dark and cold of the night. Yet the external was nothing compared to the black and ice inside his heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Two Requiems
By the next afternoon, Georgiana’s fever had broke. Word of this reached her many friends, all of them tremendously relieved. Sebastian received the report from Lady Warrow, nodded once, and went back to writing the letter he had been working on when she knocked at his door. His relief at the news was immense, but it changed nothing. His plans remained the same and the next several days were going to be focused on carrying them out.
For Georgiana, those days following her collapse were tumultuous. Youth and stamina were in her favor. Rest, copious fluids, healing herbal teas, and bolstering foods were efficacious. The constant nursing by a gaggle of concerned de Valdays aided in her recovery.
Lingering fatigue and persistent dizziness plagued her for days, but worse were her muddled memories. With each passing day, as her head cleared, she realized how disorderly and foggy she had been for nearly the whole week prior. Had Mr. Butler looked at her with ardent love? Was he standing there at all? And where was he now? Why has he not visited or sent word?
Fretting over these questions, striving to reconcile fever-induced illusions with facts exhausted her. However, real or imagined, her feelings regarding the two men in her life were crystalline. Mr. Butler’s absence, while painful and worrisome, was beyond her control at the moment. Furthermore, it changed nothing in regards to the wholehearted, irrevocable love she bore him. Nor did it change her decision.
“Are you certain you are up to this? You can barely sit up without the room spinning!” Mrs. Annesley frowned as she arranged the quilt about her companion’s legs, assuring complete modesty as well as warmth.
“No, I am not certain. But I do not think it shall be any easier a week from now.” Georgiana sighed, rubbing her aching temples. “The poor man has been haunting the downstairs rooms for the last two days. I cannot bear causing him further distress.”
“He is not exactly going to be leaping for joy after you speak with him.”
Georgiana groaned, hiding her face within her palms. “What else can I do, Amanda?”
Mrs. Annesley sat beside, pulling her into a warm embrace. “Forgive my irritability. My insensitivity is unpardonable, even if it does arise out of recent frightful events and my concern over you aggravating your recovery. Of course this is not easy for you, and you are very brave to confront the matter boldly.”
“I am positive bravery has nothing to do with it as I am terrified. I have tried to rehearse the words,
but even if my wits were not addled, I do not deem there is an easy way to tell a man who loves you that you do not feel the same.”
The door opened before Mrs. Annesley could reply, admitting Lady Matlock. She crossed to her niece, laying the back of her hand clinically against her forehead.
“If your fever was returned, I would forbid this interview. Are you sure you are up to this, Georgiana? I can speak to him for you.”
Georgiana smiled wanly and shook her head. “Thank you, Aunt, but this is something I must handle myself.”
Lady Matlock frowned, clearly not convinced. “Are you still resolved to speak to him privately? I should stay just in case—”
“I will not humiliate him additionally by having an audience,” Georgiana interrupted softly, continuing in a subdued, pleading tone, “but, please, stay close, both of you. I am not ashamed to confess that I will need comforting.”
“Of course,” they agreed simultaneously, Lady Matlock continuing, “I will fetch him then, if you are ready?”
Georgiana used the intervening minutes to murmur a prayer for strength and wisdom. Her hands shook and she clutched the fringed edges of her dressing gown’s tie tightly to still them. Inhaling deeply in a vain effort to settle her stomach, she gazed around the familiar environs of her bedchamber. The comfortable chaise, crackling fire, and casual atmosphere lent a peace she desperately needed.
The knock on the door caused her to jerk even though she expected it. Surprisingly, her voice was steady when she granted him entrance, but her heart constricted to see the sincere, relieved smile that blazed over his handsome features.
“Miss Darcy!” Lord Caxton rushed across the room, kneeling onto one knee beside her and clasping a hand. “I have been frantic! Reports only placated partially. I needed to see you for myself and daresay you appear quite well and breathtakingly beautiful.”
Miss Darcy Falls in Love Page 22