by Anne Herries
Georgie blushed as she saw the mockery in Richard’s eyes. ‘You may well look like that,’ she said, pulling a face. ‘I dare say word of my good fortune has got around and all the fortune hunters will queue up to know me.’
‘Georgie! They are not all fortune hunters,’ Jenny reproved her, eyes twinkling. ‘Mr Davenport has a fortune that surpasses your own, even though you will have nearly two hundred thousand when it is all done. And the Duke of Marling’s heir was very taken with you at the Assembly Rooms last night. He asked a great deal of questions of me, you know.’
‘As much as two hundred thousand?’ Richard arched his brow. ‘I think you are right, Georgie. You will have a string of admirers. You must take care that you are not alone with any of them or you will find yourself compromised.’
Georgie gave him an odd stare. ‘I should not consider that reason enough for marriage, sir—as I believe I told you once before.’
Richard laughed softly. ‘Touché! I think the honours are yours there, Georgie. Since you have so many gentlemen asking for your favours, may I dare to hope you will allow me to take you driving one day?’
‘You may take me this afternoon if you wish,’ Georgie said and smiled at him. ‘We have a free afternoon, though we are engaged for a private dance this evening.’
‘Indeed? Then I shall call for you at two-thirty precisely,’ Richard said. ‘And now I must leave you since I have an appointment—but I promise not to be late.’
‘You had better keep your promise,’ Jenny warned. ‘If you do not, we shall be very cross with you, shall we not, Georgie?’
‘If Richard fails to keep his word, I dare say he will have good reason,’ she replied, raising her eyes to meet his. ‘I shall look forward to seeing you later, sir.’
‘Thank you,’ Richard replied. ‘Before I leave I must give you some unhappy news. It may distress you, but you should know that your Uncle Mowbray killed himself after his bank foreclosed on his debts—and your aunt went to live with friends when the house was closed.’
‘Oh…’ Georgie was stunned for a moment. ‘That is terrible news indeed. I know they treated me ill, but I believe it was the fault of Monsieur Thierry. My uncle was led into things he did not properly understand.’
‘As to that, a man must always know when his play is too deep,’ Richard said. ‘However, Thierry does know how to draw men in and how to entrap them. I think you uncle was not his first victim. Still, your uncle did things that would have led to his being arrested for theft and worse. He took his life rather than face disgrace.’
‘Well, I am sorry for him and my aunt—her mostly, I think,’ Georgie said. ‘I know that neither of them deserve my sympathy, but I shall ask my lawyers if something may be done to help her.’
‘That is your decision,’ Richard said. ‘But be careful she does not take advantage.’
‘Oh, no, she will not,’ Georgie said. ‘I have good advisers, you know. Besides, I am not foolish enough to do more than I wish, which is a small pension a year to keep her from poverty.’
Richard nodded. ‘You are a generous young woman. Some fortunate gentleman will be lucky to secure you. I shall see you later.’
Georgie followed him with her eyes as he left the room, feeling a little pricking behind them. However, she fought off any feelings of self-pity. She was young, not unattractive and wealthy beyond her dreams. It was ridiculous to feel as if her world were empty.
‘Well, I think that was very satisfactory,’ Jenny said as her husband followed Richard from the room. ‘Richard is an odd creature, you know, dearest, but I am convinced he is in love with you.’
‘What makes you think that?’ Georgie’s heart leaped insensibly, because she knew his intentions did not include marriage.
‘Because I know Richard, and I have never seen him look at another woman the way he looks at you,’ Jenny replied. ‘He may not realise that he has met his match yet, dearest—but believe me, he will.’
‘I do love him,’ Georgie said, the words coming out in a rush. ‘Promise me you won’t tell him, because I do not think he means to ask me to marry him—but I cannot help myself.’
‘Oh, I have known that from the beginning,’ Jenny told her. ‘I am perfectly sure of Richard’s affections for you, my love—it is just that the foolish man does not know what is good for him! It may be because of our childhood, you know. After my mother died I went to live with your Aunt Mary, but poor Richard was often alone. He was very close with our cousin at one time, but Justin died—I am not sure of the details, but I believe it was tragic.’
‘Justin? He was your cousin?’
‘Yes, why do you ask? Has my brother mentioned him?’
‘Oh, no,’ Georgie said, because she would not betray Richard’s secrets. ‘Do you really think he likes me?’
‘I am positive it is much more—but the ridiculous man may need to be told before he realises it is true!’
Georgie laughed, because it was impossible not to when faced with Jenny’s optimism. ‘Perhaps we shall have to teach him?’ she suggested and saw that her companion was laughing too.
Her spirits lifted once more. Richard was here in Bath for the time being and he had promised to take her driving that afternoon. She would not flirt with him or throw herself at his head, for that was not her way—but perhaps if she showed herself amenable he might speak.
Chapter Seven
Richard was on time and waiting for her when Georgie came down promptly at two of the clock that afternoon. She was wearing a dark green silk carriage gown with a matching pelisse, her bonnet of chip straw trimmed with crimson cherries and green ribbons. Her half-boots were of soft kid, her gloves York tan, proclaiming to the world that she was a young lady of fashion.
Richard smiled inwardly as he saw her. She was beautiful, his sister was entirely right on that score, but he could not quite quash the memory of an urchin with dirt on her face. She had made an attractive picture once she was clean, and the sight of her neat, rounded buttocks in youth’s breeches had had a powerful effect on him. At the moment her quality made him very aware that she was both beautiful and wealthy, much admired by a great many gentlemen. Georgie the urchin would have thrown propriety to the winds and followed him to the ends of the earth, but this young lady of fashion was an unknown quantity. Would she accept him if he proposed to her—and did he have the right?
He pushed the uneasy thoughts to the back of his mind. He did not wish to dwell on the darkness in his past for the moment. It was to be an afternoon of pleasure for them both. Time to think of more serious things when his work was finally finished.
‘Green is your colour,’ Richard said as he handed her up to his high-perch phaeton. His tiger released the reins to him and sprang up at the back. ‘I am glad that you decided against going into blacks, Georgie. I am perfectly certain that your great-aunt would not have wished for it.’
‘She made it a stipulation in her will,’ Georgie told him. ‘I am not allowed to wear mourning for her. She always hated the custom and said in her letter that she wanted me to enjoy my life and I was not to grieve for her since her only regret was that she had not done more for me sooner.’
‘That was kind of her and shows thought on her part,’ Richard said. His concentration was on his horses as he steered them through the press of traffic in the fashionable Crescent. ‘It shows the quality of the lady and it is a great pity that you were prevented from knowing her better.’
‘Yes, I cannot forgive my uncle for that,’ Georgie said with a frown. ‘It was far more unkind than selling my mother’s jewels, though I wish he had not done that either.’
‘In that small matter I have been of some service to you,’ Richard told her with a smile. They had passed through the busier streets and were passing the Abbey, soon to be leaving the town for country roads. ‘I could not locate some of the items, the diamonds having disappeared without trace—possibly broken up so that they could not be found—but I managed to retrieve some p
earls, an opal-and-diamond brooch, a sapphire pendant, a set of rubies and pearls and a gold bangle set with rubies. I shall give them to you tomorrow when I dine with you at the house.’
‘Oh, you are not leaving at once, then?’ Georgie’s cheeks flushed as she realised that she had focused on what was more important to her. ‘I meant—thank you very much for your kindness in tracing my mother’s things. You must give an account of any money you paid out for me and my lawyer will settle it.’
‘I hope you will allow me to bear the small cost,’ Richard told her. ‘I have not forgotten that you assisted so ably when my life hung in the balance. I would count it kind in you to allow me this favour.’
‘You know that it was Henderson who did it all,’ Georgie told him, ‘and I am already in your debt for bringing me to your sister—but if you truly wish it, I shall accept your generosity. You must tell me if I may do anything for you in return, sir.’
‘You might call me Richard,’ he told her, a little smile on his lips. ‘I believe it would not go amiss—at least within the family.’
‘Yes, of course—if you return the compliment. When you address me as Miss Bridges I know you are cross with me.’
‘No, never,’ he said, glancing at her. ‘It is a mere politeness—besides, I was not sure if you were angry with me after the way that I behaved before I left Yorkshire.’
‘Angry?’ Georgie thought for a moment. ‘I was a little hurt at first, but then I thought that you were not truly a cruel man. If you felt unable to offer me marriage, it must be for a good reason. Richard…’ She turned her eyes on him, seeing a little pulse flick in his cheek. ‘I would not wish you to think yourself obliged to offer because of what happened, but—’ She broke off abruptly, because she had gone as far as she could without betraying herself.
Richard brought the horses to a standstill. They had reached one of the beauty spots that people came for miles to see, and he took her hand, helping her down from the curricle as his tiger sprang from the back and took the reins.
‘Shall we walk to the top of the rise?’ he asked. ‘The countryside is accounted very fine in this area and the weather is mild for walking.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said. She took his arm. The grass was firm and dry beneath their feet as they walked to the brow of a small hill. They stood in silence for a moment, enjoying the vista of gentle slopes, water trickling over rocks into pools, sparkling in the sunshine. In the distance, the smudge of a wood dark on the horizon. ‘It is very beautiful here, Richard. Thank you for bringing me.’
‘You are beautiful,’ he told her softly. ‘If I do not ask you to be my wife, it is because I have my reasons, Georgie. I am not an evil man and would not have you think it, but there are things in my past—things that shame me. I had put all thought of personal happiness behind me.’
‘I do not think you could have done anything that would make you unworthy,’ Georgie said passionately, her eyes filled with fire as she gazed up at him.
‘I have killed men,’ he said. ‘I do not say murder, but when necessary—and not just in battle. There have been times when I had to shoot to save the life of another or my own.’
Georgie shivered, because although at the back of her mind she had known his work must sometimes entail this kind of thing, to hear it spoken openly was still shocking.
‘I dare say you had no choice…’
‘None at all,’ he replied. ‘But that is not the worst of it, Georgie. Because of me, a blunder on my part…nine of my men were killed needlessly.’
‘But that must have been in war?’ She gazed up at him, reading the horror the memory occasioned in his eyes. ‘Surely you cannot be held to blame for that?’
‘I was not blamed,’ he said. ‘I was given orders and I followed them, but I was young, inexperienced and should have taken more heed instead of leading them blindly into a trap. I have tried to atone for that mistake, but it has lain heavily on my conscience all these years.’
‘It could have happened to anyone, Richard.’ She read the agony it had caused him over the years and knew that he was still haunted. ‘Surely the officer in charge overall was more to blame?’
‘Perhaps, but it was I who led the men that day, and though I managed to bring five of them back alive, nine died. I learned a hard lesson that day, Georgie. It changed me. I was but twenty, eager for the glory I imagined was to be found on the battlefield. I found death and pain and blood that day. I learned to be more cautious, to care for my men at all times and protect them, but the needless loss has haunted me.’
‘Is that why you continued to work for the government even after Bonaparte was contained?’
‘Yes. I was asked if I would undertake secret work and it is for that work that I have killed,’ Richard said. ‘And then I lost someone who meant a great deal to me. He had fallen in with evil men and I felt I had failed him by not being there to save him from his own folly. He died in pain in my arms. I buried myself in work, and I was ruthless, careless of my own life. For a long time I cared for nothing else, but that changed when an urchin with dirt on her face tried to steal from me and later helped to save my life. You made me realise that there might be more to life, Georgie. There have been times when I have come close to proposing to you.’
‘Oh…’ Her heart took a great leap. ‘But if you care for me, why…?’ She stopped, casting down her eyes as she waited for him to speak.
‘Why do I not ask if you will marry me?’ He reached out, tipping her chin with his hand. ‘Because it would not be fair to you, my very dear Georgie. I must go after Thierry and stop him. We know that he plans to move against the Regent soon. He can’t be allowed to. And after that there will still be a war. I must rejoin my regiment. We have a job to do, Georgie, and until Bonaparte is stopped for good I must play my part.’
‘Edward has told Jenny that he means to fight too,’ Georgie said. ‘She accepts that he must do his duty. I would not try to stand between you and your duty. If you care for me…’
‘You must know that I do,’ he told her and smiled. ‘I think that if I felt able to marry it would be you I would ask to be my wife, but for the moment I cannot marry. It would be unfair, because I may be killed at any time. You are young and beautiful and I do not wish you to become a widow before you have been a wife.’
‘Surely that should be my decision?’ Georgie asked, staring up at him. She knew that he must be able to see her desperation. Surely now he would take her into his arms and tell her that he loved her?
‘I know you to be as brave as you are lovely,’ Richard said. ‘I care for you, but I cannot marry you, Georgie. I ask you to forgive me if I have raised hopes that I cannot fulfil.’
Georgie turned away. She had hoped when he suggested this drive that he intended to ask her to be his wife. Indeed, she had almost thrown herself at him and yet still he refused to speak. It must mean that he did not love her in the way she loved him.
‘You have done nothing so very terrible,’ Georgie said, turning back. ‘I thought that you were attracted to me, but I see that I was wrong.’ Tears trembled on her lashes.
‘Forgive me,’ he said, his voice harsh with the emotion he was fighting. ‘You are very beautiful and I have been tempted. Seeing you in that youth’s clothing…it was too provocative! Yes, I have wanted to make love to you—what man wouldn’t? But I do not wish to marry.’
Georgie stared at him. ‘I see…you make yourself plain, sir. I have been very stupid. When you said that you cared for me I thought…but I was mistaken. I apologise if I have embarrassed you. I think we should return to your sister now.’
Richard hesitated as she turned away again. He was tempted to go after her, take her into his arms and tell her that he was a heartless wretch for hurting her so. She had been so very brave and he knew that she would willingly risk being a widow just for the joy of being his wife, but he could not let down that last barrier. He was afraid of loving her too much. He knew that all his excuses counted fo
r nothing in the face of Georgie’s love, and he was saddened to hurt her so—but better now than in the years to come. Thinking of her alone, wearing black for a husband she hardly knew, was heartbreaking.
Richard knew only too well the pain of losing someone he loved and he did not wish to feel that pain again or to inflict it on Georgie. Better she should believe he was a heartless wretch and find someone new—and yet he did not wish to lose her entirely.
‘Wait for me,’ he said, as she set off down the hill, her back very straight, her head turned from him. ‘Please do not hate me, Georgie. I should always wish to be your friend.’
‘Of course you will always be my friend,’ she said and turned to him. Her face was frozen, her eyes cold and distant. ‘How could I not be after all you have done for me? It was foolish of me to imagine there was anything more than friendship between us.’
‘Georgie…’ Richard’s heart wrenched because he did not know this new Georgie. She was so distant, so reserved, and he knew that it was his fault. ‘Forgive me…’
‘There is nothing to forgive,’ she said. They had reached his curricle and he gave her his hand to help her up. She took it, but did not look at him.
Richard knew that she was both hurt and angry. He wanted to take back all that he had said, but to do that would be pointless. He could not ask her to marry him and therefore he must accept this new coolness. Perhaps in time she would forgive him and they could become friends again, but he was very much afraid that he had lost her trust. For the moment all he could do was take her to his sister and hope that time would heal the hurt he had inflicted.
Thierry watched as his enemy drove away from the house in the Crescent later that day. He had been following the little bitch’s triumph from a distance since she arrived in Bath. People were gossiping about her, because she had a large fortune—money that should rightfully have been his! Her beauty might have brought her admirers had she been in possession only of a small competence, but with the wealth left her by the countess she had become an heiress of considerable importance.