Impetuous Innocent

by Stephanie Laurens

  He inclined his head politely in response to her curtsy and, still smiling, waved her to the wing-chair. Georgiana seated herself and settled her skirts, thankful she had this morning donned one of her more modish gowns, a grey kerseymere with a fine white linen fichu, edged with expensive Italian lace. Comfortable, she raised expectant eyes to his lordship’s dark-browed face.

  For a full minute, he seemed to be looking at her and thinking of something else. Then, abruptly, he cleared his throat.

  “How old are you, Miss Hartley?”

  Georgiana answered readily, assuming him to be considering what employment might best suit her years. “Eighteen, my lord.”

  Eighteen. Good. He was thirty-two. She was too young, thank God. It must just be his gentlemanly instincts that were driving him to help her. At thirty-two, one was surely beyond the stage of lusting after schoolroom chits. Dominic smiled his practised smile.

  “In light of your years, I think you’ll find it will take some time to discover a suitable position. Such opportunities don’t grow on trees, you know.” He kept his manner determinedly avuncular. “I’ve been thinking of what lady of my acquaintance would be most useful in helping you. My sister, Lady Winsmere, is often telling me she pines for distraction.” That, at least, was the truth. If he knew Bella, she would leap at the opportunity for untold distraction that he intended to offer her in the charming person of Miss Georgiana Hartley.

  Georgiana watched Lord Alton’s face intently. Thus far, his measured statements made perfect sense, but his patronising tone niggled. She was hardly a child.

  “I have written a letter to her,” Dominic continued, pausing to draw a folded parchment from his coat, “in which I’ve explained your predicament.” His lips involuntarily twitched as he imagined what Bella would make of his disclosures. “I suggest you take it and deliver it in person to Lady Winsmere in Green Street.” He smiled into Miss Hartley’s warmed honey eyes. “Bella, despite her occasional flights of fancy, is quite remarkably sane and will know precisely how you should go on. I’ve asked her to supervise you in your search for employment, for you will be sadly out of touch with the way things are done. You may place complete confidence in her judgement.”

  Relief swept over Georgiana. She rose and took the letter. Holding it carefully, she studied the strong black script boldly inscribed across the parchment. Her fingers moved across the thick, finely textured paper. She felt oddly reassured, as if a confidence placed had proved to be well founded. After her problems with Charles, the world seemed to be righting itself. “My lord, I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve been more help than I expected, certainly more than I deserve.” Her soft voice sounded so small in that elegant room. She raised her eyes to his, smiling in sincere gratitude.

  Unaccountably irritated, Dominic waved one fine hand dismissively. “It was nothing, I assure you. It’s entirely my pleasure to be able to help you. Now one more point.” He hurried on, strangely unwilling to bear more of Miss Hartley’s gratitude. “It seems to me that if Charles is out there scouting about he’ll be looking for your carriage, with your coachman atop. I’ve therefore given orders for you to be conveyed to London in one of my carriages, together with your maid. One of my coachmen will drive you and will return with the carriage. After a few days, when Charles has given up, your coachman will follow you with your coach. I trust such an arrangement is satisfactory?”

  Georgiana felt slightly stunned. He seemed to have thought of everything. Efficiently, smoothly, in just one short hour he had cleared the obstacles from her path and made all seem easy. “My lord, you overwhelm me. But surely—you might need your carriage?”

  “I assure you my carriage will be…better used conveying you to London than it otherwise would be,” Dominic responded suavely, only just managing to avoid a more subtly flattering selection of words. God! Dealing with an innocent was trying his wits. A long time had passed since he had engaged in social discourse with a virtuous young lady of only eighteen summers. It was too abominably easy to slip into the more sophisticated and seductive modes of conversation he used almost exclusively to females these days. Which, he ruefully reminded himself, was a definite reflection on the types of ladies whose company he currently kept.

  With another dazzling smile, Georgiana Hartley inclined her head in acceptance. At his intimation, she fell into step beside him, gliding towards the door on tiny, grey-slippered feet.

  Still bemused, and with the feeling that events were suddenly moving rather faster than she could cope with, Georgiana could nevertheless find no fault with his arrangements.

  Duckett met them in the hall with the information that the coach stood ready.

  Dominic could not resist offering her his arm. With gentlemanly courtesy he conducted her to the coach, pausing while she exchanged farewells with Ben, surprising everyone, Ben included, by breaking off her words to give him a quick hug. Then Dominic handed her into the luxuriously appointed coach, wherein her maid was already installed, and stood back. Duckett shut the door firmly. The coachman, Jiggs, gave the horses the office. The coach pulled smoothly away.

  Dominic Ridgeley stood on the steps of his manor house, his hands sunk in his pockets, and watched his coach roll out of sight. Then, when he could no longer see the swaying carriage roof, he turned to go inside, pausing to kick at a piece of gravel inadvertently, inexcusably resident on the steps. With a sigh and a pensive smile, as if some pleasant interlude had come to its inevitable conclusion, he went inside and shut the door.

  CHAPTER TWO

  NIGHT had descended by the time Lord Alton’s travelling carriage drew to a halt on the cobbles before the elegant town house of Lord and Lady Winsmere. Georgiana glanced up at the tiers of lamplit windows reaching high above the street. Beside her, Cruickshank sat silent, her lips set in a severe line. The groom swung down and trotted up the steps to jangle the doorbell before returning to help them to the pavement.

  A portly butler appeared. One glance at the groom’s livery was apparently enough to effect instant entrance for Georgiana and Cruickshank.

  Georgiana allowed the butler to remove her pelisse. Then she turned and, in a voice tinged with nervousness, said, “I wish to speak with Lady Winsmere, if you please. I have a letter of introduction from Lord Alton.”

  Despite the butler’s gracious bow and solemn face, Georgiana was instantly aware of his avid interest.

  “I will convey your letter to Lady Winsmere, miss. If you would care to wait in the drawing-room?”

  Shown into a reception-room of pleasing proportions, Georgiana stopped and blinked. The door shut behind her. Cruickshank had dutifully remained in the hall. Georgiana scanned the room, then, finding nothing of greater moment to consider, gave her attention to a careful appraisal of the white and gilt décor. The room was well stocked with furniture, and every available flat surface sprouted at least one ornament. The rule seemed to be that if it wasn’t white it had to be gilded. Not even the ornate cornices had escaped. The effect was overpowering. With a sigh and a shrug for English fashions, Georgiana chose a stiff-backed, spindle-legged chair, heavily gilded and upholstered in white damask, and gingerly sat down.

  Her gaze roamed the walls once more, but there was no Fragonard to provide distraction.

  She folded her hands in her lap and tried to subdue the uncomfortable feeling of encroaching upon those whom she had no right to call on. But Lord Alton had seemed unperturbed by her request for help. Maybe, despite her misgivings, there was nothing so very peculiar about her predicament. At least, not to an English mind. Determined to be optimstic, she endeavoured to compose herself to meet Lady Winsmere’s questions. Doubtless, she would have a good few. What was she making of her brother’s letter?

  Only then did Georgiana realise she had no idea in what light Lord Alton had presented her to his sister. The thick parchment had been fixed with a heavy lump of red wax, on which the seal of the Viscounts Alton had been imprinted. Georgiana frowned. A wave of tiredness r
ose up to envelop her. Not for the first time since leaving the comfort of Candlewick Hall, she wondered at the wisdom of her actions. She was too impulsive. Often she had landed herself in the suds by rushing headlong on her fate—witness her flight from Ravello. But it was too late to draw back now. She grimaced. The more she thought of it, the more clearly she perceived her inability to influence the course of events Lord Alton had charted for her. These, presumably, would determine her immediate future. Somehow she had placed herself in Lord Alton’s hands.

  Georgiana stifled a despondent sigh. She hoped she looked more confident than she felt.

  ON THE FLOOR ABOVE, Bella, Lady Winsmere, was in the middle of her toilette, preparatory to attending the theatre. A knock on the door of her boudoir was followed by a whispered conference between her dresser, Hills, and her butler, Johnson.

  Distracted from the delicate task of improving on nature, Bella frowned. “What is it, Hills?”

  Her black-garbed dresser produced a folded parchment, inscribed to herself in her brother’s unmistakable scrawl. Intrigued, Bella immediately laid down her haresfoot. Bits of red wax scattered in all directions as she broke open the seal.

  Five short minutes later, she was crossing her front hall in a froth of lacy peignoir, rendered barely respectable by a silk wrapper. Johnson, having anticipated her impetuous descent, stood ready to open the drawing-room door for her.

  As the door shut, bringing her guest to her feet, Bella’s bright blue eyes, very like her brother’s, surveyed her unexpected visitor.

  Unconsciously clutching her reticule, once again in a tell-tale grip, Georgiana beheld an enchanting vision, fashionably slender and no taller than she herself was. But there the resemblance ended. Lady Winsmere was dark-haired, her fine skin was alabaster-white. Her blue eyes Georgiana had seen before. And the elegance of her lacy gown made Georgiana feel awkward and abominably young.

  For her part, Bella saw a girl on the threshold of womanhood. Her innocence shone beacon-clear. She was all honey and cream, from the top of her curls, tinged with the sun’s kiss, to her delicately tinted complexion. Her golden eyes contained a quality of unusual candour. And she had no more inches than Bella herself. Bella’s face brightened. A little sigh escaped her. With a generous and genuine smile, she floated forward, both hands outstretched to capture Georgiana’s cold fingers in a warm clasp.

  “My dear! So you are Georgiana Hartley! Dominic has written me all about you. You poor dear! What a dreadful thing to happen, and you newly returned to England. You must let me help you.”

  At Georgiana’s murmured, “My lady,” Bella broke her stride. But when Georgiana attempted to curtsy, Bella held on tightly to her hands, preventing it.

  “No, no, my dear. You’re among friends here. You must call me Bella, and I hope you won’t think me terribly forward if I call you Georgiana.” She tilted her small head to one side, blue eyes twinkling.

  Georgiana found her engaging manners difficult to resist. “Why, of course not, my… Bella. But truly, I feel as if I’m imposing dreadfully upon you.”

  “Oh, pooh!” Bella pulled a face. “I’m always bored; there’s so little to do in London these days. I’m positively thrilled Dominic thought to send you to me! Why—” she paused, struck by a wayward thought “—just think. If you’d grown up at the Place, we would have been neighbours.” Bella waved Georgiana to the chaise and sank to the white damask beside her. “So, you see, there’s no need for you to feel at all bothered about staying with me.”

  Georgiana’s head reeled. “Oh! But I wouldn’t dream of imposing—”

  “Not at all! It’s the very thing. You have nowhere to go and we have plenty of room.” Bella gazed intently at Georgiana. “Truly, it’s no trouble at all.”

  “But—”

  Bella shook her head. “No buts. Just consider it as doing me a favour. We’ll have such fun. I’ll take you about and introduce you to all the right people.”

  Despite a sudden tug of impetuosity, urging acceptance of the exciting offer, Georgiana, grappling with the flow of Bella’s burgeoning plans, felt constrained to protest. “But my la… Bella. I don’t think Lord Alton can have properly explained. I need to find a post as a companion.”

  Recalling the specific instructions contained in her brother’s letter, Bella assured Georgiana that he had, indeed, explained fully. “But my dear, in order to find the right post for you, particularly considering your age, you must first become established in society.”

  Bella watched the frown gathering in Georgiana’s fine eyes. Before her guest could raise any further objection, she raised one slim, restraining hand. “Now before you start arguing—and I do so hate people who must forever be sniping and finding fault—I must tell you that you will be doing me the biggest favour imaginable in allowing me to help you. You can have no idea how boring it is to pass the Season with no real purpose. The Little Season is coming up in a few weeks. I implore you to relieve my frustrations and stay with me and allow me to present you. Surely that’s not too much to ask?” Bella’s big blue eyes pleaded eloquently.

  Bemused by the sudden twist the situation seemed to have taken, with Lady Winsmere now begging the favour of her company, and feeling too drained by the day’s events to fight a fate so apparently desirable, Georgiana found herself weakly acquiescing. “If it’s really not too much trouble… Just until I can find a position.”

  “Splendid!” Bella grinned in delight. “Now the first thing we must do is get you settled in a bedchamber. A hot bath is just what you need. Always so soothing after travelling.”

  With a magic wave of one small bejewelled hand, Bella took charge. In short order, Georgiana, her luggage, Cruickshank, dinner on a tray and a large tub together with steaming hot water to fill it had been conveyed to the best guest chamber on the floor above.

  An hour later, after she had closed the door of Georgiana’s room behind her, having seen her young guest settled in bed, Bella Winsmere’s face took on a pensive frown. Slowly she descended the stairs, so deep in thought that she was halfway across the hall towards the front door before she recalled her intended destination. Swinging about, she turned her steps towards the library at the back of the house.

  At the sound of the door opening, Lord Winsmere looked up from the pile of documents he was working on. His lean face lit with a smile of great warmth. He laid aside his pen to reach out a welcoming arm to his wife.

  With a quick smile, Bella went to him, returning his embrace and dropping a quick kiss on his greying hair.

  “I thought you were bound for Drury Lane tonight?” Lord Winsmere was more than twenty years older than his beautiful wife. His staid, sometimes regal demeanour contrasted sharply with her effervescent charm. Many had wondered why, from among her myraid suitors, Bella Ridgeley had chosen to bestow her dainty hand on a man almost old enough to be her father. But over the years society had been forced to accept the fact that the beautiful Bella was sincerely and most earnestly in love with her eminently respectable lord.

  “I was, but we have an unexpected guest.”

  “Oh?”

  His lordship pushed his papers aside, consigning them to the morrow. If his Bella had sought him out, then she had some problem to discuss. He rose and, Bella’s hand still in his, led her to the two armchairs stationed before the fireplace.

  Bella sat, chewing the tip of one rosy finger, a habit when thinking profoundly.

  Smiling, Lord Winsmere seated himself opposite her and waited for her to begin.

  “It’s really most intriguing.”

  Inured to his spouse’s methods of explanation, Lord Winsmere made no response.

  Eventually Bella gathered her wandering mind and embarked on her story. “Dominic’s sent a girl to stay.”

  At that, Lord Winsmere’s brows rose sharply. But the knowledge that, despite his apparent lack of moral concern, Dominic Ridgeley had never permitted the slightest breath of scandal to touch his sister’s fair name held him silent.<
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  “She’s a would-have-been-neighbour. Her name’s Georgiana Hartley. Her father was a painter, one James Hartley. He died in Italy some months ago and Georgiana was left to her uncle’s care. Most unfortunately, her uncle, who lived at the Place—you know, it’s that funny estate that was made by selling off a piece of Candlewick—well, he died too. Just before her father, only she didn’t know that, being in Italy. The long and the short of it is, Georgiana travelled all the way from Italy, only to find her uncle dead and her cousin Charles in charge. It only needs to add that Charles is an out-and-out bounder and you have the picture.” Bella spread her hands and glanced at her husband.

  “How did Dominic come to be involved?”

  “It seems Georgiana was forced to flee the Place at dawn this morning. She doesn’t know anyone—no one at all. She asked at the Three Bells, thinking to find a sympathetic lady in residence at a neighbouring estate. Of course, the Tadlows sent her to Candlewick. You know how all our people are about Dominic.”

  Lord Winsmere nodded sagely, a thin smile hovering about his lips at the thought of the godlike status his far from godly brother-in-law enjoyed on his own lands.

  “Well, she went to the Hall and met Duckett. And then Dominic came and persuaded her to tell him all.” Bella suddenly broke off. “Oh—are you imagining she must be some encroaching mushroom?” Her ladyship leant forward slightly and fixed her big eyes on her husband. “Truly, Arthur, it is not so. She’s the most engaging little thing. So innocent and green and so…so trusting.”

  Lord Winsmere’s fine brows rose slightly.

  Abruptly Bella dropped to her knees, draping her silk-clad arms over her husband’s knees. She smiled, impish and seductive all at once. “Please, Arthur. Please say she may stay. You know how bored I am. She’s perfectly presentable, I give you my word. I could take her about and present her to the ton… Oh—I’d have such fun! The balls and parties are so tame, if one’s not part of the game. Please, my love. Say she may stay.”