That had been before the shock of this afternoon had opened her eyes. Lord Ellsmere was all any young lady could desire. He was handsome, considerate, worldly and charming. And rich and titled… The list went on. But he was very definitely not the man she desired. When his lordship had taken her in his arms, she had been deep in a daydream in which she was walking with Bella’s brother. The disappointment she had felt on realising that it was not Lord Alton kissing her had been acute.
She could no longer delude herself. What she felt for Viscount Alton was what her mother had felt for her father. She had seen them together often enough, laughing happily in a world of their own, to have an innate sense of the emotion. Love. That was what it was, plain and simple.
How had it happened?
Ridiculous it might be. Impossible it might be. But it was real.
With a great sigh, Georgiana burrowed her head into the soft pillow. How she was going to cope when next they met, as it seemed certain they would, she did not know. But cope she would. She had no intention of letting Bella guess the truth, nor of running away and leaving Bella alone. Arthur had offered her a way out of her troubles, and she had accepted in good faith. She would not let him down. Somehow she would manage.
Worn out, she closed her eyes. She needed to rest her troubled mind. And her troubled heart.
THE DUCHESS OF LEWES was holding her Grand Ball three nights later.
“One has to be a Duchess to call your ball ‘Grand,’” Bella acidly remarked. “Still, one has to be seen there. It’s one of the compulsory gatherings, you might say.”
She had arrived in Georgiana’s chamber just as that damsel emerged from her bath. Drifting to the bed, Bella fingered the lilac silk gown laid out there. Then, as if making up her mind, she turned to Georgiana. “Georgie, I know your feelings on this, but I really think you should consider wearing the sea-green gauze. You know I can never wear it. Please, wear it to please me.”
Georgiana looked up, arrested in the act of towelling herself dry. Golden curls, dampened with steam, wreathed her head. For one moment she hesitated, considering Bella’s plea.
“Wouldn’t it cause comment, being so soon after my father’s death?”
“But your father said you weren’t to go into mourning, remember? And although it’s common knowledge that your father has recently died, I haven’t told anyone how recently. Have you?”
Georgiana shook her head. She considered the sea-green gauze. Stubbornly, she had bought three more evening gowns from Fancon, all in lilac shades, rather than wear the two gowns Bella had surreptitiously bought. But really, what right had she to refuse? It was a simple request and, after all Bella’s help, it was a small price to pay. In reality, it was only her pride that forbade her to wear the delicate creations hanging ownerless in her wardrobe. So she smiled, fleetingly. “If it would please you.”
Bella grinned happily. “Immensely.” Her objective gained, she did not dally but whisked off to place herself in the hands of Hills.
Some three hours later, when they had finally gained the ballroom of Lewes House, Georgiana stood beside Bella and wondered why she had not overturned her stubborn pride weeks ago. The approbation in Arthur’s eyes when she had entered the drawing-room that evening had assured her that her decision to wear the gown had been the right one. And the unusually intent attention of her court, and of numerous other gentlemen she had not previously encountered, bore testimony to their approval of her change in style.
As she accepted Lord Mowbray’s arm for the first waltz, she smiled happily, laughingly returning his lordship’s pretty compliments. To her surprise, she had discovered she could preserve the façade of a young lady enjoying her first London Season, free of care and the tangles of love, despite her empty heart. She had never been encouraged to think her own troubles of particular note. Hence, she continued to observe the lives and foibles of those about her with interest. She treated all her court in the same friendly style she had always affected. True, there were few among the débutantes she could yet call friend, but Bella was there to supply that need, for which she would always be thankful.
Georgiana had no idea what exactly Bella had said to Lord Ellsmere. Whatever it was, he had gracefully withdrawn his suit, simultaneously assuring Georgiana of his lifelong devotion. For a whole evening, she had speculated on what Bella could have said. In the end, she decided she didn’t need to know.
Despite Bella’s fears, her refractory behaviour in the matter of her suitors had not given rise to any adverse effects. She was still “that most suitable Miss Hartley” to the hostesses, and the cards and invitations continued to flood in. She could hardly claim she did not enjoy the balls and parties. Yet, somewhere, some part of her was detached from it all, aloof and unfulfilled, empty and void, waiting. But, as she sternly lectured herself in the long watches of the night, what she was waiting for had no chance of arriving. Lady Winterspoon’s dictum had come to her rescue. There was nothing she could do but enjoy herself, thereby pleasing Bella and, as her father would have told her, extending her own experience. So, with typical abandon, she did.
By the end of the third dance, a cotillion, the rooms were starting to fill. Georgiana was escorted back to Bella’s side by her partner, Mr Havelock, and he remained beside them, chatting amiably of social happenings. When he finally made his bow and left them, Georgiana turned an impishly animated face to Bella. But what she had intended to say regarding Mr Havelock remained unsaid. In fact the words melted from her mind. Her lips parted slightly in surprise as her gaze locked with Viscount Alton’s.
Dominic had made his way to Bella’s side through the crush, intending to learn what had become of the golden girl he had left in her care. Only when she turned to face him did he recognise in the exquisite woodland nymph, standing slim and straight in silver-green gauze beside his sister, the same young girl whose heart-shaped face and warmed-honey eyes inhabited his dreams. The realisation left him momentarily bereft of words.
It was Bella who came, unwittingly, to their rescue. She uttered a small squeal of delight and, remembering to restrain her impulsive habit of throwing her arms about his neck, grabbed both of Dominic’s hands instead. He looked down at her, and the spell was broken. Smoothly, suavely, he raised her hands, first one, then the other, to his lips. “Dear Bella. Clearly in fine fettle.”
“But I thought you were fixed in Brighton.” Bella received her hands back, but had eyes only for her brother. She saw his gaze had moved past her to Georgiana. When he made no reply but continued to stare at Georgiana, she felt constrained to add, “But you remember Georgiana?”
“Assuredly.” Dominic couldn’t help himself. His voice had automatically dropped to a deeper register. He smiled into those huge honey-coloured orbs in a manner perfected by years of practice and, taking her small hand, raised it fleetingly to his lips.
Barely able to breathe, Georgiana blushed vividly and sank into the regulation curtsy.
Her blush recalled Dominic to his senses. When she straightened, his face had assumed its usual, faintly bored mien. He turned slightly to address Bella. “As you see, I’ve decided to exchange the extravagant but questionably tasteful entertainments of His Highness for the more mundane but distinctly more enjoyable pursuits of the ton.”
“Shhh!” said Bella, scandalised. “Someone might hear you!”
Dominic smiled sleepily. “My dear, it’s only what half of the Carlton House set are saying. Hardly fodder for treason.”
Bella still looked dubious.
But Dominic’s attention had wandered. “Perhaps, Miss Hartley, I can steal a waltz. Judging by the hordes of gentlemen hovering, you have few to spare.”
By this time, Georgiana had regained her composure and was determined not to lose it again. “The fruits of your sister’s hard work, my lord,” she responded readily. She placed her hand on his lordship’s sleeve, suppressing by force the shiver that ran through her at that simple contact. How on earth was she to survive a
waltz?
Thankfully, Lord Alton seemed unaware of her difficulties. One strong arm encircled her waist, and she was swept effortlessly into the dance. As her feet automatically followed his lead, she relaxed sufficiently to glance up into the dark-browed face above hers.
He intercepted her glance and smiled. “So you’ve been filling in time with all manner of social gadding?”
Georgiana shrugged lightly. “The pleasures of the ton have yet to pall, though I make no doubt they eventually will.”
The dark brows rose. “What a very novel point of view.” Dominic’s lips twitched. “Surely my sister has taught you that all débutantes must, of necessity, profess addiction to all tonnish pursuits?”
A small and intriguing smile lifted Georgiana’s lips. “Indeed, Bella has tried to convince me of the irreparable harm my lack of long-term enthusiasm might do to my chances. Still, I prefer to hold my own views.” Georgiana paused while they twirled elegantly around the end of the room, before continuing, “I find it difficult to imagine being satisfied with a routine composed entirely of balls and parties and such affairs. Surely, somewhere, there must be some greater purpose in life?”
She glanced up to find an arrested expression on the Viscount’s face. Suddenly worried she had inadvertently said more than she intended, Georgiana made haste to recover. “Of course, there may be a hidden purpose in such affairs—”
“No. Don’t recant.” His voice was low and betrayed no hint of mirth. His eyes held hers, unexpectedly serious, strangely intent. “Your views do you credit. Far be it from me to disparage them.”
Georgiana was left wondering whether there was, underlying his seriousness, some fine vein of sarcasm she had failed to detect. But she got no chance to pursue the matter; the music ceased and Lord Alton returned her to his sister’s side. With a smile and a lazy flick of one finger to Bella’s cheek, and a polite inclination of his head in Georgiana’s direction, he withdrew.
On the other side of the ballroom, Elaine Changley shut her ivory fan with a snap. Her cold blue eyes remained fixed upon a head of gold curls just visible through the throng. Surely Dominic hadn’t left her for a schoolgirl? Impossible!
The intervening bodies shifted, and Lady Changley was afforded a full view of Georgiana Hartley, slim and elegant at Bella Winsmere’s side. The blue eyes narrowed. Her ladyship had not reached her present position without learning to sum up the opposition’s good points. There was no doubt the girl had a certain something. But the idea of the charms of a delicate and virginal schoolgirl competing with her own experienced voluptuousness was too ridiculous to contemplate.
Lady Changley’s rouged lips set in a hard line. The thought of what her so-called friends would say if, after all her crowing, she was to lose a prize like Dominic Ridgeley to a chit of a girl fresh from the schoolroom was entirely too galling to bear. Perhaps a little reminder of what she could offer was due.
IT WAS PAST midnight when Georgiana slipped on to the terrace outside the ballroom. The last dance before supper was in progress, and the terrace was vacant except for the moonbeams that danced along its length. As the chill of the evening bit through her thin gown, she wrapped her arms about her and fell to pacing the stone flags, drawing in deep breaths of the refreshing night air.
She had yet to become fully acclimatised to the stuffy atmosphere of tonnish ballrooms. Feeling the heat closing in on her, she had very nearly suggested to her cavalier of the moment, Lord Wishpoole, that they retire to the terrace. Luckily, a mental vision of his lordship’s face expressing his likely reaction to such an invitation had stopped her from uttering the words, and doubtless saved her from the embarrassment of extricating herself from his lordship’s unnecessary and very likely scandalous company. Wary of giving Bella any further reason to view her with concern, she had pleaded a slight headache to Lord Wishpoole and headed for the withdrawing-room. Once out of his lordship’s sight, she had changed direction. The long windows of the ballroom had been left ajar, but the weather had turned and few guests had availed themselves of the opportunity to stroll on the long terrace.
Georgiana leant against the low balustrade and wished she was not alone. The idea of strolling beside Lord Alton, conversing easily while they took the air, was enticing. Only, of course, there was no possibility of Lord Alton wishing to stroll with her. Unfortunately, reality and dreams did not merge in that way.
The sound of footsteps approaching one of the doors at the far end of the terrace brought her upright. Someone pulled a set of doors wide, and light spilled forth. Startled, Georgiana looked around for a hiding-place. A tall cypress in a tub stood against the wall. Without further thought, she squeezed herself between the balustrade and the tree.
Through the scraggly branches of the tree she watched as a tall woman glided on to the terrace. The moonlight, resurrected now the doors were again shut, silvered her blonde hair. As she turned and looked towards the cypress, Georgiana caught a glimpse of diamonds glittering around an alabaster throat. The lady’s silk dress clung revealingly to a ripe figure; her long, graceful arms were quite bare.
Again light flooded the terrace and was abruptly cut off. Georgiana’s eyes grew round.
Dominic Ridgeley’s blue eyes were hard as they rested on Elaine Changley. His brows rose. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting, my lady?”
Inwardly, Elaine Changley winced at his tone. My lady? Clearly she had lost more than a little ground. But not a suspicion of her emotions showed on her sculpted face as she moved forward to place one slim hand on the Viscount’s lapel. “Dominic, darling. Why so cold?” she purred.
To her surprise and real consternation, Lady Changley sensed an instinctive rejection, immediately suppressed, but undeniable. Shock drove her to make a grab, however unwise, for her dreams. Allowing her lids to veil her eyes, she moved seductively closer. “Surely, my love, what lies between us cannot be ended with a simple ‘Goodbye’?”
Lady Changley was a tall woman. In one smooth movement, she pressed herself to Dominic’s chest, reaching up to place her lips against his.
Automatically, Dominic’s hands came to her waist, initially to hold her from him. But as he felt her silken form between his hands he stopped and quite coldly considered the situation.
He had come to the terrace in response to Elaine’s note, intending to make it quite clear that his “Goodbye” had meant just that. The problem he was having with Georgiana Hartley, or, rather, with making sense of his feelings towards a schoolroom chit, was his major and only concern. He had almost succeeded in convincing himself that it was merely a passing aberration, that the reason he no longer desired the company, let alone the favours, of the delectable Lady Changley was no more than a function of the natural passage of time and had nothing whatever to do with a slim form in green silk gauze. Almost, but not quite.
And now here was Elaine, providing him with a perfect chance to test the veracity of his conclusions. The acid test. Surely, if he were to kiss her now, a woman he had recently known so well, he would feel something?
On the thought, his hands moved to draw her more firmly against him. Then his arms closed around her and his head angled over hers as he took possession of her lips and then her mouth. He felt the ripple of relief that travelled through her long limbs. Warning bells sounded in his brain. He felt nothing—no glimmer of desire, no flicker of flame. The coals were long dead.
Abruptly he brought the kiss to an end and, lifting his head, put Elaine Changley from him. “And that, my dear, is very definitely the end. Adieu and goodbye.” With a terse bow, he spun on his heel.
Before he could leave, Elaine, desperate, stretched out one white hand to his sleeve. “You can’t just walk away from me, Dominic. There’s too much between us.”
The chill of his very blue eyes as they turned on her froze Elaine Changley’s blood. But, when he spoke, Dominic’s voice was soft—soft and, to Elaine Changley, quite deadly. “I suspect, my dear, that you’ll find you’re mist
aken. I should perhaps point out that any embarrassment you might suffer upon our separation will be entirely your own fault. And, furthermore, any attempt on your part to talk more into the relationship than was ever present will only result in your further embarrassment. So—” Dominic smiled—a singularly humourless smile—and lifted her hand from his sleeve, and thence, mockingly, to his lips “—I will, for the last time, bid you adieu.”
Elaine Changley made no attempt to detain him as he strode from the terrace. She was shivering, though not from the cold. Far too experienced to run after her ex-lover, Lady Changley forced herself to stand still until her composure returned. Only then did she follow Lord Alton back into the ballroom.
Georgiana let out a long breath. She emerged from behind the tub, automatically brushing her skirt free of small sticks and needles. She felt as if she had hardly breathed since scuttling behind the tree. That, of course, was the reason she was feeling light-headed. Nothing to do with the revelation that Bella’s brother was quite clearly and indisputably in love with Lady Changley. Why else would he have kissed her like that? She had been too far away to overhear their conversation, or to see their expressions, but the evidence of her eyes had been plain enough. Lady Changley had melted into Lord Alton’s arms. And he had welcomed her and kissed her as if he intended to passionately devour her.
She knew her love for him was hopeless. Had always known it.
Georgiana shivered. Slowly she looked around the terrace. Her innocent daydream seemed more distant than ever, elusive as the mist which wreathed the treetops. With a deep sigh, she pulled open one of the ballroom doors and re-entered the heated room. She finally located Bella amid a knot of their friends. Pushing through the throng, she made her way to her side, rehearsing her request to leave early on the grounds of a headache which she could now quite truthfully claim.
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