Jettisoning that unproductive line of thought, she blushed again as she remembered Dominic’s rapid actions when the Duke and his friends had threatened discovery. She had sensed his suppressed laughter and had had to struggle to subdue her own, bubbling up in reply. It was odd, now she came to consider the matter, that she felt no sense of shame, only frustration.
Abruptly refocusing her thoughts once more, she tried to remember what he had said later, before they had gained the ballroom. Her mind promptly supplied the caress in his eyes as they had roamed appreciatively over her face and shoulders before he had complimented her on her gown. What had he said? Something about it being as pretty as her topaz silk.
The carriage jolted over a rut and she slipped sideways on the seat. She resettled herself in her corner, sightlessly watching the house fronts slip past the window.
Then her mind caught hold of the elusive memory, and his words replayed in her head. “It will doubtless vie for prominence in my memory with that topaz silk creation you wore at the masked ball.”
Georgiana gasped.
“Georgie? Are you all right?”
Struggling to draw breath, Georgiana managed a reassuring phrase, then, feeling winded, curled up in her corner and gave her full attention to her staggering discovery.
He had known!
Which, as she had long ago worked out, meant…Her mind went completely blank, unable to accept the implication. Yet it was the only explanation possible.
Her heart beating in double time, a host of quivery, fluttery feelings crowding her chest, Georgiana forced her mind to grapple with the unthinkable. He had known, therefore he was… Oh, heavens!
THE NEXT THREE DAYS passed in a haze of happiness. Georgiana hardly dared to believe her deductions, yet, whenever she met Lord Alton, every word, every action, confirmed them. He was paying court to her. Her—little Georgiana Hartley!
Bella seemed quite unaware and, yielding to the promptings of some sixth sense, Georgiana did not explain the source of her sudden elation to her friend. Bella had, certainly, noticed her glow. Uncharacteristically, she had yet to enquire its cause. But Georgiana was too much in alt to worry about such inconsistencies.
She had artfully managed to drop the information that Dominic had invited her to Candlewick for Christmas and she had accepted. Bella had feigned complete surprise, but Georgiana suspected she had known of her brother’s intent. The subtle smugness in her smile suggested as much.
It was Lady Chadwick’s gala tonight. She would see Dominic there, she was sure. They had yet to meet outside a ballroom, but it had only taken a moment or two to work out his strategy. Young and naïve as she was, even she knew any overt gesture on his part, any attention which could not be credited to a natural assistance to his sister’s protégée, would make them the focus of the most intense speculation. She had no wish to figure in the latest on dit, and was grateful for his care of her reputation.
So she had to make do with the caress in his eyes every time they met, the gentle promise of his smile, the touch of his fingers on hers. It was nowhere near enough. She contented herself with the thoughts that, when the time was right, he would surely advance their courtship to the stage where the heady delights he had introduced her to in the library of Massingham House would once again be on their agenda.
Bella had retired to rest before the Chadwick gala. Georgiana had come to her room with a similar intention. But her thoughts denied her sleep. Restless, she jumped off the bed and paced the room in small, swirling steps, then broke into a waltz, spinning about as anticipation took hold. Whirling almost out of control, she did not see the door open, and cannoned into Cruickshank as she entered.
“Oh!” Georgiana put a hand to her whirling head. “Oh, Cruckers! What a start you gave me.”
“I gave you?” said her dour maid, righting herself and shutting the door firmly. “Now, Miss Georgie, whatever’s got into you? Whirling about like a heathen, indeed!”
Georgiana giggled, but made no other reply. She was in love, but she had no intention of letting anyone into the secret. Anyone other than Dominic.
Cruickshank sniffed. “Well, if you’re so wide awake, I’ll get your bath-water brought up. We may as well spend the time beautifying you.”
Georgiana, thinking of the admiration she would see in a pair of bright blue eyes, gladly agreed.
THERE WAS NO supper waltz at the Chadwicks’ gala. Dominic had, instead, claimed both the first and the last waltzes of the evening. Twirling down the long ballroom, under the glare of the chandeliers, Georgiana suddenly realised why it was he always chose a waltz. He was holding her far closer than was the norm. And, when she blushed, all he did was laugh softly and whisper, “As I cannot steal you away, my love, to a place where we might in safety pursue our mutual interest, you can hardly deny this lesser joy.” The look that went with the words only made her blush more.
At the end of the dance, the last waltz of the evening, she was breathless and very nearly witless. Laughingly declining a most sensually worded invitation to take the air on the terrace—a highly dangerous undertaking, she had not a doubt—she whisked herself off to the withdrawing-room. A glass of cool water and a few moments of peace and quiet were all the restorative she needed. It would never do to let Bella see her return from a dance with her brother in such a state. There was, she felt sure, a limit to her friend’s blindness.
When she entered, the withdrawing-room, a large bedchamber on the first floor, was empty of other guests. While she sipped the cool water an attentive maid brought her, Georgiana strolled to the long windows. The cool night air beckoned; Georgiana stepped out on to the small balcony. Behind her, the door of the withdrawing-room opened and shut, but she paid the newcomers no heed.
Not until the words, “Alton’s such a cynical devil. D’you think he means marriage this time?” riveted her attention.
Slowly Georgiana turned to face the room. Standing still and silent in the shadows of the billowing draperies, she was concealed from the occupants, two matrons of considerable years and similar girth. They had dropped into two chairs and were busily fanning themselves while they considered the night’s entertainment.
“Oh, I should think so,” opined one, the fatter, pushing a wilting ostrich plume from over one eye. “After all, why else would he be dancing attendance as he is?”
“But she’s hardly his sort,” countered the other, resplendent in blue bombazine. “Just look at Elaine Changley. What I want to know is why an out-and-outer like Alton should suddenly succumb to a sweet young thing whose charms can’t possibly compare to those he’s become accustomed to.”
“But haven’t you heard?” The fat matron leaned closer to her companion and lowered her voice in conspiratorial fashion. “It’s her land he’s after.” She sat back in her chair and nodded sagely. “Seems she’s inherited a section of land Alton’s been chasing for years.”
“Oh. Well, that sounds more like it. Couldn’t imagine what had come over him.” The blue bombazine rustled and shuffled, then stood and stretched. “Come on, Fanny. If we don’t get back soon, that boy of yours will catch something you’ll wish he hadn’t.”
Frozen, her senses suspended, Georgiana remained on the balcony while the two ladies fussed over the frills on the gowns before departing for the ballroom.
The Place. Georgiana wished she had never heard of it. And, of course, the words rang all too true. According to Bella, it was an obsession of her brother’s. Georgiana’s heart turned to ice, a solid chilled lump in her breast. Slowly, hardly aware of what she was doing, she came back into the room, pausing to place the glass she was carrying on a side-table.
Then she looked up and caught sight of herself in the mirror above the dressing-table. Huge haunted eyes stared back at her, stunned and distressed. She couldn’t go back to the ballroom looking like that.
Drawing a deep breath, Georgiana shook herself, then straightened her shoulders and blinked several times. Pride was not much comfo
rt, but it was all she had left. Determined to think no more about what she had heard until she had the privacy to indulge her tears, she left the room.
Once back in the crowded ballroom, misery hovered, threatening to engulf Georgiana if she relaxed her superhuman effort to ignore the matrons’ words. She had to survive the rest of the gala. But Bella, seeing the stricken look in her friend’s eyes, was immediately concerned.
“No, Georgie! We’ll leave right now. There’s no reason at all we need stay for the rest of this boring party.”
With a determined frown, Bella silenced Georgiana’s protests, and, within minutes, they were ensconced in the carriage and on their way to Green Street.
Bella yawned. “One thing about leaving just that little bit early—you can always get your carriage straight away.” She stretched and settled herself. “Now, what’s the matter?”
But Georgiana had had time to get herself in hand. She had anticipated the question and strove to deflect Bella’s interest. “Nothing specific. It’s just that I seem to have developed a migraine. I find it hard to go on once it comes on.”
“Oh, you poor thing!” exclaimed Bella. “You just lie back quietly. As soon as we’re home, I’ll get Cruickshank to brew a tisane for you. I won’t speak to you any further. Now try to rest.”
Grateful for Bella’s silence, Georgiana sank into her corner of the seat and gave herself up to her chaotic thoughts. After several minutes of totally pointless recollection, she forced herself to view the facts calmly. First of these was the relationship she knew existed between Lord Alton and Lady Changley. There was no doubt it was real—not just from the gossip, but from the evidence of her own eyes, on the terrace that fateful night. The memory of the passionate kiss Lord Alton had bestowed on Lady Changley was imprinted indelibly on her mind. He had never kissed her—let alone with such ardour. She recalled her early conviction that his attitude to her was merely that of helpful friendship, giving what assistance he could to his sister in her efforts to find a husband for her protégée. And his behaviour at the masked ball? Well, she had always thought he had not known who the lady in the topaz silk was. When had he told her he knew? Only a few days ago, long after he had learned of her inheritance. He could easily have found out what she had worn to the ball—from Bella if no one else. And then, too, Bella’s ready acceptance of her sudden happiness could be easily explained if her friend knew her brother was paying court to her.
Georgiana stifled a sob. A few hours ago her world had looked rosy indeed. Now all her hopes lay in ashes about her. She had thought he was different, blessed with all the virtues, strong and steady and protective. Now it seemed he was no different from the rest. His love for her was superficial, assumed, of no great depth, called forth only by her possession of the Place. His main interest in life was status and wealth, with all the trappings. Why, he was not much better than Charles. And Bella thought nothing of Dominic’s marrying her to gain title to the land. In all probability, he planned to keep Lady Changley as his mistress, even after they were married.
Georgiana tried to whip up her anger, her disdain. She must despise him, now she knew of his plans. But, as the miles rolled by, a cold certainty crept into her heart. She loved him far too much to despise him. Surely love wasn’t meant to hurt so much?
Disillusioned on every front, she huddled into her corner and wept.
CHAPTER NINE
A SLEEPLESS NIGHT filled with hours of crying was no remedy for Georgiana’s ailment. Bella took one look at her in the morning and insisted she spend the day in bed. Georgiana was in no mood to argue. But she winced at Bella’s last words, floating in her wake as, having insisted on tucking her in, she tiptoed out of her bedroom. “For don’t forget, we’ve the Mortons’ ball tonight, and that’s one event we can’t miss.”
Georgiana closed her eyes and let misery flow in. But she knew Bella’s reasons for attending the ball, the Mortons being old family friends, and knew she could not avoid going. She had revised her opinion of Bella’s part in her brother’s schemes. No one who was as kind as Bella could possibly be party to such cold-blooded manipulation. And there was Arthur, too. Try as she might, it was impossible to cast Bella’s husband in the light of a hard-hearted character who would idly watch while a young girl was cajoled into a loveless marriage. No. Neither Bella nor Arthur knew of Dominic’s schemes. Not that that made life all that much easier, for she could hardly ask them for advice on such a matter. Still, she was glad she had at least two friends she could count true.
The evening came all too soon. Under the combined ministrations of Cruickshank and the redoubtable Hills, supervised by Bella herself, the ravages of her imaginary migraine were repaired until only her lacklustre eyes and her pallid complexion remained as witness to her inner turmoil.
Those items were sufficient, however, to immediately draw Dominic’s attention to her distress. As was his habit, he gravitated to her side immediately she appeared in the ballroom.
“Georgiana?” Dominic bowed slightly over her hand, his eyes searching her face.
Flustered and weak, Georgiana retrieved her hand immediately, not daring to meet his intent gaze. Her heart was thudding uncomfortably, bruised and aching.
Dominic frowned. “My dear…”
At his tone, desperation flooded Georgiana. She raised her head, but still could not meet his eyes. “I’m afraid, my lord, that my dance card is full.”
The silence on her left was complete. She had just entered the ballroom—he must know she was lying.
Dominic felt his face drain of expression. His jaw hardened. The impulse to call her bluff was strong. Then he noticed again her pallor, and the brittle tension in her slim frame, and swallowed his anger.
Stiffly, he bowed. With a cold, “My dear,” he forced himself to walk away.
Dominic spent the first two dances watching Georgiana from the side of the room, unsure of his feelings, unsure, for what seemed like the first time in his life, of what to do. What the hell was going on? Then, finding himself the object of more than a few curious glances, he took himself off to the card-room.
He was rapidly inveigled into playing a few hands, but his mind was not on the game, and no one demurred when he left the table and returned to drift idly about the ballroom, keeping an unobtrusive eye on Georgiana. He had been careful enough for their association to have passed for mere acquaintance. If he displayed too overt an interest now, it would be tantamount to a declaration. But the impulse to cross the floor and haul her out on to the terrace and demand an explanation for her extraordinary conduct grew.
If she had betrayed the slightest hint of partiality for any other gentleman, he would have done it, and the consequences be damned. Luckily, she seemed unusually subdued, dancing only with those he knew she deemed her friends, refusing all others.
Slowly, his mind calmed and he started to sort through the possibilities in a more methodical fashion. At the Chadwicks’ gala, all had been well, until after their last dance. She had gone off to the withdrawing-room, and he, careful of appearances, had gone to make one in the card-room. When he had returned to the ballroom, he had found the Winsmere party had decamped. That had not surprised him at the time, knowing Bella’s condition. But perhaps there had been some other reason for their early departure.
Useless to speculate, when he had no idea what might have occurred. But between that last waltz and this evening, something had happened to destroy the carefully nurtured bond between himself and Georgiana.
Feeling very like hitting someone, but having no idea whom, Dominic scowled and strode out on to the balcony. The cool air brought some relief to his fevered brain. This was ridiculous. He was thirty-two, for heaven’s sake! The effect Georgiana’s withdrawal was having on him was both novel and highly unnerving. He didn’t like it. And he’d be damned if he’d endure it for a minute longer than necessary.
Drawing a deep breath, he frowned direfully at the young couple who, giggling softly, came up out of the
secluded garden. Surprised to find him there, arms folded and looking so grim, they fled back to the ballroom. Dominic sighed. If he did not have to be so circumspect, he could have taken Georgiana into the garden and made delicious love to her—
Abruptly he cut off the thought. Right now, it seemed as if she wasn’t even speaking to him.
He would have to find out what was upsetting her. From the few comments he had exchanged with his sister, Bella clearly had no idea what had happened—she still had no idea of his interest in Georgiana. He needed to see Georgiana alone. For several moments, he pondered various schemes for attaining this end, finally settling on the one which, although it would not allow the fiction of the avuncular nature of his interest to stand, had the best chance of success.
With his decision made, he left the terrace to lay the necessary groundwork to put his plan into action.
GEORGIANA had no idea how she survived the Mortons’ ball. It remained, long afterwards, a dull ache in her memory. She was glad, she kept telling herself, that Lord Alton had accepted her dismissal so readily. It would have been too much to bear if he had insisted she speak with him. Perhaps he had realised she had come to understand his motives and would not be the easy conquest he had expected. Hopefully, he would stay away from her now. Depressed and weary, she slept the sleep of exhaustion, and awoke the next morning, refreshed at least in body, if not in spirit.
Despondent, she trailed into the breakfast-room.
“Georgie! Are you feeling better this morning?”
Bella’s solicitude brought Georgiana to her senses. She had no right to wallow in misery and act like a raincloud over her friend. Summoning a wan smile, Georgiana nodded. “Yes. I’m fine.”
Bella’s face suggested she did not look fine, but, instead of harping on the subject, Bella started chattering about the events that would fill the next week and bring the Little Season to an end. Georgiana listened with half an ear.
Impetuous Innocent Page 19