by Jo Beverley
No, Georgia. You could never be happy with him, or indeed, make him happy. He’d lose patience with your frivolity and need for the beau monde. You’d resent any attempt to restrain you, and you could never be a country wife.
He deserved better.
And she deserved better than a cold shoulder from so many.
When the dance ended, she kept up a smile but was seething underneath. Of course he noticed.
“Are your teeth gritted behind that smile?”
Everyone was flowing toward supper, but Georgia wasn’t sure she could swallow a morsel. Had Dracy heard the story about the false letter? From whom?
She suddenly wondered if she could track the poison to its source.
“Let’s not rush to eat,” she said. “We can go on the terrace for a while.”
“The best food will be gone.”
“I can survive that. Can you?”
“There are many kinds of feasts,” he said and went with her through the open doors, but his tone reminded her of all her good resolutions. She’d warned him, even more bluntly than she’d warned off Sellerby, but this could undo her good work.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said, turning to follow the rest. “There’s roasted lobster.”
He caught her wrist. “Tell me of the new rumors.”
His hand was hot, and he’d grasped her just above the mourning bracelet. Georgia had the strange notion that he and Dickon had formed an alliance in her cause.
“Perhaps a friend can help,” he said.
He’d used that word deliberately, telling her that he remembered and understood.
Perhaps he’d done the same with his talk of women around the world. That boastfulness wasn’t natural to him. Perhaps he’d wanted her to know that she was only one of many and needn’t carry his feelings as a burden.
“You navigate tricky waters well,” she said.
“I hope so.” He released her but said, “Tell me what’s happened to distress you, Georgia.”
She moved along the balustrade, out of hearing of the house. “Did you hear of the letter supposedly seen by my mother-in-law, the dowager Lady Maybury?”
“No. I know nothing of the dowager either.”
“I suppose you were still at sea last December.”
“Shore based, but I had no interest in this world.”
“I mean the dowager Lady Maybury, my husband’s mother. She approved me as his bride, but with the belief that Maybury and I would live at Maybury Castle, under her eye and management. We clashed from the start, of course, because I’d been trained to run a great house and expected to do so.”
“And were in the right,” he said, but then added, “My apologies.”
“For what?”
“For thinking you truly a peacock. It never occurred to me that you ran anything. Of course you did, and well too.”
“I hope so. We came to terms of a sort on management, but once Dickon—Maybury—achieved his majority, he wanted only to leave the castle and live in Town. I wasn’t reluctant, but in his mother’s eyes it was all my doing, even though she could then rule the castle supreme! Of course she wanted to rule him.”
“Of course.”
She looked at him. “You’re wondering why I’m rambling on, but there is a point. Before Maybury died she disliked and resented me, but afterward I was a wicked harpy from hell.” Before he could speak, she waved a hand. “I understood. Her only child had been killed and she had to blame someone. As there were those noxious rumors, why not me?”
He took her hand, and weakly, she allowed it.
“When the new Lord Maybury took possession, she had to leave the castle. A smaller wound, but still a wound. She took up residence in Cheltenham and made it her life’s work to inform everyone she met, everyone she wrote to, of my perfidious wickedness. She even wrote to me, but after the first letter, I had them blocked. I didn’t have them returned. It would only have deepened her pain.”
“You’re a remarkable woman, Georgia Maybury.”
“Remarkably disastrous, it would seem. I don’t know if it was deliberate, but her stories grew in detail and ferocity. I didn’t know it at the time, but from telling everyone that I tempted men to folly with my wanton ways, she progressed to asserting that I’d taken Vance as my lover, and then that I’d conspired with him to rid myself of my husband!”
She had to pause to gather her composure.
“I truly think she became addled toward the end,” she said, “for then she told anyone who visited her that she’d seen a letter from Vance which said exactly that. That I’d seduced him into killing my husband with the promise that I’d run off with him when I was free, taking the Maybury jewels with me. It would all be laughable if so many people hadn’t believed her. That was in December. I thought the madness had died with her, but now this resurrection tonight.”
“How?” he asked.
“I’m told that someone here is claiming to have the letter and intends to reveal it publicly. That would explain the growing coldness, but why would anyone spin such a wicked lie? Why would anyone hate me so?” When he squeezed her hand, she realized she was clinging to his. “It’s so unfair,” she said. “Oh, how weak and paltry…”
“But true. It’s unjust and unwarranted to boot. Are you sure this is happening?”
“Porterhouse, bless him, told me directly.”
“Good man.”
“I don’t understand why, though. What does anyone gain by this?”
“Bringing down Lady May,” he said. “Pure envy—that’s my speculation—and probably a woman. We can find her, you know.”
“That’s what I thought. There are only about a hundred people here, and she’s among them.”
He smiled. “As I said. A remarkable woman.”
“To want to find the person who wishes me ill?”
“To think quickly of action when attacked.”
“You underestimate women.…Lud! Winnie will kill me if I cause a grand scene.”
“I’ll defend you. Do you have any suggestions as to where we start?”
“I can think of three prime suspects.”
“Who?”
“Lady Waveney, Lady North, and Miss Cardross.”
“Waveney,” he said. “He paid you too much attention at the Herne dinner, which brought out the harpy in his wife. Miss Cardross resents the fact that men ignore her when you’re in the room. I’m sure she’s the center of attention in her home area.”
“I’m told she’s called the Gloucester Rose. Lady North simply disapproves of my shocking ways. When I look at it that way, there are probably any number of people who see me as a smallpox carrier, infecting the beau monde with wickedness.”
She bit her lip on tears, and he raised her hand and kissed it, pressing his warm lips firmly to her knuckles. “Don’t give our poisoner an added victory, Georgia. Be strong. Let’s set about our hunt.”
She let him turn her toward the house but said, “How?”
“We simply follow the crumbs. Do you have allies who would help?”
“I would have said many, but now I’m unsure. The Torrismondes and Harringays will always stand my friends.”
“Porterhouse?”
“Perhaps, though I’m not sure he’d hunt with us. I’d like to say Beaumont and Richmond, but I’ll not put them in an awkward position.”
“Even six should be enough.”
“But what do we do?” she asked. “I can’t bear to make things worse.”
“Doing nothing could make it worse, but detection should stop any further malice tonight.”
“Further…” Georgia balked at even entering the house.
“Courage,” he said. “You shall have the say about any action once our villain is found.”
He glanced around, then raised her chin so he could kiss her. A simple kiss. A comforting kiss.
A friendly kiss.
Why, then, did her toes curl with pleasure?
She pushed gently
away from him, knowing he was her anchor yet again. “Thank you. To the hunt, then.”
Dracy accompanied Georgia Maybury into the supper room, alert for clues. There were sliding looks aplenty, some cold, some disdainful, some disgustingly amused, but he caught no one looking triumphant. They were hunting a clever devil, then.
Now that he knew what was going on, he could understand some things he’d heard. There’d been murmurs about Georgia all night, but the change had been in the last hour.
He remembered hearing one man say, “What’s good for a man like Vance…”
Another had been more like Lady North and wondered if Lady Maybury was suitable company for his wife and daughter.
Dracy had been in a group when Titus Cavenham said that he’d heard Vance claim to be her lover just before the duel. Cavenham was an ass, but he wouldn’t lie about such a thing. Someone else had pointed out that what Vance claimed had nothing to do with truth, so Georgia had allies, but the men would remember Cavanham’s words.
Dracy would have defended her if no one else had, but he had to admit that he hadn’t been entirely sure. He believed in her essential goodness, but a naive and willful young wife could be seduced by a clever man. Vance didn’t sound clever or attractive, but he’d known women attracted to similar men.
Now he refused to believe it. Their recent discussion had wiped away all doubts. Lady May was innocent, vulnerable, gallant, and besieged, and he would stand by her side and slay her enemies, even without hope of reward.
“I don’t see the Harringays or Torrismondes here,” she said, scanning the supper room. “There are more tables on the side terrace.”
The side terrace was narrow but set with urns of flowers, shielded by an awning, and lit by lamps. As soon as they walked out there, someone called, “Georgia!”
They were being hailed by three ladies, and Georgia led the way to the table.
He’d danced with black-haired, buxom Lady Harringay and was introduced to Lady Torrismonde, a pretty lady with brown hair and a warm smile. A petite redhead with freckles was Lady Bryght Malloren. In the past weeks, he’d learned that any Malloren was a force to be reckoned with, but this one seemed harmless enough.
He seated Georgia and went off to forage, with a particular eye for lobster.
When he returned, the other three gentlemen were seated with their ladies. He knew Harringay and Torrismonde from Town, but not Lord Bryght. He was a surprising match for his wife—tall, dark, and as formidable as his eminent brother. Dracy had been approached by the Marquess of Rothgar and sounded out about his political stance. An unnerving experience for someone still unsure of it.
He was surprised that Lord Rothgar wasn’t here, dabbling in peacemaking and politics. Was Lord Bryght his deputy? There was no way to know, as the men avoided political subjects in the presence of the ladies.
Did the women truly lack interest? He’d met some around the world who were very interested indeed, and there were women who ruled nations. The czarina Catherine ruled Russia, and the empress Maria Theresa ruled Austria, Hungary, and a great many other places. He’d visited an African country ruled by a queen.
Without politics, or anything that could connect to it, the conversation was all gossip and trivialities, and he left it to Georgia to raise the subject of their villain when she thought the time right. He couldn’t help noticing how she relaxed into froth and badinage, like a mermaid returned to the sea. She positively shone and was quick with wit and bon mots.
This moonlit, sea-foam world was her natural milieu. To snatch her from it would be as evil as to trap a mermaid on dry land, but he wasn’t strong enough to entirely give up hope, especially when so many enemies circled.
She’d be safe at Dracy, murmured the devil. Tom and Annie would befriend her, and he’d guard and protect her. Together they could make Dracy a haven where she need never fear an enemy again.
Chapter 15
Georgia waited until the Mallorens left the table before speaking of her problem. They might have been willing to help, but she couldn’t be sure, especially of Lord Bryght. The Mallorens were always playing a deep game of their own. There was certainly no excuse to embroil the couple in her personal problems.
The Harringays moved as if to leave too, but she said, “Stay a moment.” Once they’d settled again, she continued. “You’ll have heard the whispers about the letter.”
Babs and her husband grimaced, as did Torrismonde, but Lizzie said, “What letter?”
“I didn’t want to upset you, love,” her husband said and gave her the story.
“That’s wicked! There can be no truth to it at all.”
“Of course not,” Torrismonde said, “but some people will believe anything spicy.”
“Cats,” Lizzie said.
“That’s to malign cats,” Georgia said. “Rats, let’s say. Lord Dracy and I were speaking about this, and we want to try to find the rat, here, tonight.”
“Here, tonight?” Lizzie echoed, looking alarmed.
But Babs leaned forward. “An excellent idea. How?”
Dracy spoke at last. He’d been very quiet. “Georgia doesn’t intend to make a grand affair of it, but only to warn the culprit that they’ve been detected.”
“We want to trace the story back,” Georgia said. “If you can each approach the person who told you and find their source, then ask that person and so on, we’ll have threads enough to trap a rat. In an hour, we’ll gather on the main terrace near the steps and share what we’ve learned.”
“But I don’t want to talk to people about such foul stuff,” Lizzie protested.
“Don’t be a rabbit, Lizzie,” Babs said. “You can frame it as outrage and make it clear that it’s all lies.”
“Ah,” said Lizzie, straightening. “That I can do.”
“But not too much outrage,” Georgia said. “I’ve no desire to stir a furor or to ruin Winnie’s ball. Are we all agreed?”
Everyone said yes, but Dracy said, “You can’t take part. No one’s going to talk to you about this.”
Georgia wanted to protest, but he was correct. “Then will someone please dance with me? Not you, Dracy. Not two dances in a row. That would be as good as an announcement.”
“I’m willing if you are,” he said, but as a joke, and the others laughed.
Georgia feared he hadn’t spoken entirely in fun.
Torrismonde offered to partner her, and they all rose.
Harringay gave the hunting call, “Tallyho!” and Babs dragged him away, hissing at him to be more subtle about it. Georgia strolled inside with the other three, truly dreading a return to the company. How had a simple ball come to this?
As they approached the dancing, Dracy said, “You could speak to Porterhouse. He’d tell you who told him.”
She smiled at him. “You understand my frustration. I’ll do that.”
Then they had to part, and she sorely missed her anchor.
* * *
Dracy watched Georgia and Torrismonde stroll over to where Porterhouse sat with two ladies. He had no thread to follow because he’d only overheard conversations and never been told anything directly, so he went to the smoking room. It was the main location for intense political discussions, but some men were also using it for its purpose, so the smoke hung in the air despite open windows.
Tobacco, he thought with a smile. He’d be haunted by it all his days, in all its forms, but smoking men also gossiped.
He saw Newcastle walk away from Georgia’s father, leaving the earl alone for a moment. Even better. “A word with you, Hernescroft.”
“Of course, Dracy. You are interesting yourself in the new ministry?”
“Not at all, sir. I am interesting myself in your daughter. You’ll have heard the new rumor.”
The earl’s face reddened. “Damned scandal, and at my elder daughter’s ball. Nothing to it, of course.”
“Of course, but it would be interesting, don’t you think, to follow the thread back to whoever st
arted the filth? Can you remember who told you?”
“My wife,” Hernescroft said. “You’d best ask her.”
Dracy thanked him and did so, finding Lady Hernescroft in the drawing room, where many of the older ladies were resting. Two were asleep.
“Follow the thread?” she said. “Excellent idea. I heard it from my daughter, Lady Thretford, and she heard it from Miss Cardross. Do you want me to ask her where she got it?”