Emerson had been grateful to see his butler hovering a few feet away as the group of people gathered to be greeted by the Duke of Calder had greatly increased. He realized that he had been speaking to the Allencourt party for some time, perhaps devoting a little too much attention to them as compared with everybody else in attendance.
“Well, you must enjoy your afternoon and the fine weather we seem to be blessed with today,” Emerson said in a sort of polite dismissal that he was not at all comfortable with.
He had never really been comfortable with much of what went along with being such a titled man, and it did not seem at all right to behave that way with Georgina Jeffries. It felt so false.
The rest of his greetings seemed to drift by in a haze of indistinct chatter, as all the while Emerson let his attention stray this way and that just to see where she was.
It was almost as if he could not quite believe he had seen her, not to mention the fact that she had appeared not to recognize him. Every time he looked, he fully expected her to be looking back at him, her face full of recollection of the boy who had once lived in her house.
Emerson sighed and poured himself another large whisky, settling back into the heavy armchair that he had drawn up to the fire. He looked and felt dishevelled, with his tailcoat thrown carelessly over the back of the chair and his blue waistcoat hanging open. He had untied the necktie of his shirt and let it hang loosely down over the top of his unbuttoned waistcoat.
He ran his hand through his thick hair and could feel that it had given up its attempt at neat ash-brown order and had returned to its ordinarily unruly state.
Emerson took a hearty gulp of the whisky and knew that he had already taken too much; his head would be thick and cloudy the next day, and he would regret taking on so much alcohol. But that concern was for tomorrow.
As the alcohol began to take the edge off his concerns, Emerson realized that there was another reason why he had spent the rest of the garden party with one eye on Georgina Jeffries. In all his one and twenty years, Emerson Lockhart knew that Georgina Jeffries had indeed been his only real friend.
It was true that he had not seen her for more than a decade, but her kindness and care when they were children was something that he had never forgotten, despite his best efforts to adhere to his father’s advice of retraining his mind to believe in a different past altogether.
Georgina or Georgie as he had called her back then, was the only person he had ever missed when he had been taken away that night by Garrett Winstanley; ripped out of one world and neatly inserted into another.
He had been but eleven years old the last time he had seen her, and she just nine. But she had been a clever, quick-witted little girl, one with a big heart and the courage to use it wisely. She had defied the awful old woman, the one he had a recollection was her grandmother, to befriend the boy who was nothing more than a servant in her house.
But he also remembered that Georgie, like him, seemed always to be alone. They were the only children in that great house, and they were of an age to make natural friends.
It seemed to him that so much had happened since then, so many changes had occurred in his young life, that he could hardly remember much of what had gone before. And when he added in his father’s version of events, the things he must practice until he believed them himself, it all became much more confusing.
But Emerson was sure he could remember Georgie finding herself in trouble on more than one occasion for spending too much time with the boy who helped out in the stables, cleaned the boots and shoes, and took on whatever little tasks the housekeeper set him to.
And he remembered how it felt every time Georgie returned to him, even when he thought that her grandmother had chastised her so much that she never would. It always filled him with hope somehow, the idea that there might be more people out in the world just like Georgie. People who did not judge or only select their friends from a very narrow group of people.
But what he could not remember was quite how he got to that place in Hertfordshire initially. He knew with certainty that he had been a servant in Georgie’s home, and when she had said she had lived on the edge of the small town of Horley, the memory of that name had flooded back with such force he had been absolutely certain that he could only be talking to his old childhood friend.
Emerson wondered if there had been another life before he had arrived at that house in Hertfordshire. And how was it that he had come to be there when his own father had been born and always lived in Devonshire? If only the old Duke had explained that to him when he had asked. After all, it was little enough information for a man to have about his own origins.
Draining the remaining whisky in the glass and determining not to have any more, Emerson wondered if his own mother had been from Hertfordshire. But whether she was or was not, it could not explain why he had ended up as a servant in the house of people he was sure he did not know or have any connection to.
And yet he remembered being there from a very young age, he was sure. Emerson let out a great sigh and knew that he would have to revisit such memories when his head was much clearer. These were things which had been lashed down beneath a haze of half-truths and outright lies; things which had not been thought of fully for several years.
It would take some work, Emerson knew, but he would have to go back to that time in his head and search for old truths which now might make sense.
And as for Georgie, he really did not know what to do. Although she seemed to be as clever as always, but now with the poise and grace of a grown woman, Emerson realized that he did not really know her anymore. If she did find out who he was, what might she do with that information? Would she make it known to all, or would she still be a friend to him and defy the expectations of those around her?
He determined that he would find out more about Georgie; he would gently try to discover if she was still the same person underneath her adult exterior. And he would start with the musical evening at the assembly rooms.
That was the only further piece of information Emerson had gathered after leaving the Allencourt party to make their way into the gardens. When they had bid farewell to their host and had begun to depart for their own carriage at the end of the afternoon, Emerson had overheard Fleur Allencourt telling her cousin that she dearly hoped she would be well enough to attend the assembly rooms when the string quartet was playing.
Emerson rose to his feet and slumped out of the drawing room, slowly heading for the stairs in a less than straight line. Now that he was upright, his head was spinning, and he knew that he would have a most uncomfortable night followed by a most unhealthy morning.
But soon he would be back to his old self and able to think things through properly and decide how best to truly proceed.
Chapter 5
“I promise you that I am quite well, Fleur, really,” Georgina said and smiled as the two women walked arm in arm into the assembly rooms in the little town of Rowley.
Rowley was the closest town to Winton House, and Georgina thought it a wonderful place. It did not have quite as many and varied shops as there were to be found in Horley, but the place was so enchanting and every bit the seaside town that Georgina thought she much preferred it.
The assembly rooms were extraordinarily large given the less dense population on that part of the Devonshire coast. It was nicely set out with an even mixture of wooden panelling and plain cream painted walls. The chandeliers were simple, but many, and the overall effect was of a spacious and well-lit meeting place for the people of the town.
“I know you managed very well at the garden party, Georgina, but it is evening now and very much cooler than it was on that day. Are sure that you are warm enough?” Fleur said with genuine concern.
Although Fleur liked to fuss around her, Georgina did not mind a bit. Her cousin, she was beginning to realize, cared about everyone and everything in a way that was almost a habit.
“I really am so fortunate to have you to lo
ok out for me, Fleur. But it would be wrong of me not to tell you that I am sure that I have not felt so healthy for years. Really, coming here to stay with you and your family seems to have given me a new lease of life entirely. I am sure that I did not feel this content even before I had fallen ill. But at the same time, I do not wish to admit to too much good health or else I shall be sent home to Ashdown Manor and my ever more quiet life.”
“I am sure that Papa would not mind if you stayed forever, Georgina. I know that he is glad to have you here, and it pleases him to see the two of us getting along like sisters. And Jeremy is thrilled to have another person to add to his small audience every day.” Fleur laughed. “So, you must not worry about that. I should wish you to stay for as long as you like.”
“I am so glad because I have already grown very fond of Winton House and everybody in it.”
“Even Great-Aunt Belle?”
“Oh yes, indeed,” Georgina said enthusiastically. “I do not think her at all sharp, Fleur, but I am comparing her to my grandmother who, it must be said, was one of the sharpest and most fearsome women of my acquaintance. As much as I cared for her, she always did frighten me just a little.”
“I suppose at least Aunt Belle is not frightening,” Fleur said and laughed enthusiastically.
Georgina and Fleur had been allowed to attend the assembly rooms on their own since it was to be a sedate evening of music performed by a locally renowned string quartet. There was no dancing planned, and the place was already set out with many seats on the floor that would ordinarily have been used by dancers.
Still, it was true that Felix Allencourt was not a strict man, and he trusted both his son and his daughter to be out in the world and behave appropriately whilst always remaining alert to the pitfalls that the society of other people often presented.
As a result, both Jeremy and Fleur were very sensible and capable young people who had the confidence to travel well and adapt easily to varying company. Secretly, Georgina felt a little youthful next to the two of them as if her life had been just a little more sheltered than theirs.
And it had certainly been very much lonelier, that much she knew for sure. And it was that more than anything else which made her determined to get as much out of her stay in Devonshire as she could.
The evening at the assembly rooms was just one more opportunity to meet new people. Although much of the evening would be spent in silence whilst the musicians played, still she knew that there would be time for a little socializing before and after, not to mention during the interval.
As the two cousins walked in and settled themselves down on seats near the back of the room, Georgina could see that there were already a large number of people arrived and seated. And it was with some dismay that she realized that many of the other guests that evening were a good deal older, most of them nearer to her parents’ age than her own.
Fleur did not seem to be at all put out by it, but then Georgina thought that Fleur had greater opportunities in her life to spend time in the society of many young people. Georgina herself had only ever had two or three close friends, and so it was when they turned their young minds to thoughts of marriage, Georgina seemed to have lost her entire circle in one fell swoop.
Still, Georgina had decided to make the most of every moment, and so she would. She looked brightly around her as everybody waited in hushed chatter for the musicians to make their way out onto the stage and was surprised to see the Duke of Calder walking in through the wide arched doorway from the entrance lobby.
Once again, Georgina had the curious sensation she knew him from somewhere. She knew, of course, that it could not be so. She had never been to Devonshire before in her life and, between that fine county, Eton, and Oxford, she very much doubted that the Duke had been to Hertfordshire. After all, had he not told her himself that he believed Hertfordshire was a fine county? It certainly seemed to her that he had never been there himself.
And as for them having met somewhere else, Georgina knew for certain that that could not be true. Her life had centred around Horley and Hertfordshire with the occasional short journeys into London. That truly was the extent of her experience although she had to admit that she had not suffered particularly or even thought about it until she had spent the last weeks with Fleur and Jeremy.
The Duke looked very well indeed that evening, and she surreptitiously kept her eye on the archway as she waited to see what company he would be keeping. When he continued on alone with no companion at all, Georgina was very surprised.
How could it be that a man of such standing would ever find himself short of company? She had the sad feeling she had experienced when she had looked up at so many windows at Calder Hall and wondered how one man might feel to live alone in so great a place.
But why on earth should he be lonely? And why on earth should she think him so? And, as far as the evening went, perhaps he did not care for company when his purpose was to listen to a musical recital.
“I say, it is the Duke,” Fleur said in a sudden whisper.
“Yes, I had thought as much,” Georgina said hoping to disguise the fact that she had been secretly peering at him for some moments.
“I would not have expected to see him here,” Fleur went on thoughtfully.
“I daresay he enjoys music as much as the next person.” Georgina laughed. “But he does appear to be here alone.”
“I am not so sure, Georgina, I think he is looking for somebody. Look, he is searching the audience, I am sure of it.” Fleur began to search the audience too as if she might, quite by magic, discern who exactly it was the Duke of Calder was looking for.
Georgina, however, continued to surreptitiously study him, marking how well he looked in full black with smart boots and a white shirt. His hair was very much less controlled than it had been at the garden party, and she thought she liked it better that way. And, under the light of so many chandeliers, the soft brown gave up its curious silvery quality. It was not a grey or silver such as an old man’s might be, but something else altogether, and it really was so thick that Georgina thought she had never seen such a fine head of hair.
When he turned to look at her finally, Georgina almost gasped. He seemed to stand awkwardly for a moment, just looking over at her. And Georgina, for her part, dared not look away and make a fool of herself with some pretense that she either did not recognize him or had not even been looking at him in the first place, for it was simply ridiculous.
After the slightest hesitation, he smiled at her and nodded, and she did the same. And then, surprising her entirely, the Duke of Calder began to make his way over to where Georgina and Fleur were sitting.
“Good evening, Miss Jeffries,” the Duke said and bowed. “And Miss Allencourt, I hope you are well?” he went on, entirely surprising Fleur who had still been fully engrossed with her intention of discovering the object of the Duke’s curiosity.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” the two young women said almost in unison.
“No, please do not stand, it is not necessary,” he said hurriedly and held out a hand to insist that both women keep their seats. “I wonder if I might join you unless you have this seat saved for somebody else?”
“Of course you may join us, Your Grace,” Georgina said hurriedly when she realized quite how unsettled he seemed to be.
Fleur, for her part, remained mute. It seemed to Georgina that her cousin was almost as nervous as she had been on the first day she had met him at the garden party. Georgina did not feel the same way, greatly sensing the handsome and well-dressed young man who had just taken a seat at her side was not quite as brimming with confidence as she might have imagined a Duke to be.
As far as titles went, the most important that Georgina had ever met was an Earl, and he certainly behaved in a much grander and more arrogant manner than the Duke of Calder. In fact, Emerson Lockhart’s behaviour was altogether warmer and much more comfortable, but perhaps that was because he was a very young man for such a title;
perhaps austere manners took time to grow into.
“Thank you kindly, for I think we three are the only people in attendance tonight with youth on our side.” He chuckled in a way that made Georgina laugh.
There was something a little mischievous about it as if he were a young boy making a sly comment behind his hand and hoping that the adults might not hear.
“Yes, for some reason this evening’s music does not seem to have attracted many young people,” Georgina agreed.
“I hope you are not too disappointed, Miss Jeffries,” he went on somewhat more sensibly. “I am sure that you might have preferred a much livelier crowd. Unless, of course, more sedate society might suit you a little better whilst you are convalescing.”
“I am really very much better than I was, Your Grace.”
“And were you laid low for a long time, Miss Jeffries?” he went on, and she thought it strange that the Duke should be so attentive to such details as might otherwise be considered minor to a man of his station.
A Damsel for the Mysterious Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 4