A life such as his own had been?
“But back to your problem, lad. Would you like me to inquire about Captain Carson? Perhaps we could find her family that way. Or at least learn something about them.”
“Thank you, Carlington. Your help would be most welcome.”
“You’re not thinking of backing out of the engagement, are you? Based on the information you gather about her family?”
How could he answer such a question when they weren’t actually engaged? But if they were... “Blood matters, sir. It is who you are.”
“Pah! That’s nonsense, Hunter. If you believe that, you’d best not involve yourself with an orphan.”
“But Georgiana is of good blood, else Lady Caroline would not have been her mother’s friend or taken her in and raised her as her own. Indeed, left her all her worldly goods.”
Carlington gave him a sage smile. “Good blood, bad blood—we all stand naked before our maker, stripped of titles, position, wealth, beauty or consequence. We will be called to answer not for who we were born to or where we came from, but for what we have made of our lives and how we have conducted ourselves.”
Charles did not know if he could believe that. Surely the Carlingtons of the world were not on equal footing with the likes of Dick Gibbons.
He finished his sherry and stood. “Thank you for your time, Carlington. Send to me if you learn anything, will you?”
“Of course. Oh, and my invitation to bring your fiancée ’round for a chat stands, no matter what you find about her family. I’d very much like to know her better.”
Charles smiled as he took his hat from a footman. More likely Carlington would quiz Georgiana about Lady Caroline. “I will, sir.”
Chapter Ten
Charles spotted Georgiana and Harriett in the supper box he had reserved for them. Sanders—Georgiana’s tall, lanky footman—stood watchfully by. Charles was gratified to see that she’d had the foresight to bring an escort of some kind. They’d learned nothing in the past few days if not that the threat of danger lurked at every turn.
At his elbow, Sir Harry Richardson, freshly back from Kent with no news whatsoever, spotted them, too. “Ah, you’ve brought a morsel for me. The lovely Miss Harriett Thayer.”
“Tread lightly there.”
Richardson shrugged. “I know how to mind my manners. More than I can say for you on some occasions, Hunter.”
“Ah, but I am wise enough to restrict my amorous adventures to the demimonde.” The words were no more than out of his mouth when he realized that had all changed last night.
As he and Richardson wound their way through the maze of boxes, Miss Harriett waved to friends strolling along a path bordering the area. She said a few words over her shoulder to Georgiana and then hurried toward her friends. Sanders looked as if he did not know which woman to escort. Charles could solve that problem, at least. “See that Miss Thayer does not go astray, will you, Richardson?”
His friend grinned. “Gladly.”
Perfect. Now all he had to do was to think of some errand to occupy Sanders so that he could have a moment alone with Georgiana. She’d been docile enough this morning, but he could not guess her mood tonight. She was preoccupied with arranging the table settings and he came up behind her to slip one hand around her, pull her back against his chest and cover her eyes with the other. “Guess who.”
The tension in her muscles relaxed with the sound of his voice. “Um, Mr. Farmer?”
What? Could she be serious? “No.”
“Sir Harry?”
Ah, she was teasing. That playful sense of humor had been one of the things that had made him fall in love with her. “No. Not Harry.”
“Not Lord Wycliffe?” she asked with a note of exaggerated shock.
He laughed. “Mr. Hunter.”
“And which Mr. Hunter would that be?”
He grinned and lowered his voice as he uncovered her eyes and turned her about to face him. “The Mr. Hunter whose name you cried out in passion last night. The one whose arms you swore never to leave. The one who brought you to a boil and—”
“Ah no, it couldn’t be him.” The delicate pink of a blush began to creep up her cheeks. “Did he not say I had rendered him completely useless for at least a week? He would be home recovering on milk toast and weak tea, poor thing.”
He laughed. “I recover quickly.”
“I had noticed that.”
“I think I like this Georgiana,” he said, quickly brushing his lips across hers before they could be seen. “She reminds me of a girl I used to know years ago.” But, oddly, and much to his discomfort, he found he was growing to like this woman even better.
“Does she? I hope you dealt more kindly with her than you did with me.”
More kindly than he had with her? To the contrary, she had been the one to deal unkindly. “Would you care to explain that, Georgiana?”
Her blush deepened. “No, I would not. It is in the past and I would prefer to leave it there.”
A serving girl stepped into the box carrying a large tray of thinly sliced cold meats and cheeses along with a selection of fruit and breads. This was not the time to pursue the matter, but he would revisit the subject soon. Twilight had deepened and he signaled Sanders to lay out the light repast.
“Shall we fetch the others for supper?” He took Georgiana by the arm, leading her onto the walk that Richardson and Harriett Thayer’s group had taken, hoping to catch up with them.
“And what did Hathaway have to say this morning, Mrs. Huffington?”
She sighed deeply. “I fear I did most of the talking. I found him going through my things.”
Charles felt his hackles rising. He’d been right to distrust the man. “And?”
“I dismissed him.”
Such an encounter would be difficult for Georgiana, but she’d found the mettle for it. “Sent him on his way?”
“Well...”
“Ah. Perhaps you’d best tell me the rest of the story.”
“He appeared to be surprised. I really do not think he understood how impertinent he’d become. How unmanageable. And when I offered him half pay for a month, he—”
“Half pay?” He raised his eyebrows. She was far too generous to a man who’d been nothing but disrespectful. “I imagine he was only too glad to take it and leave before you changed your mind.”
“Well...he felt I was being unfair and called his previous service into account. The whole affair was unpleasant, so I agreed to give him full pay for a month just to have it done with.”
She gazed off into the distance, as if remembering the scene, and Charles curbed his impatience. “At least he is gone now, and you will not have to deal with him again.”
“Actually...”
Incredulous, he stopped and faced her beneath a pool of light afforded by one of the lamplights. “Say you did not allow him to stay.”
“Just for tonight. He seemed so at a loss, and could not believe that I would toss him out without so much as a moment’s notice. I made it clear, though, that he would have to be gone by tomorrow whether he had lodgings or not.”
Charles was torn between anger and amusement. “Hmm. Let me ponder this problem. You found your ill-mannered butler rifling through your personal belongings with God only knows what purpose in mind. Then, though you have every cause to dismiss him on the spot, you negotiate his severance pay to a level unheard of in London—or anywhere else, I might add—and then allow the man to stay on, giving him access to your home and belongings. And yourself, Georgiana. Yes, I rather think he got the best of you.
“Have your situation and recent occurrences not taught you that you can trust no one? Hathaway could, even now, be robbing you blind. Or lying in wait for your return to retaliate in some unspeakable manner.”
He halted at the stricken look on her face. Clearly none of what he’d said had occurred to her. “I shall go home with you and deal with Hathaway. If you are insistent that he be allowed to stay th
e night, I shall remain, as well. In the morning I shall summon a locksmith to change the locks. Are any of your servants more loyal to him than to you?”
“I...I do not think so. I believe he has always set himself above the other servants. I shall ask Clara if there is any talk below stairs.”
“Your kind heart does you credit, Georgiana, but you mustn’t allow it to blind you to those who would take advantage.”
She tilted her head up to him and he lost his thoughts in the green depths of her eyes. Dear Lord, how could he want her more this instant than he had last night? Than he had all those years ago? He lowered his lips to hers slowly, savoring the anticipation of the moment they’d meet, of the lushness of those soft petals, of the sweetness of her tongue....
The stillness was broken by a sharp report, followed by a cacophony of raised voices. Instantly alert, he released her and stepped away. “Wait here, Georgiana. Do not go anywhere, and do not leave the light.” He sprinted forward, certain some disaster lay ahead.
* * *
Georgiana watched as Charles disappeared. Though it had been a small alarm, she prayed that nothing had befallen Harriett.
She sank onto a stone bench on the edge of the lamplight and inhaled deeply. The night was cool and fragrant with the scent of spring flowers. Her life had become almost magical since last night. Whatever old anger Charles had been carrying against her had dissipated last night and she could almost believe the clock had turned back seven years. Could she trust him this time? Was this a second chance for them? She glanced up to find a star, then closed her eyes to make her wish.
A hand clamped over her mouth and another held her shoulder, keeping her immobile. Instinctively, she clawed at the hand, squealing as best she could.
“Hush, girl. I ain’t gonna hurt you,” a hoarse voice whispered in her ear.
The fetid breath that brushed her cheek made her want to gag. She tried to calm herself and do as she was told. Reason told her that if this man wanted her dead, he could have cut her throat by now.
“Do as I tell you an’ don’t turn around.”
She managed a nod.
“Now, I gots things to tell you, so pay attention, eh?”
The hand eased off her mouth. Calculating that her best chances for escape lay with compliance, she nodded, ready to run the moment he released her shoulder.
“You ain’t doin’ what you should. Stay away from them blasted Hunters. Charlie most of all. You owes me that much. He ain’t fer you. I gots plans fer you, an’ he don’t fit into ’em. I’d sooner cut you than see you wi’ him.”
“Who...who are you?” she squeaked.
A meaningful chortle was the only answer. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Georgiana!”
Charles! Her heart started beating again. She was on the verge of calling a warning when the voice behind her stopped her.
“Don’t do it, Georgie, gal. You’d be in more trouble th’n me. Keep your trap shut if you knows what’s good fer you. And fer Charlie Hunter. We gots a secret, you an’ me.”
“But—”
The restraining hand left her shoulder and something crackled in the bushes behind her. Torn between tears and hysteria, she shuddered violently just as Charles arrived.
“Georgiana, what’s wrong?”
Keep yer trap shut if ye knows what’s good fer you. And fer Charlie Hunter.
“Just a...a sudden chill.”
He removed his jacket and draped it around her, then took her hand and lifted her to her feet. “Richardson and the others are not far behind. ’Twas just an accidental discharge of fireworks. Nothing to fret about. Come, let’s get you back to the supper box.”
Georgiana glanced over her shoulder as Charles led her away. Was that horrid man still there? Watching? Or had she imagined it all?
* * *
Mistaking her distraction and nervousness from the odd meeting on the stone bench as reluctance to confront Hathaway, Charles had insisted upon dealing with the butler himself when he delivered Georgiana home. Her back against her bedroom door, she waited for the raised voices she knew would be coming.
Charles was slipping quite comfortably into the role of fiancé and future husband. She, however, was having constant misgivings. How would she live with herself if her curse struck him down? And now, more than ever, she feared it would. The incident tonight convinced her of that. Whoever that man was, he had warned her to stay away from Charles. From all the Hunters. What frightened her as much was that he’d known her name. That he had plans for her. Another violent shudder washed through her. Who was he?
Though she’d been warned to stay silent, she feared she knew the outcome if she didn’t. Charles would dig his heels in further and refuse to budge. She had never known a man so persistent. So stubborn. So...so wonderfully protective.
A timid knock at her back startled her. “Madam? I’ve come to turn your bed down.”
She took a deep breath and opened the door enough to admit Clara, who went straight to her bed and began turning down the sheets and fluffing the pillows. “Oh, madam! They say you’ve given Mr. Hathaway the sack! Is that true?” she asked over her shoulder.
Georgiana went to her dressing table and began pulling the pins from her hair. “Yes, Clara. This afternoon. I had hoped he’d be gone by now. Charles is quite unhappy that he is not.”
Clara snorted as she laid out her nightgown. “We gathered as much, missus.”
“We?”
“The others. Cook, Sanders and me. The day help stayed out of his way. Mr. Hathaway has been in a dither all day, he has. Not two words said to any of us. Just storming around and going all about the house. He was in the attic, missus. What would he want in the attic?”
What, indeed? “I do not know, Clara. Perhaps he’d put his valise up there.”
“Hmm” was Clara’s only comment as she came to run the brush through Georgiana’s hair.
The sharp thud of the library door closing made her jump just before voices carried upstairs from the foyer.
“You’ve no right here, Mr. Hunter!” Hathaway’s voice echoed throughout the house. “Who are you to—”
“I am Mrs. Huffington’s fiancé, lest you forget. Sanders! Bring Hathaway’s valise!”
“You think you’re going to get away with this, don’t you?”
“Think? I am certain of it, Hathaway.”
Georgiana stood and glanced at the door. Should she go down? Interfere? Mistaking her intentions, Clara began to unfasten her gown.
The voices grew louder. “You underestimate me, Mr. Hunter. You will be sorry you dealt with me thus—you and that little street urchin who is no better than she ought to be. Why, she thinks she’s mistress of the manor now.”
Street urchin? Heat flooded Georgiana’s cheeks. What must Charles think of her now?
Charles’s voice had gone low and deadly. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll watch what you say about Mrs. Huffington.”
There was an ugly laugh before Hathaway responded. “Even if it’s the truth? Do you really want to be her next victim?”
“That is a vile insinuation and I’d advise you to watch your tongue.”
“You think things are bad for her now. Just see what happens when I’m finished.”
The sound of a scuffle rose to the two women. Clara gasped and covered her mouth. A sharp crack and splintering told the fate of the entry table. The front door rebounded and Clara ran to the window.
“Oh, madam! He’s given Mr. Hathaway the boot! Oh!” Clara covered her mouth to muffle a giggle. “And his satchel after him!”
Georgiana joined her maid at the window to watch as Hathaway gained his feet and slapped the dust from his jacket. Thank heavens it was late and only a single street lamp lit the dim scene below.
Hathaway snatched up his bag and faced the door where Charles must have still been standing. “You’ll regret this, Hunter. Until the day you die. And that won’t be long if you keep company
with her. I know things. Things that could turn this town upside down.”
“If you repeat one thing about Mrs. Huffington, derogatory or otherwise, you’ll answer to me. Do you understand, Hathaway?”
But Hathaway had turned his back and Georgiana couldn’t make out his reply. As the butler faded into the darkness, the front door slammed and she heard Charles’s footsteps take him back to the library. For his coat and hat?
“Oh, madam! That was quite thrilling. What I’d give to have a champion like your Mr. Hunter.”
Her Mr. Hunter. Georgiana sighed. How she wished that were true.
* * *
In a reckless mood, Charles finished his brandy in a single gulp and poured another. No wonder Georgiana hadn’t wanted to deal with that bastard! Who the hell did he think he was, calling Georgiana’s birth into question? Damn near refusing to leave? Making threats?
He examined his skinned knuckles and decided he wouldn’t need more than a good scrub. He actually regretted not doing more damage. How had Georgiana put up with Hathaway for so long?
The hell of it was that he could not even dismiss Hathaway’s threats as idle bluster. He had dealt with enough ne’er-do-wells to recognize them when he saw them. In Georgiana’s present circumstances, he had to allow for the possibility that the former butler was somehow involved with her misfortunes.
He sank into the club chair by the fire and stared into the flames, warming the brandy between his palms. The flickering, ever-changing patterns in the fire usually calmed him, but at the moment all he could think of was how everything had changed since he’d started this investigation. He’d wanted to prove the woman who’d scorned him was guilty of murder, and now he desperately wanted to prove her innocent. He’d wanted to know if she’d had his best friend killed, and now he suspected she was not capable of such duplicity. He’d wanted to confirm that he’d lost nothing all those years ago in Lady Caroline’s parlor, but he’d only confirmed that he’d never stopped loving her. He’d wanted to nurse his mistrust and anger to prevent another disappointment, but he’d begun to trust her and the old bitterness was fading.
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