And to Georgie’s disappointment, he was right. Allowing him to lead her away, she realized, however, that she felt safer than she had in a long while. So, perhaps the magic wasn’t quite destroyed after all.
Four
By the time the group returned to Henrietta Street it was well past time for tea, and pleading a headache, Georgina went to bed early. There was no sign of the man in the back garden, and when she awoke the next morning, she was refreshed and ready to start the day.
Concerned that her time away the day before might have left Lady Russell without entertainment, Georgie hurried up the stairs after breakfast to check on the older woman.
Her employer, however, had not been bored in the least by Georgie’s absence. When she reached Lady Russell’s sitting room, Georgie found her engaged in a lively debate with her elderly sisters while they all three worked on needlepoint. Since Georgie had never been very good at needlework, she was thankful that it was her mistress’s sisters and not herself who had been co-opted into the activity.
“So you see, I have survived quite well without you, my dear,” Lady Russell said, looking much better than she had in weeks despite the fact that her gout-ridden foot was still propped on a stool. “Go off and enjoy yourself while my sisters are here. I vow, when I was your age I could think of nothing more dull than to be confined in a drawing room with three elderly ladies doing needlepoint.”
“I am hardly a debutante, Lady Russell,” Georgie argued, appreciating the old woman’s kindness but not wishing to shirk her duties. “I am quite content to keep you company while you ladies chat and sew. Even if I am not any good at it. The sewing, I mean.”
“It’s not that she wishes to make you feel unwelcome, Mrs. Mowbray,” said Lady Ayers-Ricker, who shared her sister’s tendency to forthrightness, “but there are certain matters we wish to discuss that might be … unsuitable for you to hear.”
Unsuitable? Georgie tried to figure out what Lady Ayers-Ricker meant. Then realization dawned. “Oh, do you mean childbirth and things like that? I assure you, I am quite familiar with such things. Life following the army quite relieved me of any squeamishness I might have had on that score a long time ago.”
“Not childbirth, Georgina,” Lady Russell said with a glare. “Other things.”
Georgie stared at the older woman, trying to figure out what could possibly be more squeamish-making than childbirth.
Then it dawned on her in a horrible mental image that she would not wish upon her worst enemy.
All three sisters saw her expression and laughed. Georgie felt her face redden.
“I see now you understand,” Lady Slade, the third and youngest of the Callow sisters said with a grin. “It never fails to amaze me how shocked young people can be to learn that they were not the ones to discover lovemaking. It’s as if they think they all sprang forth fully grown from the cabbage patch.”
“In that case,” Georgie said, ignoring the chuckles of the three elderly ladies, “I will leave you all to your sewing and perhaps visit the lending library. Have you need of anything while I am there?”
“Not at all, my dear,” Lady Russell said with a wave of her hand. “Be off with you. And for goodness’ sake, enjoy yourself. There are any number of amusements here in Bath if you would but allow yourself to partake.”
Shutting the door behind her, Georgie hurried away as if pursued by the hounds of hell. How was she supposed to guess that three elderly ladies would still be interested in discussing such things? She was not yet thirty and had no desire to discuss the matter. With anyone. Much less other ladies.
She’d never told another soul—not even Isabella and Perdita—but she didn’t see what all the fuss was about when it came to sexual congress. When she’d agreed to marry Robert she’d been eager enough for his kisses. But she’d soon learned that the act itself left her feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable. There had been times when she thought there might be something more to it. But soon enough she’d realized she was mistaken. And whatever she’d been expecting was not going to happen, as if she’d started on the road to some fantastic destination, but had been forced to stop halfway there. But since Robert seemed to enjoy it, and it was one of the few times that he really seemed pleased with her, she submitted to it when the mood came over him. For the first few years, at least.
She never explained her puzzlement to her husband. He already found fault with her every decision and action. She could only imagine how he’d have reacted to hearing she found his lovemaking to be less than satisfactory. And after a while, he stopped coming to her bed at all, so it became a moot point.
Putting Robert from her mind, Georgie hurried into her bedchamber to prepare for her outing.
Her reticule was tucked away in a drawer of the desk she used for a dressing table, and Georgie sat down at the table for a moment to remove her purse as well so that she could count out the money she’d need.
She was dropping the coins into the drawstring bag on her wrist when a flash of light caught her eye from the window. Curious, she rose and looked out into the garden below where she saw Con kneeling in the spot where she’d seen the apparition of Robert the night before last. In his hand, he held some sort of shiny object that she presumed had caused the flash that caught her eye.
Throwing up the sash, she saw him look up and shield his eyes against the sun. Recognition dawned on his face and he gestured for her to come down.
Curious, Georgie locked her dressing table and headed downstairs to meet Con in the garden.
* * *
While Georgie was upstairs having her horizons expanded by the Callow sisters, Con had retrieved his spyglass and a small notebook from his bedchamber and set out to investigate the spot where Georgie had seen her late husband two evenings before.
The garden was well tended, if small. It was laid out in quadrants. The first two, closest to the house, were taken up by a kitchen garden, near the kitchen door, and a pretty little flower bed near the French doors off the drawing room. The left side was bisected from the right by a pretty stone pathway that curved through the greenery like a country path. The far border nearest the alleyway was marked by a curved row of shrubbery that shielded the view of the yard itself from the path running behind the row of houses. There was, however, a gate in the corner, and it was here that Georgie had seen her husband.
Fortunately, the ground on either side of the stone walk that led to the gate was bereft of any grasses or vegetation of any kind. And at some point, the man Georgina saw must have felt it necessary to step off the stone path, for it was here that Con found the clear, strong impression of a man’s boot. Curious as to what sort of view a man might have from this vantage point, Con retrieved his spyglass from inside his coat and put it to his eye, scanning the back of his aunt’s house until he saw Georgie’s room, which was the second from the left. He could even see her there now, her head bent over some task. He’d best warn her to move whatever bit of furniture she was using away from the window.
His glass must have caught her attention, however, for she looked up and her eyes narrowed as she saw him. Realizing it would be easier to explain himself in person instead of from his current position three stories below her, he gestured for her to come down.
While he waited for Georgie to appear, Con reflected on the various reasons why someone might wish to make Georgie think that her husband was still alive. When she’d admitted to him what she’d seen he’d been inclined to suspect her of exaggerating. After all, Robert Mowbray was rumored to have been a bit of a brute, so it was reasonable to assume that she would fear that somehow he’d manage to come back. Or worse, that he’d faked his death in some sort of trick.
But yesterday at the ruins he’d seen the man who seemed to be following Georgie and the fellow had the same light brown hair and build that Georgie had described. Never having met the man himself, of course, Con had no idea whether the man resembled Robert Mowbray, but he believed that Georgie thought so.
/> As he stared moodily at the impression in the soil, he heard the sound of Georgie’s slippers on the stone walk. Standing, he brushed his hands off on his breeches and looked up as she approached.
“I somehow hadn’t expected you to begin investigating so soon,” she said by way of greeting.
“I would have begun last night, but my aunt demanded my attention,” Con said with a raised brow.
“I am sorry,” Georgie said, her eyes troubled. “I did have a headache last night, but I should have been there to entertain her.”
“Easy,” Con said with a smile. “I was merely teasing you. Of course you are allowed an evening off. Especially when Aunt Russell’s house is filled to the rafters with relatives who should spend more time with her.”
“Oh.” Georgina blushed. “In that case, thank you.
“Now,” she said, indicating the area around them with a wave of her hands. “What are you doing here? Investigating the man I saw from my bedchamber?”
Con nodded. “Look at this,” he said, gesturing for her to squat next to him on the path as he showed her the footprint.
“There is an easy view of your bedchamber window from here,” he said, pointing up toward her room. “And after seeing that fellow following you at the ruins, I am convinced that someone wishes you to think your husband is alive, or haunting you at the very least.”
“But why would someone do this?” she demanded with a puzzled frown. “I admit that I was rather…” She paused and Con could see that it was difficult for her to force out the words. He tensed as he guessed what would come next. “I was frightened of him. There at the last, I mean.”
“I know it is none of my business,” Con said quietly, “but could you tell me why he frightened you? I only ask because it might shed some light on why someone would wish to make you think him alive.”
Georgina stood but Con remained where he was, close to the ground, instinct telling him that she needed to feel superior to him in this small way in order to tell her story. She rubbed her palms on her gown—she must have removed her gloves while she was in her bedchamber—and swallowed.
“The truth of the matter, my lord,” she said, her voice strong despite her obvious nerves, “is that my husband was a brute. He had a temper and he didn’t mind venting his spleen using his fists or his belt or anything that came in handy. It didn’t much matter what I did to annoy him, he dispensed punishment for small infractions with as much force as for large ones. Though I was never quite sure what would set him off from day to day.”
Though he’d suspected something along these lines, Con couldn’t help but grind his teeth at her words. He knew that such men existed. He doubtless played cards with them at Whites or fought with them at Jackson’s. But he found it difficult to believe that someone as measured as Georgina would fall prey to one.
“Why did you marry him?” he asked, unable to stop himself from voicing the question aloud. “Why put yourself in the hands of a man like that? You grew up following the drum. Surely your father or the other women following their regiment could have warned you.”
Georgina’s laugh was bitter. “Yes, you would think that a girl raised with the army as I was would have noticed the signs, wouldn’t you? But you’d be wrong.
“Robert was a master at hiding the truth of his real nature from everyone,” she went on. “Except of course the men he killed in battle. It was there that he was able to truly release whatever monster lurked beneath his mask of civility. When he was courting me, I thought he was the most wonderful man in the world. My father did warn me, but I thought I knew better. I know now that Papa must have heard some rumors among the camp followers or the other men. But when it seemed as if Papa would raise objections, Robert made sure to compromise me so that there would be no question of our not marrying.”
“Not that you are not beautiful, but why was he so determined to have you?” Con asked, puzzled. “Wouldn’t he have chosen someone who was without family?”
“I received a quite sizable inheritance from my maternal grandmother,” Georgie said bitterly. “He needed funds to pay his gaming debts. And I was foolish enough to believe that he wanted me because he loved me.”
“But you are employed as my aunt’s companion,” Con returned. “I presume that he spent the inheritance?”
“Every cent,” Georgina said with a twisted smile. “Before the first year of our marriage had ended. Then of course he was angry with me for not being a bigger heiress so that he could have had more money to gamble with.”
Con was silent for a few moments while he thought how pleasant it would be to pummel the late Colonel Robert Mowbray in the face. Repeatedly.
“How did he die?” he finally asked, standing and brushing the soil from his hands.
“Gloriously in battle,” Georgie said with a shake of her head. “It is inconceivable to me how a man who was so miserable a husband could be so wonderful a soldier. He was one of the first to fall at Waterloo and he died honorably. When I first returned to England I began to keep count of just how many people expressed their condolences to me in the same breath as they told me how proud I must be.
“I lost count at one hundred twenty-seven,” she said wryly. “I said nothing, of course. It would be cruel to disabuse all these well-meaning souls of their notions of just what manner of man may be called hero.”
“You are far stronger than many would be in that situation,” Con said with feeling. He’d never really considered how difficult it must be to be a woman. Forced to obey whatever male figure fate or her own blind choosing bestowed upon her as a guardian. Unable to fight back should he choose to strike her, or worse. He remembered what it had been like to be a child, but he’d had benevolent family to look after him. Georgina had no one to look after her.
“I did what I had to do,” she responded with a shrug. “Just once, though, I’d like for every man to spend a day as a woman. So that he could see what it’s like.”
“I do not think you would like to see me as a woman,” Con said with a speaking look. “Can you imagine?”
Though she’d meant her words in all seriousness, Georgie began to laugh. “You are correct. I should not like to see you as a woman,” she said, grinning. “You are quite a handsome man, but as a woman? I fear you would have some difficulty procuring suitors.”
Glad to see the tense expression she’d worn while recounting her story erased, Con raised a sardonic brow. “Do you mean that ladies over six feet tall with enormous feet and the need to shave twice a day aren’t in demand? Mrs. Mowbray, you shock me!”
“It’s true, I’m afraid. Even I am not in demand and I have nothing like your impediments to beauty,” she said with a smile.
“If by that you mean to say that you are lovely despite your hideous gowns and insistence upon wearing your hair in those tight coils,” he said, without thinking, “then you are correct.”
At his words, Georgina’s eyes widened and a blush crept into her cheeks. Realizing his mistake, Con mentally smacked himself on the back of the head. “I apologize, Mrs. Mowbray. I didn’t mean to be so ungallant. Of course your gowns are not—”
“I hope you will not say that my gowns aren’t hideous and my hair is not unflattering, my lord,” she said with a rueful smile, “because we both know that you would be lying.”
Seeing the sincerity in her eyes, Con wished for a large hole to appear in the ground beneath his feet and swallow him whole.
“Besides,” Georgina continued, “I intended them to be. So you are voicing only the opinion for which I devoutly wished.”
Her words penetrated his wall of self-loathing well enough to reach his brain. “What do you mean, ‘devoutly wished’?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “Do you mean to tell me that you wish for people to find your gowns and hair unattractive?”
“Precisely,” she said, as if rewarding a particularly slow student. “I dress so that no one will notice me.”
“Good God, why?” he asked, genuinel
y puzzled. “Why would someone as lovely as you are do such a thing?”
At his compliment, she blushed. “I thank you for the kind words, but you must know that it’s not true. It’s just that I seem lovely in contrast to my terrible clothes and hair. That’s all.”
Con reached out and grasped her by the chin so that he could look into her eyes. “Let us settle one fiction now, Georgina,” he said firmly. “In a pretty gown, in a terrible gown, in a lovely hairstyle, in a hideous hairstyle, you are a stunning woman. And no amount of downplaying your looks will make that untrue.”
He saw something flicker in her eyes at his words, some realization that there was truth in what he said. At least that’s what he hoped. If she did not believe him, then he wasn’t sure how else to show her the truth of what he said aside from demonstrating it with his body. And that was far more improper than he was prepared to embark upon in his aunt’s back garden.
“I…” She blinked, and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. Pulling away from his hand, she took a step back. Con felt bereft at the loss of contact. “I thank you, my lord,” she continued. “I do not for a moment believe you, but I thank you all the same.”
Realizing that he would have to continue this conversation later, Con gave a brisk nod. “Now, about this fellow last night,” he said, glancing around at the ground to give her time to recover her composure. “He was definitely made of flesh and blood. Look here again at the footprints he left.”
“So it really was just a trick of the light that made him seem ethereal?” Georgie said, sounding relieved. Con cursed himself for a fool for making her reveal so much about her husband. Now that he knew just how awful Mowbray had been, he didn’t for a moment think that Georgie would have conjured him out of hope. Fear, perhaps, but she didn’t strike him as the overly fanciful type to see ghosts and goblins in every dark shadow.
“Undoubtedly,” he said. “Just as the man we saw at the ruins today.”
Why Earls Fall in Love Page 6