Why Earls Fall in Love

by Manda Collins

  “Neither Mrs. Mowbray nor myself poisoned Malcolm Lowther, McGilloway,” Con snapped. “If we had you can be damned sure we’d not have left a calling card behind.”

  “Couldn’t hurt to ask,” the investigator said with a shrug. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any idea who our murderous widow might be, have you?”

  “Not offhand,” Con said, though he had a very strong suspicion. He’d like to see what Georgina thought of it before telling McGilloway about it, however.

  “Then I suppose I’d better be getting back to the chase,” McGilloway said, rising from the table. “If you think of anything that might help us find out who killed these coves, the magistrate’s office would be grateful.”

  When he was gone, Con and Archer exchanged a look.

  “It doesn’t seem as if things are becoming any less complicated, does it?” Archer asked with a frown.

  “Not particularly,” Con agreed, “but I have an idea of who the widow might be. I need to confirm it with Georgina first, however.”

  “Then let’s go tell her,” Archer said, pushing back from the table.

  * * *

  “Poisoned?” Georgie exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest. She’d not really known Mr. Lowther, but as it always was with death, she found it difficult to believe that the man she’d spoken with only a few days ago was now dead.

  She, Perdita, Isabella, and the gentlemen were ranged about Perdita’s drawing room in Laura Place, where they’d gathered when Con and Archer had arrived a few minutes ago.

  “Did Mr. McGilloway have any guesses as to who might be responsible?” Georgie asked, a shiver running through her. “You don’t think it might be the person who had him spying on me, do you?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” Con said, resting his booted ankle over his knee. “He was no longer of use to the mastermind and therefore Lowther was expendable.”

  “We’ve got to warn Mary Kendrick,” Georgie said, suddenly realizing that if Lowther was expendable so too was the widow.

  But before she could stand to go get her reticule, Con raised a staying hand. “You might wish to wait before you go to her, Georgina,” he said regretfully. He told them about the sightings of the widow in mourning dress who’d been seen at the lodgings of both Lowther and John Potts.

  “That could be anyone,” Georgina protested. “Any woman might don mourning dress and cover her face with a veil and no one would be able to tell the difference. Just because Mary is a widow does not mean she’s suspect.”

  “But she’s the widow we found with Lowther that evening in Aunt Russell’s back garden,” Con reminded her. “And I didn’t wish to mention it, but McGilloway asked if you might be the widow he’s looking for. So be pleased that Mary Kendrick is also a possibility.”

  “I thought you weren’t overly fond of this Mary Kendrick anyway, Georgie,” Isabella said, tilting her head quizzically. “She sounds like a perfectly awful person. Especially considering that she was trying to frighten you in order to obtain ten thousand pounds. That doesn’t strike me as the act of a friend.”

  “But she apologized for that,” Georgie said firmly. “And I cannot help but sympathize with her situation. She has no widow’s portion and is forced to live with her sister and her family in Westgate Buildings. I can’t help thinking that I might have found myself in a similar situation if I’d been unable to find a position with Lady Russell. At least I have my independence.”

  “Yes, dearest,” Perdita said, patting Georgie on the hand. “But you’ve worked hard for what you have achieved. Despite what that wretched person who planted the bracelet in your chambers did to ruin your reputation. It sounds to me as if Mrs. Kendrick is a woman who simply lets things happen to her.”

  “That’s not fair,” Georgie protested. She knew that it would be difficult for Perdita or Isabella to understand what it was like to return to England after war. To have lost the only community you’d ever known and on top of that dealing with the loss of a husband—who no matter how abusive he was still provided one with a roof over one’s head—was enough to drive one to despair. And for all that Mary had seemed to be blown by every wind, she was also doing the best she could in a difficult situation. She’d stayed with her sister’s family despite knowing that she was resented as another mouth to feed, and despite her brother-in-law’s violence, and she’d survived. Her apology to Georgie might have been too little too late, but at least she’d given it, which was more than Georgie could say for any number of people in her life who had transgressed against her. Aloud she said, “Mary has had a difficult time of it. And yes, she did accept a bribe in order to frighten me. But that doesn’t mean she’s capable of poisoning someone.”

  “If you believe it,” Isabella said, “then I am convinced.”

  “Perhaps we should go call upon her in Westgate Buildings,” Perdita said with a smile.

  Georgie could tell that she was not convinced about Mary’s goodness, but she appreciated her support, nonetheless.

  “I should like that,” she said. “Shall we go this afternoon?”

  “Wait one moment,” Con said, sitting up in his chair. “I don’t like the idea of you three going to Westgate Buildings on your own. It is not the best of neighborhoods. And it’s where a man was just murdered.”

  “Not all people are able to afford the best of neighborhoods,” Georgie said, something like anger tight in her chest. “It’s where I might choose to live if I do not find another position soon. Though I doubt even a milliner’s assistant, which is all I’m qualified for, could afford it there.”

  Feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes, she turned and hurried from the room.

  * * *

  Staring after her, Con cursed. “How the hell did that happen?” he demanded. “I wasn’t being snobbish. I was worried for her safety.”

  “She’s been through quite a bit in the past few days, Con,” Perdita said soothingly. “Think of it. She’s gone from thinking her dead husband was stalking her, to nearly being assaulted at the theater, to seeing a dead body, to being accused of theft. Now a woman she’s known for years is under suspicion of having murdered not one but two men. I think Georgie is entitled to a bit of hysterics.”

  “And truthfully,” Isabella pointed out, “that wasn’t even true hysterics. Though for Georgie it was. She’s so self-contained even her fits are controlled.”

  Con sank miserably into his chair. “How can I make it right? I want to protect her. And I thought she knew that there was no question of her getting another position as a companion. She won’t need to.”

  “Easy there, old man,” Archer said, clasping Con on the shoulder. “It’s not the end of the world. Maybe you should go up and apologize. We’ll wait down here, and when you come down we’ll all set out for Westgate Buildings.”

  “Or better yet,” Isabella said, “we’ll pay a visit to Lady Russell’s. I’ve a mind to play the duchess. Did you bring your coronet, your grace, or did we leave it at home?”

  Leaving them to discuss the matter among themselves, Con headed upstairs to find Georgie.

  Nineteen

  Georgie had indulged herself in a good cry and felt much the better for it. She wasn’t sure just what about the situation regarding Mary had set her off, but she suspected it had more to do with self-pity than concern for her former friend.

  It was just that she’d tried so hard to maintain a positive outlook while the world seemed to be crumbling around her, and the idea that her friends might find Westgate Buildings beneath them had reinforced her fear that she was out of place among them. Neither fish nor fowl, she didn’t belong in the world of Mary Kendrick but she also felt out of place in the world of Isabella, Perdita, and most painful of all, Con. That had been made abundantly clear by how quickly Lady Russell, Clara, and Con’s other cousins had turned on her. It had only taken a few moments for all of Georgie’s hard-won reputation to wither away.

  Rinsing her handkerchief in the basin and press
ing it against her tear-reddened eyes, she was surveying the results in the glass of her dressing table when she heard a tentative knock on the door. Thinking it was Perdita or Isabella she called for them to come in.

  But a masculine cough made her turn to see Con standing in the doorway. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. “Perdita said I might come up and check on you,” he said, looking more uncomfortable than Georgie could ever remember seeing him.

  He walked a bit farther into the room, taking what Georgie thought was an unusual interest in the décor. “It’s a pretty bedchamber,” he said, finally looking from the walls to face her. “It suits you.”

  Georgie looked at his face, which had become so unutterably dear to her in the past week, and wondered how she would possibly give him up when the time came. “I thank you,” she said finally, “but I suspect that you aren’t here to comment upon the décor.”

  Con gave a short laugh. “No, I am not. But I’m damned if I know exactly what I’m meant to say.” He began to pace round the room, picking up a shepherdess figurine from where it was displayed on the mantel and turning it to face the wall. Georgie rose from her seat at the vanity and walked toward the sitting room attached to her chamber. She didn’t need to tell him to follow. He did.

  When she was seated comfortably in a chintz chair, and Con was, if not comfortably seated, at least seated, she said, “I think I should go first.”

  Before he could either agree or object, she said, “You see, I think I overreacted about Westgate Buildings. In fact, I know I did. And I apologize. I realize that you wouldn’t object to our going there out of any sense of superiority. And I should have known that. I’ve perhaps been more affected by what happened at Lady Russell’s than I’ve realized. And I know Perdita and Isabella do not refine upon it, but the truth of the matter is, by birth I am more suited to Westgate Buildings than either Henrietta Street or Laura Place.”

  “But that’s foolishness,” Con said, his mouth twisted with anger. “You are every bit as entitled to live in Henrietta Street or Laura Place as your friends are.”

  Georgie smiled sadly. “Con, you cannot seriously believe that. You are an earl and you belong in the Beau Monde. And the truth of the matter is that I am not. For all that the rest of you seem to ignore it, it is the honest truth. I was born to a military officer and a vicar’s daughter. And they were both of the gentry. Which means that I was never expected to mix with duchesses and earls and the like.”

  He opened his mouth to object again, but Georgie held up a staying hand. “That’s neither here nor there. I simply wanted to let you know that my response was not about what you said, but something that I’d been thinking about myself. That’s all.”

  She smiled, hoping that he would let the matter rest. “Now, was there something you wished to say? I hope we aren’t making the others wait to go to Westgate Buildings. We are still going, are we not?”

  To her surprise he thrust both hands into his hair and pulled. “Oh, dear, you are feeling put out with me, aren’t you?” she asked with trepidation. She had hoped that he’d be understanding about her position on her social standing or lack thereof.

  “Georgina,” he said on a sigh, “I don’t know that put out is the way to describe what I feel for you.”

  Before she could respond, he shook his head. “Do you think I lightly make love to whichever lady just so happens to be available in my aunt’s house?”

  “Well, of course not,” she said, her brow furrowed. “That would be odd, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “It would be odd. It would also be odd if I did whatever I could to help aforementioned random lady find out who was trying to frighten her, kissed her witless in the theater, defended her against an accusation of theft, and in general mooned after her in a fashion that is very nearly overtaking Archer’s mooning over Perdita as the most pathetic display of unrequited affection in the south of England.”

  Her eyes widened. “Well, if you’re so unhappy about it, you can leave off with your foolish pursuit of me with my blessings.”

  “That’s not what I want, or what I meant,” Con said hotly, standing up and approaching her chair. “I only meant to say that I am bloody over the moon for you and I want you to marry me and that’s why I’ve been such a deuced idiot about things and that’s also why I’m trying like the devil to keep you safe from whoever it is who wants you to suffer.” As he spoke, he very handily scooped Georgie up from her chair and, reversing their positions, deposited her upon his lap.

  “Well, I don’t…” she began, but he took advantage of her open mouth to kiss her. Soundly.

  “You’ve been driving me mad,” he said against her mouth, his hand roving down her back to cup her bottom.

  “Not,” she said, pulling back a little to unwrap his cravat, “as mad as you’ve been driving me.”

  “Then,” he said against her chin, and making his way down over her throat, “we should do something about it.”

  “We are,” she said, giving up on the cravat because it was taking too much concentration.

  “Something else,” he said breathlessly as he found a particularly sensitive spot on her collarbone. “Marriage.”

  She stiffened against him. Pushing against him to regain some control, she said, “We can’t marry. Didn’t you hear anything I just said?”

  Clearly he was still muzzy from lust. “Yes, you said we should…” He frowned. “I don’t remember exactly.”

  Pulling away, she tried to get off his lap, but Con’s arms were wrapped around her. “I said that we come from different worlds and that you are from a higher station than mine.”

  Blinking, Con looked more than a little confused. But his eyes narrowed and Georgie knew he understood. “Yes,” he said decisively, “you said that, but I didn’t get to say what I thought about it.”

  “Which is?” Georgie asked, though she had a clue what he’d say.

  “That it doesn’t matter a damned bit.”

  She felt as if she were back in the army camp. “It does matter to me,” she said firmly. “Do you think I wish to spend the rest of my life being condescended to by ladies who are angry with me for having married an eligible earl they were hoping would marry one of their daughters?”

  “That’s not even an actual thing that’s happened to you,” he said with a harassed look. “It’s just something you’ve conjured from your imagination.”

  “It’s something I’ve seen more than once at the charity meetings Perdita and Isabella and I attend. Gentlemen might be more forgiving, but I have my doubts about that as well.”

  “Perhaps that’s true,” he said. “But it won’t all be dealing with those women. They might be upset at first, but ultimately they’ll be forced to realize that if they want your approval—you will be a countess after all—they’ll have to be the ones toadying to you.”

  “Oh, that’s so much better,” Georgie said with a reluctant laugh. She wasn’t purposely trying to find reasons not to marry him. She’d come to the conclusion sometime that night in her bedchamber at Lady Russell’s that she could quite easily spend her life with him. But she was so frightened that he’d marry her in haste and then repent at leisure. It would break her heart to know she’d trapped him into a marriage that would force his peers to shun him.

  “It is better than the scenario you proposed,” he said with a grin.

  He kissed the end of her nose, and then her cheeks and her eyelids. Then, gently, so gently, he kissed her lips.

  “I know this thing between us has happened quickly,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. “Believe me. I know. But I’ve been drawn to you from the first day I met you.”

  “When you were betrothed to Perdita?” she asked, surprised.

  He nodded, looking sheepish. “It’s one of the reasons I wasn’t very upset when she broke things off with me. I had committed myself because as a man of honor it was my duty, but I would always have wondered about what might have been.�
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  She stared at him, tilting her head to look more closely at him. “I would never have guessed it for a minute,” she said with a gasp. “You truly are a romantic, aren’t you?”

  “I like to think I’m a man who knows what he wants,” he said with a look of challenge. “And what I want, is you.”

  She stared into his eyes, which had become so familiar to her in the past days, and she wondered what she had done to deserve the affection of such a good man. She thought about the worst days of her marriage to Robert. And how she’d longed more than anything in the world to escape him somehow and to find a kind and honorable man who would cherish her in a way she suspected Robert was incapable of. Someone she could cherish in return without fear of having her every kindness thrown back in her face as proof of some imagined infraction on her part. And yet, something made her pause.

  Looking down at his shirtfront, unable to meet those oh-so-trusting eyes of his, she said, “I don’t know how I can possibly admit it to you, when you are being so terribly sweet. But I find I cannot go forward in this without telling you the truth.” She swallowed, knowing it might make him change his mind about her. But also realizing she had to say it. “The truth of the matter is,” she said quietly, “that I am afraid.”

  She felt the sure stroke of his hand over her back. “Of what, sweeting?” he asked, his voice just as gentle as she’d known it would be. Making her feel all the more like a coward.

  “I am afraid to risk it,” she said. “I’ve been in this position before. I fell in love with a man, and within a year I was in misery.” She leaned back to look him in the eye. She had thought to see him look offended, but all she saw was patience. And understanding. “I don’t think you are even capable of the sort of violence that Robert used against me,” she said finally. “But when I first married him, I had no notion that he was capable of such a thing either. The naked truth of it is that I don’t trust my own judgment. I mean, look at the way Mary Kendrick fooled me. I want to believe that she’s a good woman who was manipulated into a bad situation, but at the heart of things, part of me believes she’s as guilty as you all think she is.”