“Georgina,” Con said, his voice calm and sure, “if you weren’t a bit afraid to trust again after what happened with Mowbray, I’d think you were a simpleton as well as a glutton for punishment. No one who has endured what you went through could emerge without some sense of skepticism about the people around them. It would be impossible not to.
“But,” he continued, “there is a great deal of difference between skepticism and blind trust. And I do not require your blind trust.”
“How can we have a marriage that will possibly work without trust?” she asked, wanting to believe him but still afraid.
“That’s the thing,” he said. “I said nothing about a lack of trust. Just a lack of blind trust. Neither of us is going to trust the other blindly until we’ve got a few years of acquaintance built up. Until I’ve proven to you that I’m not the kind of man who would turn on you as Mowbray did.”
“And that doesn’t frighten you?” she demanded. “It doesn’t make you question whether we can make it work?”
“Not a bit,” Con said, kissing her on the forehead. “Because I do trust you. And I will spend every moment of the rest of my life proving to you that I deserve your trust.”
Her eyes welled and Georgie buried her face in his neck, breathing in sandalwood and his own special scent. “I don’t think it will take that long,” she said finally. She pulled back a little and kissed him. “It won’t take that long at all.”
“But that won’t stop me from trying,” he said. “Now, I hate to end what might become a most enjoyable interlude. But I suppose we should go back downstairs before the afternoon is gone.”
Georgie sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in coming back up here tonight,” she said coaxingly. “I sincerely doubt that Perdita is as scrupulous as Mr. Lowther’s landlady.”
Con kissed her on the mouth with a resounding smack. “I was afraid you’d never ask,” he said, allowing her to stand and reaching up to straighten his cravat.
“Well, we should probably wait until we are wed—” she began, then stopped herself, realizing he hadn’t actually asked.
“Say no more,” Con said. “I will most assuredly be asking you properly. But now we have a mission we must undertake and I refuse to embark upon a proposal of marriage when there is not a solid block of time set aside for um…” He paused. “Celebration,” he said finally, making Georgie laugh.
“Then I will wait until you deem the time is right,” she said saucily. “Now, you’d better go look in the pier glass for I fear your poor cravat will never be the same.”
Somehow neither of them seemed to mind.
* * *
“Now remember,” Perdita reminded the others as they rode the short distance from Laura Place to Henrietta Street. “We are meant to be on our best aristocratic behavior.” In deference to their mission, she’d chosen one of her most elegant afternoon ensembles, which included an ermine-trimmed cape to guard against the chill in the autumn air. “Do not be swayed by their attempts at toadying. We are here to ensure that they change their minds about Georgina and that means that we can take no quarter. It is do or die! Or something…”
“These are Con’s relations you’re talking about, Perdita,” Georgina reminded her. “And I happen to hold Lady Russell in some affection.”
“Don’t mind me,” Con called to Perdita from his seat beside Georgie. “Though I don’t put it past some of my relations to toady. Cousin Philip especially. But I agree with Georgina. Do not be rough on Lady Russell. She is old and infirm.”
“She is quite mad, isn’t she, your sister, I mean?” Trevor said to Isabella in an undertone. Though he was a duke, he had until recently been a country farmer, so he wasn’t quite used to grand displays of ducal power, the likes of which they now embarked upon.
“Oh, heavens, yes,” Isabella responded, “but she is ours.” She smoothed the edge of his cravat a bit and turned his stickpin to face outward. “I must admit you look rather delicious in all your ducal finery.”
“No flirtation,” Perdita ordered, the ostrich plume in her hat wagging at them like a finger. “We need to keep our wits about us.”
“I dislike calling attention to it,” Archer said with a frown, “but you do realize that we are calling upon the gout-ridden widow of a baron, do you not? I hardly think she will meet us with a volley of cannon fire or whatnot.”
“An excellent point,” Con agreed, offering his friend a tip of the hat. “I can assure you that there is no cannon in Lady Russell’s house at present.”
Perdita scowled. “Are you attempting to dissuade me from doing our level best to protect Georgina’s reputation, Archer? Con? Is that what you’re doing?”
When both men shrugged, Perdita’s brows snapped together. Georgie was reminded of Lady Russell’s spaniel, Percy, when he was deprived of a treat.
“Never mind,” Perdita continued. “I do not wish to hear your argument, Archer. You’ve far too much experience philosophizing for Parliament. If there were a way to get around you, it would have already been done. And so far as I can tell it hasn’t.”
“My dear duchess,” he said with a grin. “I hadn’t realized you’d noticed.” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock humility. “I have been told by some that my philosophizing could convince a robin to hand over the eggs from his nest. Though of course I would never ask such a thing. Poor dear little creatures, birds.”
“I’m feeling bilious,” Isabella said suddenly.
Perdita gasped, her mask of haughtiness slipping. “Oh, no, darling, is it the child?”
Isabella rolled her eyes. “No, it’s this ridiculous conversation. I vow you and Archer are so full of hot air you could make the carriage rise from the earth like a balloon.”
“Oh!” Perdita made a sound of mocked affront. “See if I show you sympathy for your weak stomach again, Sister.”
“You must admit we are a bit bombastic at times,” Archer said with a shrug. “I don’t blame her for complaining.”
“That’s mightily gallant of you, my lord,” Con said, doffing his hat to the other man, who doffed his own hat in return.
“This has to be the most absurdly long carriage ride in the history of man,” Isabella muttered. “Why is it taking so long to go two streets over?”
“I believe I heard the coachman complaining about an overturned cart ahead,” Trevor said helpfully. “I can get out and check if you’d like,” he said to Perdita.
“No.” She waved his offer away. “I suppose we can wait a bit. But it does steal one’s thunder when instead of a swift ride across country you arrive instead at a snail’s pace across macadamized roads.”
It took some minutes more but finally they arrived before the entrance to Lady Russell’s house in Henrietta Street. And they took advantage of all the pomp and circumstance their positions could entail. They descended from the carriage, allowing the footmen to hand the ladies out with the gentlemen following behind.
“I’m nervous,” Georgie said to Con as he handed her up the stairs. “What if your aunt or cousins refuse to see me?”
“They wouldn’t dare with two duchesses, a duke, a duke’s son, and the head of their family escorting you,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I could have overridden my aunt’s orders earlier, of course, but it is technically her house.”
“I know that,” Georgie said, grateful that he’d agreed to come with them at all. He might just as easily cut up rough at Perdita’s plan.
When they handed the butler their cards, he gave a low bow and invited them into the hallway, and had them wait while he sent the cards to his mistress with a footman. In barely enough time for her to have glanced at the cards, the footman returned and the butler requested them to follow him upstairs to the drawing room.
“The Duke and Duchess of Ormond, the young dowager Duchess of Ormond, the Earl of Coniston, Lord Archer Lisle, and Mrs. Mowbray,” the man said in stentorian tones before stepping back to
stand as still as a marble statue next to the doorway.
To Georgina’s amusement, the room’s occupants seemed flummoxed to be receiving a visit from such august personages. Even one of whom who was their own cousin.
“Your graces, my lord,” Lady Russell, said, her gout having improved to such a degree that she was able to stand upon her bothersome foot and offer a low curtsy. “Nephew,” she said, turning to Con. When she reached Georgina, she paused and her hands began to tremble. “Georg … ah, that is, Mrs. Mowbray, what a surprise.”
“Aunt,” Con said firmly, “I hope that you will see fit to welcome Mrs. Mowbray as a guest in this house.”
“It has come to my attention, your ladyship,” Perdita said with a slight inclination of her head, “that my dear friend Georgina was dismissed from this house yesterday for a crime she did not commit.”
Looking from Con to Perdita and at the other august guests in her drawing room, Lady Russell seemed perplexed. Finally she said, “I … I suppose you mean Mrs. Mowbray?” she asked, her voice timid. “For if it is I feel sure there’s been some sort of miscommunication. Mrs. Mowbray was guilty of stealing from me. Indeed, I didn’t believe it at first either. Not until I saw the evidence with my own eyes.”
“I believe I am capable of knowing whether I am or am not being fed a false tale, Lady Russell,” Perdita returned, her voice cool. “And in this case, I am being fed lies, but it is not from Mrs. Mowbray’s protectors. It is instead from the people who wish to do her harm. Perhaps in the name of protecting you.”
Georgie could see that the older woman was taken aback by the accusation, and it took all of her might to keep from going to her former employer at once.
“Might you tell us,” Isabella asked kindly, “how it came to be that Mrs. Mowbray was accused of so heinous a crime? After all, it isn’t every day that a lady is accused of outright theft. Was the item something that you held in great value perhaps?”
“It was a diamond and ruby bracelet that I had only worn a few times,” Lady Russell admitted. “I hadn’t even realized it was gone and I wouldn’t have known if my niece Lydia hadn’t pressed me to let her look through my jewel chest. At first I thought she was joking when she told me it wasn’t there. My next step, of course, was to figure out how the piece had been removed from my locked jewel chest and how this person was able to get into the chest without the key.”
“And did you discover how it was lifted from your jewelry case?” Perdita asked. “Did someone steal the keys perhaps?”
“I never did learn the answer to that question,” the elderly lady said with a shrug. “Before I could ask, my niece Clara came to me and informed me that the diamond and ruby cuff had been found. At first I was elated because I was so worried about losing such a precious item from my jewel collection that I didn’t realize just what the implications of where it was found would be.”
“Curious,” Perdita said, her lips pursed. “Are you saying that you might not have even held Mrs. Mowbray accountable for the appearance of the bracelet in her bedchamber, if you hadn’t been instructed to do so by someone else?”
“I don’t care for your tone, Duchess,” Clara said, patting her aunt on the shoulder. “My aunt just told you that she didn’t think of the implications at first. She said nothing about anyone else persuading her of anything.”
“Remember whom you’re speaking to, Clara,” Con warned. Turning to Georgie, he asked, “Was that the way you remember it happening?”
“Yes,” Georgie said calmly, feeling Clara’s glare on her as if it were a hot brand. “I had just returned from looking for the bracelet in Lady Russell’s dressing room and bedchamber when Mrs. Marks said that it had been found in my bedchamber.”
“I beg your pardon, Lady Clara,” Archer said, his expression one of heartfelt sincerity. “Could you possibly tell us where you were during all of this? It’s just that Mrs. Mowbray has said you were such a friend to her. I wonder if you didn’t perhaps go to visit her rooms while all of this was going on?”
Georgie could see that Clara was torn. On the one hand she was annoyed at being put on the spot, but on the other hand she could not help but preen under the solicitous gaze of Lord Archer. Lady Russell, Georgie noticed, was watching her niece breathlessly.
“I might have done,” Clara said with a slight shrug. “Mrs. Mowbray was searching my aunt’s rooms for the bracelet, and I wanted to ensure that dear Mrs. Mowbray hadn’t unknowingly brought the bracelet into her bedchamber the night my aunt gave her the sapphire and diamond choker.”
“Ah, what’s this?” Isabella asked, leaning forward, her gaze on Lady Clara’s every move. “This is the first I’ve heard of a sapphire and diamond choker. Why would Lady Russell lend such a valuable gift to her companion? Surely that’s better suited to keeping safe within the family?”
“Which is what I thought as well,” Clara said, her appreciation for Isabella’s justification making her puff up with the rightness of it. “Obviously Mrs. Mowbray has been very helpful to my aunt on any number of issues, but surely nothing that warrants her receiving a family heirloom as a gift. I mean, she’s barely known my aunt for six months. She doesn’t deserve to have the sapphires.”
Clara’s dismissal of her made Georgie’s blood boil. She behaved as if Georgie had wheedled the sapphires from Lady Russell. And they weren’t a gift. They were loaned to her for the evening. Though it would seem that Clara hadn’t known that.
“But, Clara,” her aunt said, her gaze troubled, her eyes darting from here to there, unsure of where to look. “I already told you that the sapphires were not entailed. Do you believe I should hold on to the necklace for posterity’s sake? Or perhaps did you wish me to bestow it upon your daughter so that she might have it instead of my dear friend Georgina who has been with me these many months when you and your family haven’t seen fit to visit me once? Is that what you wish?”
“That isn’t what I was saying, Aunt,” Lady Clara said, turning a bit red. “I was merely suggesting that you may have been a bit premature about the sapphires.”
“They are my sapphires to dispose of as I wish,” Lady Russell said, stamping her walking stick upon the floor in a manner that resounded through the room like a bullet. “Really, Clara, I had no idea you were harboring such resentments against Georgina. Next you’ll say that it was you who planted the ruby cuff in her bedchamber.”
“It was not!” Clara said, looking stricken. “I was not pleased that you gave her the sapphires, but that doesn’t mean I would stoop to plant the bracelet in her bedchamber. What I was going to say is that I didn’t see it there.”
Everyone in the room stared at Lady Clara.
“Oh, Clara,” Lady Russell said with a sigh. “How could you?”
“Are you suggesting, Clara,” Con demanded, his voice deceptively calm, “that while Mrs. Mowbray was in Lady Russell’s bedchamber, you searched Mrs. Mowbray’s bedchamber and found nothing—only to be informed some minutes later that the bracelet had been found in Mrs. Mowbray’s bedchamber? And did not see fit to inform the rest of us!”
“Yes,” Clara cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “Yes, that’s precisely what I did, so there is no possible way that Mrs. Mowbray could have stolen the bracelet.”
“I have never been more ashamed of a member of my own family than I am today,” Lady Russell said with tears in her eyes. “And that includes all the terrible times with your uncle, Clara. All that included.”
She held her handkerchief up to her mouth, as if to stop a cry of distress from erupting from her. Unable to let Lady Russell suffer alone, Georgie went to her side and slipped a comforting arm around her. Leading her to a settee, she helped her sit and patted her on the hand as they sat side by side.
“Who was it that first said the bracelet was found in Mrs. Mowbray’s bedchamber?” Isabella asked calmly. “Because it seems to me that it’s that person who is most at fault.” She looked at Lady Clara. “Though there is plenty of blame to attri
bute to you, my lady, given that you allowed an innocent woman to sustain an accusation that might very well have ended any sort of means for her to earn her own living.”
Lady Russell shook her head miserably. “I simply cannot believe it,” she said again. “When I think of how I treated you when you left, Georgina. When I consider how cold I was to you. You, whom I’ve loved like my own daughter. What a wretched fool I’ve been.”
“Do not think of it for another moment, my lady,” Georgie said to the older woman. “You were deceived. Most horribly.”
“I should hate to be the person who did this,” Con said conversationally to the room at large, “if she should fail to admit as much right now.”
“It was I,” Lydia said, standing up from her chair where she’d been watching the rest of the room’s conversation like a cat at a tennis match. “I found the bracelet in Mrs. Mowbray’s bedchamber. Or rather, I put it there.”
“But why?” Clara demanded of her daughter. “I thought you liked Georgina. As much as you can like anyone, that is. Was it because I complained about the sapphires?”
But Lydia shook her head in denial. “No, Mama, it was not your fault. It was mine. I allowed someone to influence me. A friend, when I should have known better than to be such a fool.”
“A friend?” Clara asked, shocked. “Which friend?”
“Well, not a friend exactly,” Lydia said, looking ashamed. “I received a letter.”
“Of course,” Con said with a groan. Turning to Lydia, he asked, “What did it offer you in exchange for framing Georgina for stealing the bracelet?”
“F-five hundred pounds,” Lydia said, her eyes wide. “How did you know?”
“Let’s just say this person has been practicing his penmanship on some other people in Bath this week,” Con said with disgust.
“Does that mean I won’t be getting the five hundred pounds?” Lydia asked, looking disappointed. “He said nothing about telling the truth later, so I thought I’d still be able to collect it.”
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