Again, Sarah-Louise thought of Lump. It cheered her immensely to contemplate the havoc the hound might wreak in a setting such as this. She wished again that Lieutenant Halliday might have come here tonight. He was her only friend in London. Perhaps her only friend anywhere. Sarah-Louise was too shy and tall and gawky to make friends easily, too lacking in the social graces, as her aunt was quick to point out. Now she was a wallflower at her own party. Among this gay and glittering crowd, Sarah-Louise felt very out of place.
Mr. Sutton returned bearing a plate laden with sliced ham, a lobster patty, fruited jelly, and a jam tartlet. He handed it to her. "I am not going to bite you, Miss Inchquist. Pray try not to look at me as if I were the wolf and you the lamb." He sat down beside her, entertained her with a description of Indian marriage rituals.
Sarah-Louise did not think she would care to have her husband-to-be place his foot on top of hers, signifying that he should be the dominant force in their life together. Naturally he would be her lord and master in all things, but it sounded most uncomfortable to have one's foot trod upon. Mr. Sutton went on to explain that all Hindu ceremonies began by invoking the blessing of Lord Ganesha. "Unlike the other Hindu deities, Ganesha has the head of an elephant. His own father axed off his head, and then replaced it with that of the first animal he saw."
Talk of axing heads quite put Sarah-Louise off her food. She poked at the tartlet on her plate. "India," she murmured, "sounds like a very uncivilized sort of p-place."
This was precisely the impression Carlisle wished to give her. "Oh, it is!" he said, and cheerfully downed a forkful of broiled fowl. "Cows are sacred in India, did you know? The cow is considered one of the mothers of mankind. Confound it, don't goggle at me so! I most seriously and solemnly assure you that I do not intend to marry you, Miss Inchquist. However, I don't think we should tell that to your aunt."
Mr. Sutton did not wish to marry her? Had Sarah-Louise heard him right? "Do you mean that, sir?" she asked.
"I promise you, Miss Inchquist, that you need not worry yourself into a fidget on my account. The last thing I wish to acquire is a wife."
Miss Inchquist ruminated over a mouthful of fruited jelly. Mr. Sutton's reluctance was good news. Nonetheless, her Aunt Amice had fallen in love with the idea of a match between them, and Sarah-Louise could not trust that Mr. Sutton would not waver in the face of such stern resolve.
If only he might develop a preference for someone else. "Tell me, Mr. Sutton," said Sarah-Louise. "What is your opinion of Lady Georgiana? She seems to me to be a m-most extraordinary female."
Chapter Seventeen
Lady Georgiana moved through the glittering throng, pausing to speak with acquaintances, exchanging smiles and nods.
As well as Mr. Teasdale, Georgie was also in suspense, although so far as she could tell the tale of her encounter with a rakehell was not yet public knowledge, because she had not yet encountered knowing glances and barbed remarks. Georgie greatly disliked such affairs as Lady Denham's rout, but it had somehow seemed in Andrew's best interests that she attend. Not that Georgie held out much hope for Andrew's tendre, if tendre he had. Miss Inchquist had seemed very taken with the eye-catching gentleman in the absurd cravat.
Carlisle Sutton appeared before her, so suddenly that Georgie jumped. "Lemonade, Lady Georgiana?" he said, and handed her a glass. "I know the situation calls for something stronger. Madeira, perhaps, or claret. In India we add brandy so that the wine may survive the climate. One should have strong spirits to get through so curst dull an affair as this. But I refrained from bringing you strong spirits—and you must thank me for it—because I had a thought for your good name."
Curious that so many gentlemen should be concerned for her good name. "How kind," Georgie murmured and accepted the glass. What would the wicked Magnus Eliot make of this so-boring rout? Thought of Magnus Eliot—and Georgie thought of Magnus Eliot rather more than she wished—recalled a certain missing piece of jewelry. However was the Norwood Emerald to be retrieved? Marigold hadn't two shillings to rub together, and Georgie could no easier lay hands on twenty-five thousand pounds than pigs could sprout wings and levitate. "I confess surprise, Mr. Sutton, that you would lend your presence to such a 'dull affair' as this."
Carlisle, quite naturally, had his own fish to fry. Behind him lay a lifetime's game of snakes and ladders, after all. "I had hoped that I might encounter you," he said, and raised his own glass. "You are looking lovely this evening, Lady Georgiana."
Georgie knew a clanker when she heard one. She looked well enough in a dress of silver-shot gauze with a square, low neck, but she would wager her grand-mama's pearls that Mr. Sutton had not come to this affair to seek her out. "Spare my blushes, sir," she said, and favored him with a smile. "I take that to mean you are tired of making polite conversation with Lady Denham's other guests."
Mr. Sutton was not accustomed to such plain speaking. He had, after all, just spent considerable time with Miss Inchquist. What a timid chit she was. Lady Georgiana, conversely, was An Original. He wondered what she had done to cause Miss Inchquist to hold her in such high esteem.
"I wouldn't give a cuss for the lot of them!" he said cheerfully. "Moreover, you have them all beat to flinders. There! Have I now put you to the blush?"
Georgie sipped her lemonade and wished that it were indeed something stronger. Cordially she responded, "Nothing of the sort. I think you are trying to flummery me, sir. If so, I wish you would continue, for I am enjoying it very well."
Carlisle laughed, causing several heads to turn in their direction, and offered his arm. "Would you favor me with your company, Lady Georgiana? Perhaps you might like to dance. I don't know that I do, especially, but I will go to any lengths to have so lovely a lady on my arm. I do not recommend the supper-room, unless you wish to see the boar's head garnished with aspic jelly, which is enough to put anyone off his feed."
Georgie could not help but appreciate this nonsense. Still, she cast Mr. Sutton a reproachful glance. "I shan't allow you to take a rise out of me, you know."
Mr. Sutton did know it. That was one reason he liked Lady Georgiana so well. "I am teasing you, I admit it," he said as she placed her hand upon his arm. "It is my damnable propensity to become easily bored. I dare not allow myself to give way to ennui. Amice will come after me if I appear neglectful of my duties. You see that I stand in need of rescue, ma'am."
Georgie could imagine no one in less need of rescue than Mr. Sutton. "Piffle!" she retorted. "Unless—am I correct in thinking Lady Denham means you for her niece?"
Carlisle's smile faded. "Exactly so. Witness me horrified at the suggestion. Amice is a very determined woman. I may have to run away."
Georgie chucked at this absurdity. "You are joking, I think." Best for Marigold's dilemma if Mr. Sutton did take to his heels. Perhaps she should encourage him. "Although I can see that running away would perhaps be the simplest solution to your difficulties."
Mr. Sutton had no intention of going anywhere without the Norwood Emerald. He glanced at his companion's beautiful profile, and repeated to her the tale of Lord Ganesha's elephant head, and then mentioned the sacred cow. Unlike Miss Inchquist, Lady Georgiana laughed.
Damned if he didn't like Lady Georgiana. It was too bad. "How long have you known Warwick?" Carlisle asked.
Here was the real reason Mr. Sutton had sought her out, despite his profuse compliments. Georgie cast him a searching glance. "I have known Garth since I was a girl. Our family properties in Cornwall marched alongside his. My papa sold the land when I was perhaps fourteen, and I did not see Garth again until some years later in London." She looked rueful. "Shortly before he met Catherine. It was a case of love at first sight. Catherine had that effect on many gentlemen."
One puzzle was answered. Lady Georgiana had clearly been smitten with Warwick at a young age. Carlisle might have thought the gentleman a fool to overlook her, had he not himself experienced a similar reaction to Catherine. Fortunately, he had not been so be
sotted as to wish to marry the wench. Not that he could have married her, since she'd already been married to Warwick. Their relationship had been passionate, and brief, and ended before Catherine could play him for the fool. Carlisle probably remembered the lady with more fondness than she remembered him, if she remembered him at all. "The emotion that your cousin inspired in gentlemen was not exactly love, Lady Georgiana, although I hesitate to give it a name, lest I cause offense."
Here was a different view of Catherine, as well as of Mr. Sutton, because the gentleman gave no indication of caring who misliked what he said. Mr. Sutton appeared to have known her cousin well.
Georgie didn't think she cared to know how well. "You are very kind to spare my spinster sensibilities," she said ironically. "Have you had any success in tracking down your uncle's missing wife?"
Carlisle had not, nor had Mr. Brown, who grew more nervous as each fruitless day passed. That young man seemed to fear that, did he fail, his employer would employ some exotic form of Indian revenge. Carlisle had not disabused him of the notion. "Have you ever been on a tiger hunt, Lady Georgiana?" he asked.
Georgia choked on her lemonade, recovered, cast him a reproachful glance. "Mr. Sutton, you are in a very teasing mood. You surely know that I have not."
Certainly Carlisle knew that Lady Georgiana had not been on a tiger hunt. However, he liked to hear her laugh. For Georgie's entertainment, he described the native beaters that moved through the bushes, flushing out deer and wild pigs and birds, the huntsmen riding on the backs of elephants in shooting howdahs, canvas boxes high enough for a grown man to stand and take aim. Elephants were essential in a countryside where tall grasses and dense, low shrubbery made it all but impossible for the huntsmen to see their targets. "There is nothing like the sound of a huge elephant flapping its huge ears. The elephant keeper, the mahout, perches on the beast's neck and strokes it, or prods it, with a steel prong. The beast is prone to uproot and eat nigh everything in its path."
Georgie sighed. "I think I should like to see an elephant. From a safe distance, that is!"
Carlisle wished that he might see an elephant himself. He suffered a brief pang of homesickness for the sights and smells of India. Bullocks with vermillion-painted horns. Dancing girls in billowing skirts. Camel-herders and village women with veiled faces. He described to the fascinated Lady Georgiana a contest between two elephants, as staged by an Indian prince for his guests, of whom Carlisle had been one. The visitors arrived at a verandah overlooking an area within a bamboo palisade, from there to observe the hostilities. The war elephants had been fed on a highly spiced diet that kept them in a permanently ill humor, which then reached a pitch of fury when their favorite females were sent into the ring. Enraged bellows and grunts and roars of pain, the clash of tusks engaged— In the end, the beasts could only be separated by fireworks thrown between them. "Indians believe that the world rests on the back of either a tortoise or a serpent," Carlisle added as an afterthought.
"Gracious!" marveled Georgie. "What an interesting life you have led. And how very dull you must find us here. I wonder that you do not give up your search for whatever it is you search for, and go back home."
Carlisle wondered about that, also. At this very moment he could be wearing a loose robe and smoking a hookah while his well-born Sikh mistress fanned him with a punkah. Somehow he doubted that lady would be waiting for him when he finally returned home. Not that it would be difficult to replace her. Unlike their English counterparts, Indian courtesans understood the nature of pleasure and how it could be achieved.
Carlisle thought of his uncle's wife, and wondered just how much Miss Macclesfield knew of pleasure and its achievement. "My dear Lady Georgiana," he said, somewhat obscurely, "it is never wise to bet against a dark horse." The din around them lessened, then rose again. "Ah. Unless I miss my guess, your friend Warwick has just arrived."
Chapter Eighteen
Lord Warwick spent a few moments in conversation with his befrilled and beflowered hostess, conversation which left him none the wiser as to why he had been invited to this function, and further puzzled as to why Lady Denham was at such pains to tell him that Brummell had put in an appearance earlier. Garth had no notion why the Beau should honor so insipid an affair with his presence, nor why he himself should care. Garth's own reasons for attending were simple. He was curious.
Through the Public Rooms he wandered, exchanging a word of greeting, ignoring a snub. He inspected the cold collation, and cast an ironic eye at the boar's head; then he accepted a glass of punch, pausing briefly to observe a game of whist before moving through the crowd to the chamber where the orchestra played. Not that Garth had any especial interest in the dancers. He meant only to make a polite perambulation of the premises, and afterward to take his leave. Then he saw Georgie approaching him through the crowd.
Georgie at a function such as this? Impossible. Lord Warwick frowned at his glass of punch, which he had not thought so strong.
If a vision, she was most corporeal. Georgie tucked her hand through his arm. "Garth!" she said brightly. "Your sense of timing is superb. I believe I have promised you a dance."
Garth realized that the orchestra had indeed struck up a new tune. He transferred his frown from his punch glass to Georgie's face. "Pray try and not look so forbidding!" she said, quietly. "Consider this: if you do not dance with me, you truly will land me in the scandal-broth."
What she said was true. Reluctantly, Garth led Georgie out onto the dance floor. Apparently she was no longer angry with him, for which he must be glad. However, she had acted precisely as he wished she wouldn't, and publicly allied herself with him, and that caused him unease. "Do you realize what you have just done?"
"I do," retorted Georgie. "And I promise that if you dare once more to lecture me that I shall box your ears right here in the middle of the dance floor. That would give the busybodies something to chew over their chocolate cups, don't you think?"
Georgie thought Miss Halliday had a nice way of turning a phrase. Reluctantly, he smiled. "Much better!" Georgie approved. "Shall we cry pax, my lord?"
"Considering that you have put your own reputation on the line by championing me, it would be churlish in me to refuse." Several interested observers would later remark upon the particular energy with which Lord Warwick twirled his partner, and dipped her, and swung her around. "It is your own cousin I am said to have disposed of, after all."
Georgie wished her cousin to perdition. Providing that Catherine was not already there. "I know what it is. You do not wish to be in my debt. I cannot blame you! There is no telling when I may call in my vowels."
"Cut line, my girl!" Garth's smile was genuine now. "Pax it is then, Georgie. At least until I again manage to set up your back. How does the lovely Mrs. Smith, by the bye?"
Mention of her houseguest caused Georgie's own spirits to falter. "It has occurred to Marigold that you are companions in misfortune. She was asking about the size of your pocketbook. I told her you are a pauper, but I doubt she believed me. Well you may look horrified! Marigold has decided that you are very handsome. Definitely I shall take up seabathing. It is said to be most beneficial to the nerves."
With great effort, Lord Warwick refrained from inquiring into the particulars of how Mrs. Smith was worrying his companion to death. Not that Georgie looked beset. Garth did not know when he had seen anything so wondrous as Lady Georgiana in her silver-shot dress, her hair arranged in intricate coils and adorned with pearls. "I personally find my nerves most agreeably affected by early-morning strolls along the seashore," he remarked.
"The seashore is very nice," agreed Georgie. "But there is not one handy, and I have grown too warm with the exertion of the dance. I do not know when I have more enjoyed myself. No, I do not require a lemonade. Pray escort me outside. Do not argue! I might still fly into the boughs. Heaven knows I have seen Marigold do so often enough to have got the hang of it."
Mrs. Smith was proving a most unfortunate in
fluence. Garth did not demur, but escorted Georgie into a small but elegant flower garden embellished with classical statuary and narrow, flagged paths.
Lord Warwick and Miss Halliday were not the only of Lady Denham's guests to escape the crush in search of cooler air, although no other departure would arouse such interest, or cause so many people to approach their hostess with scurrilous tidbits of gossip about the viper she had clutched all unconscious to her meager chest. Garth had a notion of the tittle-tattle that flourished behind them. "Now," he said, "would you please tell me just what you are about?"
Georgie had already sat on a rakehell's lap. It would hardly corrupt her further to stroll around a garden with Lord Warwick. "Are you still nattering about my reputation? We are hardly unchaperoned."
Silently, Lord Warwick escorted her into a dark and relatively secluded corner of the garden. So much, reflected Georgie, for his care what people thought. He turned to face her. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.
Georgie looked at him. Garth made a very noble appearance in the black-and-white evening attire made popular by Brummell. Briefly, she was tempted to make a flippant remark.
As it turned out, she could not. "Because I cannot help myself," she said quietly. "You know that. You have always known that. I am sorry for what I said to you the other day. It was most unfair."
Her hair had begun to curl around her face in the cool night air. Garth brushed an errant ringlet off her forehead. "I have no right to even speak with you. I was such a fool. I don't know why things happened as they did."
"I do," Georgie said wryly. "Catherine set her cap at you. There was no resisting Catherine when she wanted something—or someone. I saw it happen time and again." She looked up at him. "What do you truly think happened to Catherine?"
Even in the shadows, Georgie could see the grimness of his expression. For a moment, she thought he would not reply. "I think that my wife developed a partiality for someone else, and ran off with him," Garth said, at last. "But I do not know the identity of the fortunate—or unfortunate!—gentleman, and I have not been able to trace her one step."
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