The Lady Most Likely...

by Julia Quinn

  Georgina felt such a surge of happiness that she could hardly stop from laughing. “But you must remain seated where Carolyn placed you!”

  He looked down at her and growled. He actually growled, like some sort of dog. “I’ll be in the seat next to you, Georgie.”

  “I—”

  “Or I’ll pluck you out of your seat and make you sit on my lap.”

  “Hugh, that’s absurd,” she protested. “You can’t.”

  “I never take well to that word.” The look in his eyes showed that he meant it. “You can tell Carolyn to switch the seating, so there’s a place next to you, since it looks as if I’ll be even later than usual … or I will compromise you.”

  Her mouth fell open. “And just how do you plan to do that in a crowded dining room?”

  A gleam in his eye made color creep up her neck. “Darling,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the line of her jaw, “I could—nay, I would—compromise you any place you give me permission.”

  “Well, I don’t give permission,” Georgina said weakly.

  “Then I’d have to settle for pulling you into my arms and squealing. Ach, Georgina, I can’t get the feeling of your round bum out of my hand.”

  She laughed. “You wouldn’t dare. And if that’s a Scottish accent you’re trying for, you sound more like a drunken fisherman.”

  He was grinning, and his hands were sliding down her back, down … “But it’s true. I believe you’ve ruined me for …”

  “For what?” she asked, trying to calm her racing pulse. His hands were sliding delightfully, downward.

  “That requires further investigation,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers.

  Chapter 19

  By the time Georgina entered the drawing room, it was almost time to process to supper. She caught Carolyn by the hand, and whispered, “Your brother insists on sitting next to me at the meal.” And, at the surprise in her friend’s face, she added somewhat defensively: “After all, Gwendolyn is now betrothed.”

  “That’s irrelevant,” Carolyn said. “Hugh can’t simply announce that he’d like to change his seat because his neighbor is betrothed. I’ve seated everyone on the basis of precedence precisely so that I needn’t fuss over this sort of demand. I can’t have the whole table peering at Lady Fourviere and Albert Hunt to see if they’re really having an affaire”

  “I didn’t know that!” Georgina said, somewhat diverted. “Isn’t he the brother of a bishop?”

  “Don’t tell anyone, but I had to give them adjoining rooms. So why does Hugh want to sit next to you? Because he’s tired of making small talk to Gwendolyn?”

  “I believe so. He told me that he would create a scene unless he got his way.”

  “I suppose we could do something different tonight. I could make it into a game …” Her voice trailed off. “The more exacting mamas will not approve, Georgie.”

  “Please don’t start anything until Hugh appears,” Georgina said. “DuPreye will snatch me and embarrass his wife.”

  “Poor woman,” Carolyn said. “Not to be cruel, but she must be used to it. I have to say, you look absolutely beautiful. Luscious, in fact.” She narrowed her eyes. “What have you been up to?”

  Georgina felt herself blushing a little. “Nothing!” And then: “Just having fun.”

  “And with whom have you been doing that?” Carolyn demanded. “I’ve been standing here making chatter for over an hour, and I didn’t see you … were you in a corner somewhere? Oh, tell me you weren’t with Geerken? I couldn’t bear it if you marry him.”

  “I wasn’t,” Georgina said. “Don’t be silly. If I marry again, and you know perfectly well that I don’t intend to, I shall make it a prerequisite that the man can count to one hundred.”

  “Hmmm,” Carolyn said, raising an eyebrow. “All right, I suppose I won’t embarrass you by inquiring precisely where my brother comes into your … shall we say … nonmarital interests.”

  “Thank you,” Georgina said, aware at that very moment that Hugh had appeared at her back. She felt it, she knew it, she even smelled him—a wonderful fresh, outdoors smell, like man and soap.

  “Why, there you are!” Carolyn exclaimed. She was laughing up at her older brother, and Georgina could tell that her best friend was jumping to all sorts of rash conclusions.

  “Hello, Caro,” Hugh said, as casually as if he hadn’t put a hand on the small of Georgina’s back.

  His touch burned through the silk of her gown as if he were touching her bare skin. With a quick twist, she moved away. She couldn’t allow him to simply … well, act as if he owned her.

  There was something in his eyes, but he bowed, gravely enough, and kissed her gloved hand. “Lady Georgina,” he said amicably. But he held her hand a trifle too long, and she knew he was inwardly laughing.

  “I’ll just have a word with the butler,” Carolyn said. “I have a wonderful idea.” She trotted away.

  Hugh’s grin made Georgina’s whole body warm and her heart start beating fast.

  Across the room, Carolyn turned from the butler and clapped her hands. “Excuse me,” she called. “I’d like to announce a very special surprise for this evening.”

  The room turned silent, matchmaking mamas regarding their hostess with a faint frown, gentlemen with a bored air, young girls with instant interest.

  “We’re going to play a game,” Carolyn continued, “which will determine seating at supper tonight. The game is one of my favorites from the nursery. Surely you remember Do you love your neighbor?” She waved a hand at the five footmen bustling around the room. “As you can see, the servants are creating two large circles of chairs. Everyone with a January through June birthday shall retire to that part of the room, and those born from July to December shall stay in this part of the room.”

  “I say,” her husband called, “you’ve separated the two of us, love!”

  Carolyn blew Finchley a kiss. “I dine next to you daily,” she said, dimpling. “Does everyone remember the game? Please sit down, alternating by sex. One person shall stand in the middle of the circle. I will begin in that position here, and my brother can take the other group.”

  “Wasn’t it well done of her to remember that our birthdays are in the same month?” Hugh murmured into Georgina’s ear.

  “Hush,” she said, feeling herself turn pink. Hugh was being so obvious, standing next to her, as if—as if—

  She couldn’t follow the thought. Besides, Carolyn was explaining the game.

  “I shall choose a lady and ask, ‘Do you love your neighbor?’ If that person says ‘No,’ I may claim one of the rejected neighbors as my dinner partner. On the other hand, if she does love her neighbor, then he may escort her to supper. The couple retires from the circle, and I shall ask again. The circle will grow ever smaller until we are all paired off. Does that make sense, everyone?”

  There was a hum of excitement and explosions of giggles from the younger girls.

  “I like it,” Hugh said. “Prepare to be claimed, Georgie.”

  She tapped his hand with her fan. “Just because you begin in the middle doesn’t mean that you will necessarily win me. What if I am sitting next to Lord Geerken? He appears to be born in the appropriate time period to join our circle.”

  “I fancy I can manage to win. Now come along like a good girl.”

  “I am not a good girl,” Georgina said, laughing a bit.

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am to learn that,” Hugh said, pausing to look down at her. That look in his eyes … it was indecent! Georgina felt her face growing pink.

  A moment later, Hugh had taken charge of his circle and was ruthlessly shepherding people into seats. Georgina found herself sitting between Captain Oakes and the Earl of Charters. She couldn’t help smiling. Hugh had deliberately placed her between men who had absolutely no interest in her company at the supper table.

  “Now,” Hugh said, looking around the circle. “Is everyone comfortable? Lady Passmore?”

  �
�I think I should be seated next to my daughter,” Lady Passmore said a bit fretfully.

  “Ah, but dinner seating is so rigid,” Hugh said sweetly. “First one sex, then another. Now if your son were here, I would be able to please you. Time to begin.” He turned to Captain Oakes. “Oakes, old man, do you love your neighbors?”

  Captain Oakes looked deliberately at Georgina, to his left, and then Lady Fourviere, to his right, and shook his head dolefully. “As a man of honor,” he said, “I must admit that I do not love my neighbors.”

  Hugh swooped on Georgina before she even took a breath. And he didn’t take her hand, either. He grabbed her—picked her up, and carried her straight out of the circle, to the squeals of scandalized matrons.

  “Remove her chair and Oakes’s,” he said to a footman and, putting Georgina on her feet, turned back to the circle. “Captain, since you displayed yourself to be most unloving, you shall stand in the middle of the circle and ask the question of whomever you please.”

  Georgina watched Oakes turn around slowly, then play the game exactly as Hugh had, asking the gentleman to the right of Lady Kate if he loved his neighbors. There was a moment of hesitation as Lord Geerken apparently considered claiming Kate, but her charming scowl took care of that, and Oakes scooped her up and carried her out of the circle.

  “I trust that no one is planning to pick me up,” the Dowager Countess of Pemsbiddle said in a wry voice.

  “This is not proper,” Lady Nibbleherd said, sending her charge, Emily Mottram, a frown that indicated she should not allow herself to be hoisted in the air by a gentleman.

  “In my case, less scandalous than impossible,” the countess said cheerfully. “My corsets weigh more than Miss Emily does.”

  The conversation at dinner that night was far more boisterous than it had been on previous nights. Who had declared love for whom was, of course, foremost on every mind. Perhaps the most fascinating moment had occurred when there were only a few players left, and Mrs. DuPreye, finding herself next to her husband, announced that she didn’t love her neighbors and pranced off with the curate.

  Georgina was having a wonderful time. Whenever she met Hugh’s eyes, her heart skipped a beat. And each time his leg casually brushed hers under the table, her pulse raced. Especially after it occurred to her that his leg seemed to be jostling hers a good bit of the time. She tried reminding herself that she was a staid widow, but she found herself smiling like a giddy, green girl.

  They talked of this and that and nothing … She found herself telling him about the dolls she made for orphans.

  “So you sew the clothing?” he asked quizzically. “But not the dolls’ bodies.”

  “Exactly. I use rag dolls. At first I tried using dolls with porcelain heads, but we discovered that the dolls were being taken away from the children and sold. So now I begin with a rag doll, but I give each one a really exquisite gown with scraps of silk and lace, real gauze and spangles. It’s so much fun!”

  “Where do you get the fabrics?”

  “Modistes are quite good about saving bits and pieces. I send a servant around to the studios every week or so. Of course, I pay for the scraps; otherwise, they would be sold to a bonnet-maker.”

  He smiled, a lazy sort of smile that warmed her to the bottom of her toes. “One of my clearest memories of you as a child was your attachment to that raggedy doll of yours.”

  “Esmerta,” Georgina said. “I loved Esmerta. I was far more interested in making clothing for her than in sewing samplers.”

  “Do you suppose that you would be a modiste yourself, if you weren’t born a gentlewoman?”

  “Oh, yes. I would have my own studio. I used to dream of it when I was a young girl, before I really understood that ladies—well, that ladies marry.”

  “And did you marry Sorrell because he was so well dressed?” Hugh asked, fiddling with his fork.

  “No.” But she couldn’t make herself say more.

  “You were obviously in love with him. I still remember how your face shone on your wedding day.”

  She smiled faintly. “That’s one reason why I shall not marry again. One can love a person easily enough and still not have the faintest idea who he is.” And then, at his sudden movement, “I don’t mean poor Richard was a monster or anything of the sort!”

  “So what was he, then?” Hugh’s voice was very deep and steady. Georgina felt as if they were in a little shell of their own, as if the chattering voices around them were miles away.

  “He had a wicked sense of humor.” Georgina leaned to the side slightly to allow a footman to take her plate. Her shoulder brushed Hugh’s. “We used to laugh …”

  “That sounds very pleasant.”

  “Yes. Except that I finally noticed that we were always laughing at people. At the way one was dressed, or the ungainly shape of another’s limbs, or the squeal of someone’s laugh.”

  Hugh didn’t say anything, and Georgina didn’t look at him. She just kept going, telling him what she had told no one. “Richard liked to poke fun at people.”

  “Did he poke fun at you?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “But never unkindly. I was—I was an extension of him, you see. He was kind enough to overlook my imperfections unless he was quite cross.”

  Hugh picked up her hand. She had taken off her gloves to eat, so his fingers were strong and warm around hers. “You could never be just a reflection of someone else, Georgie. And I can’t see a single imperfection. Were you happy together?”

  “Yes,” she said, “Of course we were.” But inside, she wasn’t sure, and it showed in her voice. His fingers tightened. “Did you like Richard?” she asked.

  “No,” Hugh said bluntly. “But there’s nothing unexpected in that. I’m the sort of man he loathed. And I …” He hesitated and obviously chose his words carefully. “Sorrell was far more of the gentleman than I am. You would have been a modiste if you hadn’t been born to supposedly better things; I spend my time breaking horses, no matter my birth. There’s many a gentleman who thinks I oughtn’t to be doing it.”

  “You’re not proper,” she agreed. Every time she met his eyes, a little shock went down her spine and weakened her knees. It was the most peculiar thing. She was only talking to Hugh, after all. Hugh, her best friend’s brother. Hugh, who’d been around most of her life.

  Hugh—was just Hugh. Except that his hair kept catching the candlelight and glowing like a brand-new ha’penny. He had the same hair as Carolyn: thick, luscious, brandy-colored hair that fell almost to his shoulders. And his eyes were a beautiful color, brown with dark green, like the thick glass at the bottom of a wine bottle.

  Of course she’d always known that Hugh was handsome. But he wasn’t for her. She’d never even considered someone like him. Instead, her eyes roamed the ballrooms in her debutante year, looking for men who …

  “Perhaps I did look for a gentleman who would understand my interest in clothing,” she admitted. “But what an appallingly foolish reason to fall in love.”

  “Sorrell was remarkably elegant.” Hugh had put her hand down and started peeling a small pear. The long curls fell gently from his fingers.

  “The first time I saw him, he was wearing a black velvet waistcoat studded with pearls.” She looked from Hugh’s fingers to his face and saw that he was trying to control a grin. “I know. He was in a somewhat ostentatious mood, perhaps. But he had exquisite clothing. He had another waistcoat, of sky-blue satin, and he’d wear it with gossamer silk stockings of the same color.”

  “Exquisite,” Hugh said. He had his mouth under control now, and he handed her the pear with a perfectly serious expression. “Are you as fashionable as he?” He peered at her gown. “That’s a quite nice thing you’ve got on.”

  “Thing?” She started to giggle. “Thing?”

  “Gown,” he amended. “I like it.”

  “The sleeves are a little too belled,” she told him. “And see this?” She pointed at the edging of lace around her bodice.
“I would have used pearl embroidery instead of lace. Lace looks a trifle too flimsy with heavy silk.”

  “I like the bodice,” he said, a thread of wolfish amusement running through his voice.

  She followed his gaze and found herself turning pink. The edging of lace did little to cover her breasts, of course. “Really?” she said, throwing him a look from under her lashes. “What do you like about it?”

  He leaned closer, and his leg pressed against hers. “You’re fishing for compliments again.”

  “Yes,” she said shamelessly, and just waited.

  “The way it dips in front. I don’t know the right words, but that gown is made for a man’s admiration.” His voice was a smoky whisper.

  It was a dangerous game. She shouldn’t play it; she shouldn’t even think of such things. But Georgina felt a bit mad, so she gave him a little smile. “It’s such an annoying bodice … so low that I can’t wear a corset.”

  “Ah,” he said. The little sound burned to the bottom of her spine. There was something in his murmur that made her suspect he made just that sound when he was making love to a woman.

  It wasn’t a sound she’d ever heard … but she could imagine it.

  Even the way Hugh looked at her was more intimate than she and Richard had managed to be.

  “What’s the matter?” Hugh asked, dropping his hand under the table where no one could see and twining his fingers through hers.

  She tried for a smile but knew it was bleak, at best. So she returned to clothing. “Richard had marvelous dressing gowns. He liked figured silk, the kind that was too bold to wear in a waistcoat.”

  “Tell me he didn’t enter your chamber merely so that the two of you could sit about and admire his dressing gown.”

  The faint scorn in his voice made her sad, and she pulled her hand from his. “Richard was a good person. He never deliberately hurt anyone. He loved clothing the way—well, the way you love horses.”

  At the head of the table, Carolyn rose. “If the ladies would please join me in the drawing room.”