‘Mrs Challenger.’ He gave a respectful bow of his head and another especially pleased smile. Then he grinned past her, at his friend. ‘’Lo, Fred. Out and about already?’
Mr Challenger shrugged and smiled back, relaxing. ‘Satisfying the curiosity of the ton.’
‘But your bride is curious as well, I see.’ He had noticed her interest in his carriage.
‘Yellow wheels,’ she said in awe, reaching out to touch the rim that stood even taller than her horse.
‘I would settle for nothing less,’ Mr Gregory said.
‘And your horses are a right pair of steppers, aren’t they?’
He nodded. ‘The best I could find at Tattersall’s. I outbid the Regent himself for them.’
Perhaps it was an exaggeration. But they were the sort of cattle fit for royalty. She grinned. ‘How fast do you think they will go?’
‘I have been to Croydon and back in less than two hours.’
Her eyes widened. ‘I would love to take them out some day.’
He laughed. ‘You?’
‘Just a run down the coach road. No more than a couple of miles.’
Beside her, Mr Challenger cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps, when we retire to Richmond in July, I will buy you a pony cart. Once you have learned to manage that, we will see about a larger carriage.’
George turned to look at him, rolling her eyes. ‘Or you could get me a milk wagon pulled by dogs.’ She had been having such a good time talking to Mr Gregory that she had almost forgotten she was married. Leave it to Frederick Challenger to ruin everything. ‘I have been driving my father’s gig in the country since I was twelve. He says I am as good as a boy with the ribbons.’ Or at least he had until he had married Marietta and taken no more notice of anything she had done.
‘Do you seriously think you can handle a curricle?’ Mr Gregory said with admiration of his own.
‘Oliver.’
The signal word of warning from Mr Challenger put him on his guard again and he shook his head in regret. But he was looking at her with speculation, as if wondering just what she might be capable of if she could slip the tight leash Mr Challenger wanted to put on her. ‘Fred will have my hide if anything happens to you.’
She seriously doubted it. She leaned forward and said in a mock whisper that she was sure Mr Challenger could hear, ‘He need not know. It will be our secret.’
‘Georgiana!’ This time she was the one to receive the warning.
For a moment, she debated continuing to argue, then thought the better of it. While it did not matter to her what Mr Challenger thought, she did not think it fair to trap the charming Mr Gregory in the middle of their quarrel. She turned to her husband and smiled. ‘Yes, Frederick. I will behave.’
He should have known better than to believe her. But at the sound of his Christian name, his look of suspicion softened to confusion. Then he snapped back to being his usual difficult self. ‘We will discuss the wisdom of your carriage driving when we are home. At the moment, I wish to speak to Mr Gregory. It concerns the club.’ The look he gave her now indicated that they wished for privacy. He pointed down the path. ‘I see your stepmother just ahead. She will, no doubt, wish to speak to you.’
‘No doubt,’ George snapped, before remembering that she was supposed to be agreeable. Then she turned her horse and set off down the path at a walk so slow that even Mr Challenger could have kept pace with it. Why, of all people, did she have to talk to Marietta?
She had written a letter to Father after breakfast, to assure him that she was well. She had included a few gentle hints about her eagerness to see him soon. It was not like gentlemen to make social calls in the morning the way ladies did. But perhaps he might find a few minutes on his way to and from Westminster to stop for a cup of tea and admire his daughter’s new home.
But she had assumed, since she was marrying and leaving his house for ever, that the Lord would give her at least one day’s respite from the woman who had despised her since she was twelve. She already had to deal with the critical opinions of Mr Challenger. Was it so much to ask that only one person hate her at a time?
Nor did she need to be reminded again that her taste in clothing did not compare to the fashionable set in London. Her husband was wearing a bottle-green coat and immaculate buff britches. His friend, Mr Gregory, wore a red coat and his linen was white as snow. Marietta’s habit was as blue as a summer sky, topped with a high, plumed hat. She was also sitting aside the chestnut gelding that George had been riding less than a week ago.
And George was riding a nag and wearing brown twill. Again. Until now, she had been perfectly satisfied with her habit. It was new this Season, but was far more suitable for a rough country gallop than the parade that Londoners seemed to enjoy. On the sad mare that Challenger had chosen for her, she felt dowdy and out of sorts. Even the liveried groom that rode one pace behind her stepmother dressed in the Grinsted colours of blue and gold was more elegantly attired than she was.
Her husband had said nothing about her choice of clothing when they’d left the house. Perhaps he was waiting until they returned home to inform her that people had been staring at her for all the wrong reasons, when she’d been hoping that they would not notice her at all. If only the blandness of her dress could camouflage her, then maybe Marietta would ride on without noticing her. Or perhaps, now that they were not forced to share a household, her stepmother would simply cut her dead and pretend that they did not know each other.
Instead Marietta turned her horse to watch her approach and called, ‘Georgiana!’, welcoming her with an elegant wave of her hand as if, after years of hatred, she was suddenly overjoyed to see her.
George braced herself for the inevitable argument, before remembering Mr Challenger’s desire that they seem to be a loving couple. For once, she agreed with him. To be anything less than brilliantly happy with the match she had made would give her stepmother one more reason to gloat. ‘Marietta!’ She followed the greeting with her most brilliant smile.
Her stepmother leaned forward, kissing the air in her direction, as if only the inconvenience of the horses kept her from offering a warm, physical greeting. ‘It is such a surprise to see you out and about. And so early.’
‘It is nearly five,’ George replied. ‘The perfect time for a ride.’
‘But on the day after your wedding?’ Marietta’s eyes were wide with mocking amazement. ‘I thought you would be staying at home today.’
‘Is there some rule that requires I stay in the house?’ George asked sweetly, half wondering if it were true.
‘Not a rule, exactly. But I would think, with a husband as handsome as Frederick Challenger, a leisurely day at home would be preferable to riding…on a horse.’
George smiled again to hide her confusion, but gave no answer. What other kind of riding was there?
Now Marietta wore the satisfied smile of a cream-fed cat. ‘Most happy brides would not leave their husband’s side for weeks.’
‘She has not.’ Mr Challenger had ridden up to join them. His stallion stomped impatiently, but the man in the saddle was as suave and pleasant as she could have hoped. ‘It was my suggestion that we come out together. It is a beautiful day and even newlyweds benefit from a brief exposure to sunshine.’
‘And Georgiana is able to sit a horse,’ Marietta said, as if that was in some way unusual.
‘You know I can ride,’ George said, surprised at the odd statement. ‘And it is not at all difficult to sit the tired, grey mare that Mr Challenger has chosen me,’ she added, giving her husband an overly toothy smile.
‘It is, indeed, a very gentle horse,’ he responded, not even looking at her. Instead, he had locked eyes with Marietta.
In response, her stepmother gave a small, knowing nod.
George frowned. It was clear that something had p
assed in the exchange that she had missed. But she would rather die than to admit her ignorance to either of them, so she smiled and nodded as if to confirm what her husband had said.
Marietta sighed, but not with the happy contentment that the news warranted. ‘That is for the best, I suppose. And I assume you are enjoying your marriage?’
‘Of course, we are,’ Mr Challenger replied, his gaze never wavering. ‘Is there a reason we should not be?’
Marietta arched her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Just a few weeks ago, Georgiana showed no interest in matrimony.’ Perhaps Mr Challenger had been right about the need to prevent tattle. Marietta announced the truth with relish, as if she had come to the park for the purpose of telling everyone she knew that their wedding had been some sort of sham.
‘She was not interested in other men because she had already met me,’ Mr Challenger said with such insufferable confidence that George would have corrected him, had he been speaking to anyone else in the world.
Marietta persisted. ‘But before your offer, Georgiana made no effort to hide her dislike of you. In fact, she was most adamant that she would not so much as speak to you, much less dance with you.’
‘Marietta.’ George redoubled her smile and bit back the response she longed to give. Even if it was true, it was rude to throw the facts in Mr Challenger’s face. She had left home, just as her stepmother had wanted, and allowed the woman to win the battle for Father’s whole attention. There was no reason to continue to torment her.
‘Her obvious animosity towards me shows what a clever actress she is,’ her husband said, turning to George with a doting smile. ‘She was worried that, should our mutual affection become common knowledge, you would disapprove.’
‘Disapprove of an earl’s son?’ Marietta replied, suspicious.
‘A second son,’ Mr Challenger reminded her. ‘I am sure Georgiana could have aimed much higher. She is both a wit and a beauty.’
Apparently, he was a good actor as well. He’d given the compliment with such sincerity that George could not help but blush with pleasure. ‘You are too kind, my dear. And a title is nothing compared to good character and good looks.’ Then she smiled, more for herself than either of them, for she had managed to deliver a compliment without a single lie in it.
‘But you might have given some indication of your plans. This marriage was so very sudden.’
‘You said it was time that I was out of the house,’ George countered.
‘But Mr Challenger’s offer was a surprise, all the same,’ Marietta said. ‘After all, you did have an understanding with Sir Nash.’
‘There was no understanding.’ George could feel her limited patience dwindle to nothing.
Marietta sighed as if the news pained her. ‘He has gone from town, you know.’
‘Good riddance.’ Georgiana made no effort to conceal her feelings. If her stepmother wished to goad her to argument, then let it happen. She could not stand Nash Bowles and should not have to pretend to do so, just to keep the peace. Mr Challenger already thought her a foolish child. A tantrum in public would only cement his bad opinion of her, but it could not be helped.
‘What a horrible thing for you to say.’ Marietta said with a moue of displeasure. ‘He was never anything but kind to you and he left London the minute he heard of your engagement. I am sure his heart was broken by the news.’
Before she could reply, Mr Challenger spoke. ‘Then we will do our best to dispel the rumours already spreading about his departure.’
‘Rumours?’ Marietta prided herself on knowing all that was worth knowing in London. But by the look on her face, there was some story she had not heard.
Mr Challenger gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘My friend, Mr Gregory, said when last he saw your cousin, it was not his heart that had been broken.’ Her husband laid a finger at the side of his nose to indicate the location that had been damaged. ‘He was involved in a dispute at the Murder of Crows, the other night. That is a gaming hell in Mayfair,’ he added for George. ‘He was involved in a physical altercation that had something to do with an unpaid debt of his and markers that had not been honoured. They are not the most charitable people there, I fear. It is a very unsavoury place.’
Marietta’s eyes narrowed. ‘I am sure it is nothing more than a coincidence.’
‘Of course,’ Mr Challenger agreed. ‘I am simply repeating what I have heard. I would never share the tale about town. We both know how disturbing it is to spread harmful gossip.’ As they had when making cryptic comments about her horse, her husband and stepmother were talking past her, again. But this exchange was easier to understand. He was warning Marietta to keep her mouth closed about other people’s families if she did not want tales told about hers.
‘Of course,’ Marietta replied, then turned back to Georgiana. ‘I will not delay you further. I am sure you have places to be.’ Then she turned her horse and trotted away from them.
‘Send Father my love,’ George called to the woman’s retreating back, wondering if the message would be relayed. Perhaps, if he knew she was thinking of him, he would at least write to her so she might know that she had not been forgotten after her departure.
‘It appears that you were right in your assumption that Bowles wanted more from you than the obvious.’ Mr Challenger spoke with no preamble, startling her.
She turned to stare at him, surprised to find that he was addressing her without a trace of sarcasm. ‘The obvious?’
‘Your person,’ he said, giving her an appraising look. ‘Surely you knew I was not exaggerating when I remarked on your beauty just now.’
She had not thought his praise was an exaggeration so much as an outright lie. Now, the repeat of it caught her unprepared. ‘Th-thank you.’ The comment was hardly worth stuttering over. She knew that she was pretty and was modest enough not to dwell on the fact. But she had not thought he’d noticed. Then, she remembered their kiss.
He went on, unmoved. ‘It appears he wanted your inheritance, as well. Just as you thought,’ he said. ‘An impending marriage to an heiress was the only thing keeping the debt collectors at bay.’
‘Then I am doubly glad to have disappointed him,’ George said with an evil grin. ‘If ever a man deserved a good thrashing, it was Sir Nash Bowles.’
‘It is most unladylike for you to say so,’ he said with no trace of his usual frown. ‘But I think a lapse in decorum can be forgiven, just this once.’
CHAPTER NINE
All in all, Fred considered it a successful day. They had ridden. He had written letters in the late afternoon and she had gone shopping on Bond Street, like all the other females in London. Dinner had been quiet, but cordial. When he had left the house at eleven, his wife had already retired for the evening behind her locked bedroom door. But tonight, it had not been slammed, nor had flowers or any other objects been thrown at his person.
Now, he sat in his favourite leather armchair in the owners’ suite at Vitium et Virtus, enjoying an excellent brandy and contemplating their meeting with his wife’s stepmother. He had not liked Marietta Knight, even before he had married Georgiana. She always seemed to be sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, gathering and sharing gossip. Far too often, the stories she had spread involved the Challenger family.
Thus, he had taken pains to avoid her and her stepdaughter. But he had begun to wonder if he had been fair in associating Georgiana with the actions of Lady Grimsted.
On their meeting in Hyde Park she had proved what an odious woman she actually was. What sort of mother quizzed her daughter in such detail about the activities of the wedding night? He had not sensed the curiosity to be prurient, so much as it was a test to prove the new bride was either still ignorant of the marital act, or miserable in her choice of partners. It was as if Marietta Knight had been eager to see her daughter unhappy.
Georgiana was still every bit as naïve as she had been when she had got herself into the muddle that had required his proposal. She’d had no idea what the woman was asking her about. It was fortunate that he had been there to guide the conversation. Even more so that he had rented such a tame mare so he might spin the choice to make it seem protective of his wife’s intimate person, as opposed to the display of general caution he had intended.
Lady Grimsted’s continued obsession with Bowles spoke volumes as well. The man was family and deserved some support. But she’d kept hammering away at a union that was impossible now that George had married. She seemed to want Georgiana to argue with her, just to put the girl in a bad light. She had behaved the same way before the wedding, causing a needless delay and then blaming it on the bride.
It made him wonder how many of the faults he had found with the girl before their marriage were the result of her stepmother’s dislike of her. He knew from experience how continual rebellion against family could change the shape of one’s character until one became the very thing one abhorred in others. Before the army, he’d very nearly become the worst sinner in the family. And yet, he’d never stopped blaming the others for their scandalous reputation.
‘Challenger!’ Oliver appeared in the doorway and took the briefest stop at the side table to fill a glass before cuffing the back of Fred’s head as he had done when they were in school together. The gesture was intended as one of bon ami, but tonight it was delivered with such enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the glass from Fred’s hand.
‘Gregory?’ He raised his glass in a toast of greeting, before draining it and setting it aside.
‘I must right a wrong.’ Oliver pulled a chair up beside him and sipped his own drink. ‘I offered you congratulations at your wedding and again today. But I fear they were half-hearted.’
‘In what way?’ He could not remember any hesitation on the part of his friends. Perhaps because he was too absorbed in his own feelings about the event.
Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718) Page 9