An Elegant Façade (Hawthorne House Book #2)

by Kristi Ann Hunter

  So here Georgina was, being pulled into a conversation about a popular book. Sweat was beginning to dampen her lower back.

  Lady Theodora frowned as she rethought her opinion. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh didn’t seem to move about much, did she?”

  “No. Where I believed Lizzie was cork-brained for turning down Mr. Darcy the first time.” Georgina fluttered the fan a little harder as Trent and Colin entered the room well within conversing distance. Did the man always have to look so fresh and rested after driving across the country all night?

  She would ignore them. Maybe they wouldn’t come greet her. She and Colin—Mr. McCrae—had to become nothing more than nodding acquaintances again. She devoted herself back to the conversation. “He was of considerable better society than she. Refusing his offer was unthinkable.”

  Jane sighed, a dreamy look on her face as she stared off at nothing. “But what about love?”

  Georgina scoffed to hide her inner cringe. Only people without flaws and secrets could afford to hold out for love. And for Jane to be simpering over the feeling less than a day after it nearly ruined her was enough to make Georgina declare the entire emotion absurd. “What of it? Consider how much time you’ll spend with your husband versus the amount of time you’ll spend doing other things related to your station in life.”

  Jane’s fan fell limp as her eyes widened. “I never thought about that.”

  Given her ridiculous notion to run off with Lord Howard, Jane’s lack of thought was more than obvious. Georgina bit her tongue to keep the retort inside. Lady Jane was personable and beautiful enough to provide competition if she ever set her mind to it. Her general empty-headedness wouldn’t deter anyone.

  Many might think it an asset. She’d be able to have children, run the house, and attend social gatherings without putting too many demands on her husband.

  She could even handle her own correspondence.

  The unfairness of it all made beads of perspiration break out on Georgina’s chest and neck. She flicked her fan a bit faster. Why was it so infernally hot in this room?

  Lady Theodora looked around the room at the conversing groups of London’s elite. “Perhaps I should rethink some things.” Her eyes lit on the two men talking quietly to the right of the trio of ladies. She pitched her voice a little louder. “Good evening, Lord Trent and um . . . Good evening.”

  Trent and Mr. McCrae turned to the ladies, smiles at the ready. Trent bowed and greeted the group.

  Georgina wanted to smack the coquettish smiles off of her companions’ faces. She supposed Trent was a worthy suitor, even as a second son. But he was also her brother and had taken to spending entirely too much time with the man who could ruin her life. She refused to think kindly of him at the moment.

  Trent gave Georgina a hard look, reminding her of her manners. One more sin to lay at Mr. McCrae’s door. Georgina hadn’t forgotten a social nicety since she was seven years old. “May I present Mr. McCrae? Mr. McCrae, this is Lady Jane and Lady Theodora.”

  Bows and pleasantries were exchanged, while Jane’s blush grew brighter and brighter. She was trying to pretend she hadn’t met Mr. McCrae on the road back to London, but she wasn’t doing a cracking good job of it.

  Mr. McCrae, however, performed admirably. As much as Georgina would like to think him self-centered enough to have forgotten Lady Jane, she had to admit he was just being nice.

  “We were discussing the romantic tale of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy.” Lady Theodora tilted her head to look up at Trent through her lashes. “Have you by chance read the book, my lord?”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure, but I’ve noticed both my sisters carrying it around.” Trent looked around the little group. “Is it one you’d recommend?”

  Jane and Lady Theodora set themselves on either side of Trent, forcing Mr. McCrae to step back or be trampled. He moved around the circle to Georgina’s side.

  Watching her friends simper over her brother was unbearable, particularly when they simpered about a book. It wasn’t because she thought Trent didn’t deserve it but because it left her with no way to maneuver the situation. She was left powerless on the fringe.

  It felt eerily foretelling.

  Her fan churned the air around her, making her ringlets flutter. She forced herself to slow the flicking to a respectable, sedate speed. She couldn’t let everyone know she was flustered.

  “There are quite a few people on the terrace this evening,” Mr. McCrae said, leaning in so the words went to her ears only. “Would you like for me to escort you?”

  “No.” She bit her lip at the lie.

  Lady Jane edged closer to Trent, as if he didn’t know she’d tried to run off with Lord Howard. It was almost nauseating.

  Georgina snapped her fan closed. “Yes.”

  Colin bowed and offered his arm.

  In deference to the warm night, their hostess had lit the terrace almost as well as the drawing rooms. Several couples mingled on the other side of the thrown-open double doors. It was the perfect place for a semiprivate conversation.

  Georgina glanced at Col . . . Mr. McCrae. If only her conversing partner were more advantageous.

  “You carry a book around?” Mr. McCrae leaned on the stone balustrade in a circle of light.

  The shifting shadows from the lantern flame licked at the red tinges in his brown hair. She shouldn’t notice. She told herself not to notice. Finding this man’s hair more compelling than Ashcombe’s brown-on-brown locks wouldn’t help her achieve her goal. “Every young lady keeps a book lying around. You never know when you will need to entertain yourself for a moment of two.”

  Mr. McCrae’s eyebrows shot up and a smile tweaked the corner of his lips. “That is true. Most young ladies can find momentary solace within the pages of a novel.” He leaned in a bit, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But not you.”

  Georgina twisted her head to look over the terrace, ensuring that no one was close enough to hear his words. “Have a care with your words, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  They stood in silence for a moment. Why didn’t she walk away from him? It wasn’t as if she wanted to be spending time with him. She should claim a need for refreshment or even a necessary visit to the retiring room. Anything to get away from his side and in the vicinity of someone more suitable. Preferably Ashcombe.

  “Why haven’t you told them?” His whisper rolled over her ear, soft as the roses that lent their heavy perfume to the terrace air.

  Were they still talking about that? She made herself busy adjusting her glove so she wouldn’t have to look him in the face. If she saw pity, it would kill her. “We already addressed this. I would be the laughingstock of London. I’d be lucky for an offer to run away with Wickham.”

  He laughed low and it skittered across her skin and beneath the glove she’d just smoothed. “Hang London. I’m talking about your family. Trent truly believes you’ve read the book.”

  “I have read the book.” She finally looked at him to ensure he believed her.

  His lifted eyebrow indicated he didn’t.

  “Very well, Harriette has read it to me, but that’s as good as reading it myself.”

  “Why haven’t you told them?”

  The man was like a spinster trying to hold the attention of a third-tier bachelor. Why couldn’t he let her be? “Tell me, Mr. McCrae, what purpose would that serve?”

  He blinked, appearing caught off guard for the first time since she’d met him. “They would be able to help you.”

  She leaned in, hoping if anyone glanced their way the conversation would appear light and friendly, not serious or personal in any way. “Help me do what?”

  If he said they could help her learn to read, she’d risk the scandal and poke him in the eye with her fan right there on the terrace. She’d tried everything over the years from smuggling in instruction primers to having Harriette write words in gigantic letters. Nothing had made r
eading any easier. Eventually she’d managed deciphering a line or two in a printed book, but it had taken her hours.

  Only slightly better would be the idea that they could assist her in making an advantageous marriage. Didn’t he know any overt efforts on their part would make her look desperate and cause everyone to wonder what was wrong with her?

  He shifted his weight, doing his part to appear a man compelled to escort her outside. Maybe it wasn’t an act. What if he had only brought her outside because he felt it his gentlemanly duty?

  “They could help you be yourself.”

  It was Georgina’s turn to blink, to reveal the shock she couldn’t contain. Of all the things he wished her to do, be herself was the last thing she expected. No one expected you to be yourself in London. They wanted perfection, the epitome of a lady. “Colin, I—”

  “Ah, Lady Georgina, I was wondering if you intended to grace us with your presence this evening.”

  Colin held her gaze for but a moment more before acknowledging the man behind her. “Lord Ashcombe, good evening.”

  “Mr. McCrae.” The unspoken question was written all over his face. He wanted to know what she was doing on the terrace with someone of so little consequence.

  “Mr. McCrae was kind enough to escort me out here when Trent became an overwhelming center of attention.” She cast the earl her most flirtatious smile. If the loosening of his own smile was an indication, he swallowed the bait like a trout in her brother’s fishing stream. “Having an eligible brother can be quite tiresome.”

  “Perhaps we could find some more pleasant company? There has been talk of starting up dancing in the drawing room.” He offered his arm.

  Georgina laid her hand on it. “That sounds delightful, Lord Ashcombe.” Part of her wanted to stay on the terrace with Colin, and she wondered at that. Wasn’t Ashcombe her goal? Her options were running out. She couldn’t afford to lose this one.

  She cast a glance over her shoulder as she re-entered the house. Why did it feel like Colin was the actual loss?

  He told himself to look out at the garden, at the other couples on the terrace, his shoes, anything really besides the white swish of Georgina’s skirt as she entered the house. It didn’t work. His gaze stuck to her until she disappeared. Only then did he turn to look over the garden, his lips pressed into a grim line. Had he truly thought things would be different now? He’d come to this party particularly to see her, had maneuvered Trent into bringing him since Colin hadn’t actually been invited. And for what? Another cold brush-off from the Ice Queen?

  After everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, Colin had thought it would be different. Thought she would be different. He liked the girl who had dropped everything to save her friend, manipulating her brothers and even himself into preventing a young woman’s ruin. He’d been impressed by the Georgina who had hidden behind a chaise lounge, climbed down a rope made of trousers, and been daring enough to bare her own secrets to learn a few of his.

  If he didn’t know better, he would be convinced that there were actually two women of like name and appearance, switching places at will for the express purpose of driving him mad.

  Colin traced Georgina’s path into the drawing room. He should leave. One of the cardinal rules of a man on the fringe of high society was that he knew how to keep his place. Draw too much attention to yourself and they were likely to cut you off. Attending parties you weren’t invited to was a very good way to collect attention.

  She was dancing with Ashcombe. She was smiling her perfect smile, the one Colin hated, the one she used to keep anyone from getting close enough to discover her secret. The dancers went in a circle, and Ashcombe’s appreciation of the smile was evident. He was enjoying being the focus of the prettiest girl in the room, the one everyone said would make the match of the year. At least they had before Miranda’s marriage to Ryland had hit the papers.

  “Save me.”

  Colin turned to find Trent, wild-eyed and panicked. “From what?”

  Trent’s gaze darted around the room. “Whom.”

  Colin rolled his eyes. “From whom, then.”

  “Lady Jane.”

  “The woman we resc—” Colin snapped his teeth shut and swallowed. They didn’t need to go through the trouble of saving the girl only to start rumors about the event. “The young lady Lord Howard was calling on recently?”

  “The very one. She has, shall we say, decided to direct her attentions elsewhere after recent events.”

  Colin laughed. The disgruntled look on Trent’s face was too funny not to. He couldn’t quite find it in his heart to feel sorry for the beleaguered man.

  Trent nudged Colin in the shoulder. “I’m serious.”

  “What would you have me do? Your rescuing her could be seen as rather romantic.”

  “You were there too.” Trent frowned.

  “I’m afraid I am not aristocratic, secluded, or destitute, and we all know a romantic hero must possess one of those qualities.”

  Trent’s eyes widened in new desperation. “Come up with something to distract her from me. Anything will do, really.”

  Colin looked around the room, wondering what could possibly divert a woman’s attention from a man she now viewed as her reputation’s savior. His eyes lit on the slightly rounded figure of Lord Howard on the other side of the drawing room. “I believe your distraction has arrived.”

  “So help me, if she runs off with that lout again, I’ll let her be ruined.”

  Colin was inclined to agree. But he was more worried that Lord Howard would confront Lady Jane and she would give up the names of those who had helped her escape. What would Lord Howard do with that information? Colin didn’t have any direct association with the man, but the cad had a title and could certainly make life rough if he chose to. All it would take was a well-placed comment or two.

  “You should ask her to dance.”

  Trent glared at Colin. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m trying to avoid her, not encourage her.”

  “She’ll move on to someone else by the end of the week. What’s important now is that Lord Howard thinks her out of his reach and in the company of people who make it worth his while to leave it alone.”

  A laugh to Colin’s left grated across his skin even as he appreciated the perfect cadence and melody of the sound. Did she practice that too? Ashcombe wasn’t a funny man, so he couldn’t have said anything worth truly laughing about.

  “I suppose you’re right.” Trent rubbed a hand over his face, and Colin had to think back to what they’d been talking about a few moments ago.

  He had to get out of here before he did something stupid. Colin clapped Trent on the shoulder. “Get to it, my man. I’m heading home.”

  Trent’s eyebrows rose. “But we’ve only been here twenty minutes.”

  “I remembered some urgent business I left undone when we left town last night.” That wasn’t completely untrue. He’d left things unfinished on his desk, but all of it had been taken care of this afternoon.

  Without waiting for Trent to acknowledge his statement, Colin headed out the door, bypassing saying good-bye to the hosts, who hadn’t actually wanted him there in the first place.

  When he got home, he went to his study even though he had nothing else to do there this evening. The letter from Alastair Finley still sat on the corner of the desk, right next to the one from his father. He’d left them there, too sentimental to toss them in the fire, yet unable to bring himself to actually answer either one.

  His fingers danced over the request from Alastair. With his instincts screaming at him to put the paper down and not get pulled into the feud once more, Colin opened the paper and read the offer again. It was still there, the request for an office manager, Alastair’s concerns over not having a suitable heir, his not-so-subtle hints about Erika’s availability. The old seaman was offering a way home, a new life, even a little bit of revenge on Colin’s father. For the first time, Colin saw a bit of appeal in al
l three things.

  Chapter 22

  “This is different.” Harriette edged a bit closer to Georgina. The maid was still pale with pain, but her limp was barely noticeable. Georgina had tried to convince her to stay home another day and rest, but Harriette wouldn’t hear of it. She felt bad enough for not being able to help during the entire Jane debacle.

  “We’re still in Mayfair.” Barely. Georgina hoped she had infused that sentence with a bit more confidence than she felt. The coffeehouse, busy but not overly crowded, was in a respectable part of town, but not one Georgina frequented.

  Georgina led Harriette to a table in the back. She’d selected this shop because it was nowhere near St. James’s or Bond Street, where her friends and acquaintances were likely to gather. A quick glance around the shop revealed a few curious stares but no familiar faces. Even her simplest dress was drawing notice among the clientele filling the establishment.

  “Why couldn’t we have gone to our usual shop?” Harriette sat next to Georgina, looking around as if she expected to find the customers had turned from gentry, barristers, and the occasional shop owner into hardened sailors, ruffians, and dangerous scar-faced thugs.

  “Because we’re meeting Lavinia.” Georgina had ignored Lavinia’s presence in Town as long as she dared. It felt wrong to not acknowledge their friendship, but at the same time Georgina couldn’t risk marring her own reputation with Lavinia’s.

  Colin’s voice had chided her for hours after she’d sent Lavinia an invite to meet her here at this out-of-the-way coffeehouse, but Georgina couldn’t do anything else. Lavinia was a fine companion in the country, where everyone in the area knew her and had grown accustomed to her stilted speaking. She wasn’t the most popular girl in the village. No one scorned her, as evidenced by the marriage offer from Mr. Dixon, but at the same time, even there, she wasn’t always welcomed with warmth.

  Lavinia looked as if she belonged with the crowd as she entered the shop, her light brown ringlets framing an easy smile. She rushed across the room, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners when she reached Georgina’s table.