Rogue Grooms

by Amanda McCabe

  She much preferred Lord Wayland’s quiet elegance.

  So, he was handsome, he dressed with good taste, he liked her dog, he had a nice laugh, performed great deeds in the park, was a war hero, and a duke.

  Georgina conceded with a sigh. He was perfect. Probably too perfect for her own flawed self. However, that did not mean she could not enjoy his company while she had the chance.

  “I do believe we have arrived at last!” said Elizabeth.

  Georgina shifted her attention to the carriage window to see that their wait was indeed over. Thank the gods, she thought. She could certainly use a glass of champagne. And had it suddenly become overly warm in the carriage?

  A footman opened the carriage door, and Alex stepped out first to assist Georgina and Elizabeth. Georgina was quite touched to see the care he took with Elizabeth; Lizzie thought her condition was still hidden, but it was really becoming quite apparent beneath her lacy sash. It was clear that Alex had apprehended this, and he held her arm tightly to help her ascend the steep front steps.

  Georgina left her cloak with the Beatons’ footman and joined Alex and Elizabeth at the end of the receiving line, at the foot of the grand staircase. This was always one of her favorite moments of a ball; the chance to look ahead and behind her, and see who was in attendance. To see if there was anyone who might need to have their portrait painted, or if there were any friends to greet.

  Tonight, though, there could be no one more fascinating than the person she was with.

  Alex detested balls.

  They were always overly warm, overly scented with the perfumes of the guests and the masses of flowers, and full of uninteresting conversation. He was also a rather poor dancer, which could often prove quite embarrassing.

  He could see, as he and Georgina and Elizabeth at last greeted their hostess and entered the ballroom, that this particular rout would be scarce any different from those he attended since his return to London.

  The dancing had not yet begun; the musicians were tuning up behind a bank of potted palms, and the crowd was milling about waiting for the opening pavane. It all seemed very aimless, with ladies exclaiming over one another’s gowns, gentlemen inquiring after one another’s latest acquisitions at Tattersall’s, couples claiming one another for the dances, and footmen moving about with full trays of champagne glasses.

  Yet he knew it was not at all aimless. Reputations were made and broken on the whispers behind fans, the gentleman-to-gentleman asides. It was a precarious, expensive world, one that some people, such as Alex’s brother, would pay anything, do anything, to stay in. In the end, the gambling and the spending had broken Damian, and all their family.

  And Alex had been far away, unable to stop any of the madness and unhappiness.

  In the midst of these renewed pangs of guilt, he felt the light pressure of Georgina’s fingers on his arm. He turned to look down at her.

  She smiled at him, and went up on tiptoe to murmur in his ear, “Absolutely horrid, is it not? Like a gathering of clucking chickens.”

  He laughed. “Horrid.”

  “Ah, the things we go through for our art, Georgie,” Elizabeth sighed. Then she drifted off to greet a group of friends.

  “Indeed,” Georgina said. She tugged at his arm. “Shall we join the fray, Lord Wayland? I do believe people are beginning to stare.”

  Alex looked down at her, at her inquisitive green eyes, and he knew then that he could never be the cause of another person’s unhappiness, as he had been with his family, being far away and unable to curb Damian’s excesses. He had only known Georgina Beaumont for a very brief while, but he knew that she would be very angry, and very hurt, if she found out about his friends’ silly wager, and his own secret temptations toward her.

  He had no wish to see those eyes full of anger. He wanted them to laugh at him, to sparkle and smile—to fill with admiration, as he was certain his did now as they looked at her.

  He turned back to the ballroom, and saw that they were indeed attracting attention. As a new duke, with a scandal for a brother, he had become accustomed to the attention, even though it still made him most uncomfortable. Yet now he found that a new duke with a beautiful, famous woman on his arm was an even greater object of interest than a duke alone.

  Mamas glared at Georgina, even as they urged their daughters to stand up straighter and smooth their hair. Some of the gentlemen, obviously admirers of “La Beaumont,” looked crestfallen; others took out their quizzing glasses and eyed the two of them speculatively. Sophisticated young matrons and widows studied Georgina’s gown, then looked down at their own lesser creations in chagrined comparison.

  The elderly Lady Collins, a notorious eccentric, said, loud enough to be heard even over the large crowd, “Is that that artist chit with young Wayland? I would wager that hair of hers is dyed! Never saw that red in nature.”

  Georgina giggled.

  Alex frowned. “What an old harridan that Lady Collins is.”

  “Nonsense!” Georgina replied. “I plan to be just like her when I am seventy; I will say what I please, and care for none. Is that champagne I see over there? Shall we force our way through the masses and get a glass?”

  “What a grand idea, Mrs. Beaumont. I was just thinking the exact same thing myself.”

  As they ventured into the crowd, Alex looked about for Hildebrand and Freddie. He intended to ask them to call off that silly wager as soon as possible; he did not care two straws if it was “ungentlemanly” to cancel a wager once it was made. He wanted to become friends with Georgina, and he did not want such nonsense hanging over them like a dark cloud.

  Yet they were nowhere to be found, and he soon found himself in the midst of a large circle of Georgina’s acquaintances, all of them eager to be introduced to him. In the middle of their conversation and laughter, he quite forgot about Hildebrand and Freddie and any wagers at all.

  “What a handsome fellow your duke is, Georgina!” whispered Lady Lonsdale, a very stylish lady whose portrait Georgina had once painted, and who had become a friend. “I am quite envious.”

  Georgina laughed, and looked to the dance floor, where Alex was engaged in a country-dance with Elizabeth. “There is no need to be envious, Harriet! He is not ‘my’ duke. Lord Wayland and I only met this afternoon, and he kindly offered to escort Elizabeth and myself this evening, since Nicholas is from Town.”

  “Hm. Only out of the kindness of his heart, I am sure.” Lady Lonsdale fluttered her feathered fan. “Tell me, how did you and the duke meet?”

  “He jumped into the river after my dog.”

  “Ha!” Lady Lonsdale laughed most heartily. “Are you telling me a corker, Georgina?”

  “I assure you I am not! Lady Kate escaped from her lead and went for a swim. Lord Wayland very gallantly rescued her from being carried off, and Elizabeth invited him to take tea with us at her house in thanks.”

  “Oh, my dear! Such an on dit. One of the great heroes of the Peninsula ruining his attire rescuing the dog of a famous artist! It will be in all the papers tomorrow, you know.”

  “I only hope that the scandalmongers do not imply that I am on the hunt for a new husband.”

  “Your appearing here with him tonight will be sure to cause talk.”

  “There is always talk. I am quite accustomed to it.”

  “And you do nothing to discourage it!” Lady Lonsdale’s tone was gleeful.

  Georgina shrugged blithely. “It is good for my career to be noticed! As long as there is no true scandal. That would be quite disastrous.”

  The dance had ended, and Alex was leading Elizabeth toward them, the two of them happily laughing and chatting.

  “He is very handsome,” said Lady Lonsdale. “And he does seem to like you a great deal.”

  “His lordship has been very kind...”

  “No doubt.” Lady Lonsdale lowered her fan, and smiled as Elizabeth and Alex reached them. “Lady Elizabeth! How very radiant you are this evening. Marriage must certain
ly agree with you.”

  “It does indeed!” Elizabeth replied merrily.

  “When shall we have the pleasure of seeing your scamp of a husband again?”

  “Very soon, I am sure, Lady Lonsdale. There was a bit of an emergency at our country estate, which he went to look in on. But may I present his worthy substitute this evening, His Grace the Duke of Wayland? Lord Wayland, this is our friend, the Countess of Lonsdale. Georgina painted her portrait last year, and she is a great patron of art!”

  “So you must be certain to be nice to her!” Georgina laughed.

  Alex grinned, and bowed to Lady Lonsdale. “I shall endeavor to do my best, Mrs. Beaumont. How do you do, Lady Lonsdale.”

  “You must not listen to their fustian, Lord Wayland! They will have you believing I am an ogre who does naught but sit for portraits all day, and lord it over poor, groveling artists,” said Lady Lonsdale. “I am very glad to meet you, though, Lord Wayland. I have heard that you performed quite a dashing feat in the park today. I am sorry I missed it.”

  “Yes, well, rescuing fair damsels in distress is a specialty of mine.”

  “So I understand.” Lady Lonsdale smiled at him over her fan.

  The orchestra struck up the lilting strains of a waltz, and Alex turned to Georgina. “Mrs. Beaumont, would you do me the great honor of dancing with me?”

  “Thank you, yes.” As Georgina accepted his arm and went with him to the dance floor he had only just vacated, she said, “I feel I should warn you, though, that I bring more enthusiasm to the dance than grace.”

  “I will confess in turn—my feet are of the two left variety.” One of his hands slid into hers, and the other landed warmly at her waist. “But I daresay we shall rub along well enough together.”

  “I daresay we shall.”

  Indeed they did. Their steps seemed well matched, and soon they were swaying and swooping amid the other couples, taking the corners in dashingly executed spins that sent Georgina’s emerald green skirts swirling.

  She laughed merrily after one especially energetic turn, bringing the gazes of the other dancers in their direction. “I cannot recall when I had such fun waltzing!”

  “Nor I! Dancing is usually a bit of a chore, something I had to do with my sister at country assemblies when I was a lad. But this is quite nice. Quite—different.”

  “So the evening has not proved to be so tedious as you had feared?”

  “How did you know I feared it would be tedious?”

  Georgina smiled slyly. “I have my ways!”

  “Well, I never expected that your company would be tedious. And this ball has not been at all, thanks to you and Lady Elizabeth.”

  Georgina hummed a bit to the music as they turned and swayed. “I do believe this is an Italian song. I could almost think myself home again!” She closed her eyes, and smiled at the blissful moment of music and Alex’s warm arms about her.

  All too soon, the music ended.

  Georgina found herself quite unaccountably disappointed.

  “Shall we take a stroll on the terrace?” Alex asked. “It is sure to be cooler outside.”

  “Oh, yes, what a lovely idea!”

  There were several couples gathered on the Beatons’ terrace, walking, talking quietly, or watching the brightly lit ballroom through the open doors. A few bolder guests could be glimpsed slipping about the garden beyond.

  It was quite an extension of the ball, but much cooler, and lovely beneath the stars.

  Georgina leaned against the marble balustrade, and sipped at the glass of champagne she had caught from a footman’s tray on the way out of the ballroom. It was truly a beautiful night. The London sky was un-characteristically clear, lit by an almost full, pale silver moon. The scent of early roses from the garden hung sweet in the air. The champagne was cool and delicious as it slid down her throat.

  And Alex’s arm was warm and delicious when he leaned on the balustrade beside her.

  “Do you miss your home in Italy very much, Mrs. Beaumont?” he asked quietly.

  Georgina smiled at him. “Dreadfully.”

  “Will you tell me about it? I have been to Spain, and France, and Belgium, but never to Italy.”

  “Are you certain you wish me to speak of it? Once begun, I often cannot stop!”

  “I am certain. Tell me, please.”

  “Well, I have two homes in Italy. One is a small villa at Lake Como, which I purchased after my second husband passed away. It is quite old, sixteenth century, and something is always falling to bits. The plasterer has to be called in almost every year!” Yet even as she complained, her face lit with a small smile.

  “Were there no more modern houses available in the area?”

  “Oh, yes, certainly. But this particular one boasts a very fine fresco in the room I use as a dining room, a lovely work of a classical party group eating grapes and dancing. There is also a very good view from the terrace, where I often have luncheon parties when the weather is especially fine. And there are endless vistas for sketching!”

  She paused to sip at her champagne, and Alex did the same. He turned her words over in his mind; they had conjured for him a vision of not only a beautiful place, but of a life lived beautifully, with friends and parties and endless vistas of loveliness.

  He so envied her in that moment.

  He drained his glass, and said, “What is your second home?”

  “That is my city home, in Venice. A very small place, also very old and crumbling, but not without its own charms! Elizabeth and her husband have purchased a house just across the canal, and they visit me there in the winter.”

  “I am truly jealous, Mrs. Beaumont.”

  She laughed brightly. “Jealous, Lord Wayland? Of me? Why, you are a duke! Surely you possess far finer properties than my small homes.”

  Alex thought wryly of the large town house, and the hunting box in Scotland, both lost to his brother’s profligacy. “I think what I am jealous of is your freedom. It is obvious that you love your life, that you love what you do.”

  Georgina tilted her head, gazing up at him quizzically. “I do. I think there is nothing more wonderful in life than to have a blank canvas before me and a paintbrush in hand, with an Italian scene to paint. And I have the best of friends, who share that passion. But what is there in your own life, Lord Wayland, that you would wish different? What would you wish to put in its stead?”

  He looked down at her, standing there beside him in the moonlight. A tiny frown of concern pleated her ivory brow. He wanted, more than anything he had ever wanted before, to kiss her. He wanted to kiss away that frown, to hold her against him, and lose all his troubles in her warmth and happiness.

  He even lifted his hand a tiny bit toward her, but he was saved from his own folly by Elizabeth’s voice calling to them from the open terrace doors.

  “There you two are!” she said. “The last dance is about to begin, and then of course there shall be a mad dash for supper. You would not wish to miss Lady Beaton’s lobster patties.”

  Alex’s hand fell back to his side.

  Georgina laughed, and placed her empty glass on the balustrade. “Certainly not! I have heard such glorious things about those lobster patties.”

  “As have I.” Alex held out his arm to her. “Shall we?”

  Her hand was as light as a bird on his sleeve. “Thank you, Lord Wayland!”

  As they reentered the ballroom, Alex at last caught a glimpse of Hildebrand and Freddie, just as they were departing. They saw him, and sent him laughing little waves before they left, their heads together as they whispered gleefully.

  “Was that not your friends? Mr. Marlow and Viscount Garrick?” said Georgina. “Do you not wish to go after them and bid them good evening? I could save you a seat in the dining room.”

  Alex took one last glance at Hildebrand and Freddie’s departing figures, then shook his head. “Anything I have to say to them can certainly wait until tomorrow. The lobster patties, however, cannot w
ait.”

  Chapter Six

  “Was the ball last night not a crush? I vow all the ton must have been there,” Elizabeth sighed.

  It was very nearly noon, but they were only just beginning their morning toast and chocolate in the breakfast room. All the morning papers were spread across the table, as they perused them for mention of their names and descriptions of various gowns and on dits.

  “Hm, quite,” Georgina replied as she spread marmalade on her toast, almost dragging the ribbons of her morning gown through the stickiness. She was not yet entirely awake, though she did notice, with much gratification, that they were mentioned several times in papers. “Even that funny old Lady Collins was there.”

  “And everyone seemed quite interested in your handsome escort!”

  “Our escort, Lizzie!” Georgina protested. “Did Lord Wayland not escort both of us to the ball?”

  “Well, yes, of course. Most proper. But anyone could see it was you he was there for, you he was interested in. How could he not be? Every young buck in Town is at your feet.”

  “Lord Wayland is hardly a young buck. He is quite the most distinguished gentleman I have met this Season.”

  “Oh, yes. Quite.” Elizabeth grinned mischievously. “Perhaps even the most distinguished gentleman you have seen in—years? I know I have not seen anyone so distinguished.”

  “Are your husband and brother not so, Lizzie?”

  “I love Nick with all my heart, and in my eyes he is the finest man in the world. Yet distinguished is not the first word that springs to mind when one thinks of him. Peter, of course, is quite distinguished in his own fashion, and is much less formidable since Carmen and Isabella came into his life.” Elizabeth frowned in thought. “But Lord Wayland has an openness and amiability that I fear my dear brother often lacks. His manners were very charming, as I’m sure you must agree, Georgie.”