“Did you?” Alex’s voice was quiet. “Do you often gamble, Georgina?”
Georgina remembered then, much to her mortification, that Alex’s brother, the late Duke of Wayland, had caused a great scandal with his huge gambling losses. Even in the ton, who often routinely lost hundreds of pounds on the turn of a card, he had been notorious.
“Oh, no,” she hastened to assure him. “A bit at silver loo now and then, but never high stakes. And I hardly ever wager. Only to bring ridiculous loobies like Pynchon down a peg. I have much better things to do with my money.”
“Such as that charming bonnet,” Alex murmured. “Well, if you ever need to go driving, my horses are at your disposal.”
“Why, thank you, Alex!” Georgina cried. “They are darlings. And you must be sure to come and watch me trounce Pynchon. It will be an easy victory over one so ham-handed! Everyone will be there.”
“When is the race to be?”
“A fortnight from Saturday, at the White Hart Inn, just outside of Town.”
“I shall be sure to be there.”
“Excellent! Oh, look, there is Lady Lonsdale waving to us. Shall we go speak to her?”
“By all means.” But as Alex turned toward where Lady Lonsdale waited, perched on her gray mare, he looked at Georgina with a rather serious gleam in his eyes. “You will be very careful in this race, will you not, Georgina? And you will have a physician in attendance?”
“How very solemn you are!” Georgina laughed lightly, but she was secretly pleased that he was so very concerned. No man had been careful of her or her well-being for such a very long time. “Of course I will be careful. And you will be there to watch out for me, will you not?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I will certainly be there.”
“I had a very nice time,” Georgina said, accepting Alex’s hand as he assisted her from the curricle. “I never would have thought I could say that about a sedate drive through the park at the crowded hour, but so it was!”
Alex’s hand lingered on her own for one long, warm, sweet moment. Then he stepped away. “I, too, enjoyed the afternoon.”
“Will you not come inside to say hello to Elizabeth?” Georgina stepped around to pat Scylla’s and Charybdis’s noses in farewell.
“I fear I have kept you quite late, and you will be wanting to prepare for your evening.”
“Oh, we are having a quiet evening at home. Elizabeth was rather tired from her exertions at the ball last night, and I insisted she rest.”
“Yes.” Alex hesitated, then said, “Forgive my boldness, Georgina, but is your friend quite well?”
“Well? She is, er, in a delicate way.”
Alex blushed just a bit, which Georgina again found so charming. “I had perceived that! But I mean, is she having a difficult time of it? She seemed pale last night, and a trifle short of breath.”
Georgina frowned. “I confess I have been rather concerned. She tries to pretend that everything is the same as ever it was, but it is not. She is so tired, where before she never was.”
“My old nursemaid, who is now retired to a cottage on my family’s estate, saw my mother very ably through four difficult confinements, and only one of the babes was lost. She has a great knowledge of herbs and cures. If you like, I could give you her direction and you could write to her. I am certain she would love to share her knowledge with you.”
Georgina felt the prickle of incipient tears. She blinked very hard, and turned to bend her head over Scylla’s neck. Never had she been so touched by a man’s thoughtfulness. How many men of her acquaintance would be so concerned over the health of a strange woman and that of her unborn child? Concerned enough even to speak of the indelicate.
None would be. None but this man.
“That is so kind of you, Alex,” she said softly. “So very kind! Elizabeth is my dearest friend, really almost my sister. I will do everything I can to help her.”
“Yes. Of course. Well.” Alex coughed, and shifted his feet uncomfortably.
Georgina almost smiled at that adorable discomfiture.
“Perhaps,” he continued, “if Lady Elizabeth is feeling well tomorrow, you and she, and Lady Kate and Lady Isabella, would care to take a picnic to the country? I am sure my friends Marlow and Garrick would accompany us. Fresh air and sunshine would probably be beneficial to Lady Elizabeth.”
“I am sure it would!” Georgina cried. “That would be most pleasant. I will speak with Elizabeth, but I know we have no fixed engagements tomorrow.”
“Then, we shall call for you at noon.” Alex took her hand, and raised it to his lips. “Until then, Georgina.”
“Yes. Good day, Alex.”
Georgina watched him until his curricle turned a corner, out of her sight. Only then did she go inside the house, her hand curled carefully around that kiss.
“Georgie!” Elizabeth called through the open drawing room door. “Is that you?”
“Yes, it is me.” Georgina left her gloves and bonnet on a table in the foyer, and went into the drawing room.
Elizabeth was ensconced on a chaise before the fire, a blanket tucked about her and a book open on her lap. Dark purple smudges still shadowed her gray eyes, but she seemed a trifle less pale.
“How are you feeling, dear?” Georgina sat down next to Lady Kate in a deep armchair across from Elizabeth.
“Oh, much more the thing! I had some tea and biscuits earlier, after I settled some points about my salon, and Lady Kate and I have been having a coze. I even think I might enjoy a bit of trout for supper!”
“Lizzie. I know I have said it before, but I must say it again. You should go to the country, to Evanstone Park, and rest.”
“Georgina!” Elizabeth laughed. “Don’t fuss so, dear. If I do feel worse, I will go to Evanstone and wait for the baby to make its appearance. For now, though, I am quite well. I want to stay here in Town, and enjoy myself with you and our friends, just for a bit longer.”
“If you are quite sure...” Georgina said uncertainly.
“I am sure! Now, enough about me. I want to hear all about your afternoon with the handsome Lord Wayland.”
Georgina settled back in her chair with a blissful sigh, the golden afternoon still warm around her. “It was delightful! Lord Wayland is such a fine man, so very kind. He was all that is amiable. He even offered to let me drive his cattle, which are quite fine.” Georgina paused, stroking Lady Kate’s soft fur thoughtfully. “I do think, Lizzie, that perhaps Lord Wayland—or Alex, as he asked me to call him—is not all that he shows to the world.”
Elizabeth looked up, surprised. “Whatever do you mean, Georgie? Not all that he shows?”
“Oh, I do not mean that he hides dire vices behind a pretty facade! Far from it. I suppose I should have said he is more,” Georgina mused.
“Well, I would not wonder at it!” said Elizabeth. “His family must be quite in a stew still.”
“How do you mean? What do you know about the Kentons, Lizzie?”
“Only gossip, really. If I knew anything ill of Lord Wayland, I would have told you straight away. But Nick knew Damian Kenton, Alex’s brother, slightly, during his old raking days before our marriage.”
“The late duke? I have heard so many rumors about him. What was he really like?”
Georgina and Elizabeth leaned their heads together in avid interest.
“A bad ’un,” whispered Elizabeth. “Always gambling, whoring; he lost huge amounts, without a thought for his family.”
“Hm, yes. Alex said something about his brother’s gambling.”
“Yes. But this present duke, I think, is not much like his brother,” Elizabeth suggested. “Would you not say so, Georgie?”
Georgina smiled. “Oh, yes. I would definitely say so.”
“Then, you will see him again?”
“He has asked us all—you, me, Lady Kate, and Isabella—on a picnic tomorrow. Do you think you feel well enough?”
“Of course! The fresh air will do w
onders for me, and the baby. I quite look forward to it!”
“Good. So do I.”
Georgina lay awake long into the night, turning Elizabeth’s words about Alex’s family over in her mind.
So Damian Kenton had been a wastrel, just as she suspected. Racketing about Town, losing money, while his mother and sister sat in the country, and his younger brother fought for his country in Spain and at Waterloo.
Perhaps that, then, was a part of the secret solemnity in Alex’s so-blue eyes. Perhaps he felt guilt that his family had been in such straits when he was too far away to help them. Helpless to shield them from his brother’s excesses.
How well Georgina knew that feeling! Helpless guilt had been her companion throughout her childhood.
She rolled onto her side, to watch the bar of moonlight that fell from her window across the carpet. There was also one other, small thought that bothered her.
If Damian Kenton had been such a terrible spend-thrift, what was the condition of the Kenton fortunes now?
Not that she cared a great deal for such things. She had lived in genteel poverty for much of her early life, and she knew very well that honesty and humor were to be valued above gold. Money was merely something that—facilitated life.
But now she was wealthy. She could sense that Alex was a proud man, and if he was in dire straits, he could find the idea of a friendship with her to be made awkward by vulgar lucre. Or, even worse, he could find friendship with her sweetened by her money.
And Georgina would not care for that at all!
Chapter Eight
“Georgie, do you think these flowers look better here, or over on that table?”
Georgina tilted her head, examining the large vase of pink and white roses. “They look lovely in either place.”
Elizabeth sighed in exasperation. “That is not very much help! The guests will be arriving in an hour, or less, and I cannot even situate the decorations. At least the refreshments are prepared and laid out.” She glanced toward the open doors of the dining room, where a sumptuous repast was spread. “Perhaps the crab cakes would have been better than the mushroom tarts?”
“The mushroom tarts are delicious!” Georgina paused before a mirror, and straightened the amber combs in her hair. She smoothed the bodice of her saffron-gold gown. Was it just a trifle too low-cut? Would Alex like it?
She giggled, and tugged the satin bodice just a bit lower.
“Georgina, you are not attending!” Elizabeth cried.
“Of course I am,” Georgina answered. “Why are you so very worried? You have given many routs before, Lizzie.”
“This is my first salon, and I want it to be a great success. I want people clamoring for invitations to my Friday evenings!” Elizabeth picked up the vase and moved it to the other table. “Here, I think.”
“It was so very charming over there, though,” a masculine voice drawled.
Elizabeth whirled around in a flurry of sapphire silk skirts. “Nicholas!” she cried, and ran across the room to fling herself into her husband’s arms. “You are here at last! I thought surely you would never arrive in time.”
Nicholas kissed her, and held her close against him. “I’m sorry, my love. We had a broken wheel on the road. But I swore to you I would not miss your salon, and here I am.” He smiled at Georgina. “Hullo, Georgie! You are stunning, as always.”
“Thank you, Nick. I am very glad you are here; you can persuade your wife to cease rushing about and sit down, before her ankles swell.”
“My ankles are not swollen!” Elizabeth protested. But she did sit down, and propped her slippered feet up on an embroidered footstool. “How did you find Evanstone Park, my love? Not too much damaged, I hope.”
“Nothing that couldn’t be repaired. The storm did a nasty job on the roof over the east wing, though.” Nicholas poured himself a measure of brandy from the array laid out for the party, and sat down next to his wife. “What have you two been up to while I’ve been away?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary way,” said Elizabeth. “We went on a delightful picnic yesterday, and attended the Beaton ball last week. A terrible crush, as always.”
“I hope that you have been resting enough, Lizzie,” Nicholas said sternly.
“Of course I have!” Then Elizabeth grinned mischievously. “And Georgina has a new admirer.”
“Another one?” Nicholas laughed. “Georgie, you really ought to leave someone for the other ladies.”
“I hardly have every man in London at my feet!” Georgina protested.
“Oh. Only half, then?” asked Nicholas.
“No! And he is not my admirer, Lizzie.”
“Of course not. He is just here every day, escorting you to balls, and on picnics and drives. Sending flowers ...”
“He is being kind. He has been away from England for so long; he doesn’t know anyone else yet.”
“That is not it at all, and you know it!” said Elizabeth. “He obviously likes you. He probably wants to marry you.”
“No!” said Georgina firmly. “I am hardly suitable.”
“You are the most suitable! He could do no better. I think that he ...”
“Ladies, please!” Nicholas interrupted. “Who is this new admirer that has the two most unflappable women I know in such an uproar?”
“Alexander Kenton,” said Georgina. “The new Duke of Wayland.”
Nicholas’s dark brows shot up. “Hotspur Kenton?”
“You know him?” Georgina asked hopefully.
“I knew of him, in Spain. Everyone knew of Colonel Kenton of the Sixteenth. He was absolutely fearless, but an excellent leader; never asked his men to do anything he wouldn’t do himself. I had heard that Damian had finally stuck his spoon in the wall.” He grinned at Georgina. “So he is your new suitor, Georgie? Should I have a talk with him, find out his intentions?”
Before Georgina could respond to this bit of nonsense, the knocker at the front door sounded, and Elizabeth jumped out of her chair.
“The guests are arriving!” she cried. “Does everything look quite all right?”
“Perfect, darling,” said Nicholas. “Now, I will go upstairs and change my clothes before I disgrace you.” He paused to kiss Georgina’s cheek. “See you later, Duchess.”
Georgina smacked him on the shoulder.
The salon was proving to be a rousing success.
Painters, poets, musicians, patrons of the arts, and even politicians stood in groups large and small across the drawing room. They spilled out onto the small terrace, and flowed into the dining room where the refreshments beckoned. The mushroom tarts were consumed; the champagne was drunk; the harp and the pianoforte were played. Elizabeth was glowing with pleasure at her success, and the two paintings of Georgina’s that were displayed were greatly admired.
In short, it was looking to be a rather perfect evening, aside from one small flaw.
Well, a rather large flaw, actually. Alex had not yet appeared.
Every time the drawing room opened to admit a new flood of guests, Georgina would turn eagerly, searching their faces, only to be disappointed.
What was wrong with her, behaving like a silly schoolgirl when she was all of thirty years of age? Men handsomer than Alex Kenton had taken her driving before, had escorted her to balls and routs. They had been charming, pleasant company, enjoyable to flirt and dance with. And she had forgotten them almost as soon as they were out of her sight.
Why should this man be any different?
Because, she admitted to herself with a rueful sigh, he was different! She had so wanted him to see her paintings, to see how admired they were, that she had a talent. That she was not a mere empty-headed Society matron, dabbling in watercolors.
Because she wanted him to admire her, blast it! To be intrigued by her.
As she admired him. And was intrigued by him.
But how could she win his admiration if he was not even here!
“... do so love this one, Mrs. B
eaumont!”
Georgina turned her attention from the door to smile at the woman beside her, a small, blonde viscountess who had been examining her paintings. Georgina could not, unfortunately, remember which viscountess she was.
“Oh, yes?” she said helpfully.
“Yes!” The viscountess gestured with her glass of champagne at an informal study Georgina had done of Elizabeth, Nicholas, Lady Kate, Isabella, and Elizabeth’s brother and sister-in-law, Peter and Carmen, the Earl and Countess of Clifton. They were gathered around a tea table on a country house terrace, a scene of domestic harmony and great friendship, much laughter and love.
Georgina smiled to recall that particular golden afternoon at Evanstone Park, when she had been sketching away to capture the scene.
“I would vow I was there!” the viscountess—was it Lady Dalrymple?—continued. “You have captured the scene so beautifully. Is it perhaps available for purchase, Mrs. Beaumont?”
Georgina shook her head. “I fear not. That was done only for my own pleasure. As was that one.” She indicated her other work on display. It had the setting of the same terrace, but it was a solitary portrait of Carmen. A tall, raven-haired, striking Spanish woman, she was posed dramatically against the white marble of the terrace in a mantilla and gown of black lace.
Georgina had resisted all the efforts of Carmen’s husband to buy it from her. There was something about it that reminded Georgina so poignantly of her days following the drum on the Peninsula with Jack.
“An excellent likeness of Lady Clifton,” Lady Dalrymple said. “Such a pity neither of these works are available! Perhaps, however, you will be in London long enough to begin a new work? I had been thinking of a new portrait of myself, to present to Lord Dalrymple on our anniversary.”
Georgina smiled, sensing a new commission. “Perhaps, Lady Dalrymple, you would permit me to call on you some time next week, so we may discuss it further?”
“I would be ever so delighted, Mrs. Beaumont! Now, I must go and speak with Lady Elizabeth. Her salon has been such a quiz!”
Georgina watched her leave, then turned back to her own painting. It truly was a scene of great marital harmony; Nicholas standing behind Elizabeth, his hand on her shoulder as he looked down at her open sketchbook. Little Isabella cuddled on her father’s lap, while her mother leaned forward to tie her little slipper ribbon. Lady Kate dozed contentedly in a patch of sunlight.
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