Rogue Grooms

by Amanda McCabe

  As Emily turned over a queen, and Georgina handed over two of her own cards, Emily said, “It must be great fun to be in Town at this time of year.”

  Georgina shrugged. “I suppose it is, yes. There are certainly a great many balls and routs, and it is very good for my business! But I will tell you truly, Emily, the balls are generally so very crowded one can scarce breathe, let alone move or talk.”

  “Is there nothing fun about it?”

  “To be sure! Gunter’s has delicious ices, and there is always someone dressed absurdly at the opera to lend amusement. But I really only go there to see my dear friends, the Hollingsworths.”

  “Lady Elizabeth Hollingsworth? Who is an artist, too?”

  “Yes. We met at school, and have been good friends ever since.”

  “We often read of her and her husband in the papers. I should so much like to meet her.”

  “And so you shall! I am sure the two of you would like each other very much.”

  Emily handed over three cards when Georgina turned over a king, and said slowly, “I suppose you prefer Italy to England.”

  “In many ways I do. It is warmer there, for one,” Georgina laughed.

  “Then, you would not care to marry an Englishman?”

  Georgina looked up from her cards, surprised. She had not at all seen where this conversation was leading. Was Emily afraid Georgina would not marry Alex? Or was she afraid that Georgina would? “I think that I would perhaps feel differently if I had family in England.”

  Emily nodded, apparently satisfied. “I am sure you have many suitors in London.”

  “A few,” Georgina answered carefully. “Though I would scarce call them suitors. Admirers, perhaps. None that I would take seriously.”

  “How lovely it must be to have so many admirers,” Emily said wistfully as she sorted through the cards she had won.

  “But you must have every young swain of the neighborhood at your feet. Such a lovely girl as yourself,” answered Georgina. “I wager you could have your choice.”

  Emily shook her head. “We don’t often have the chance to go to an assembly or a supper. And when we do, there is a distinct lack of eligible beaux!” She laughed. “There is always Arthur Hoenig, of course. His father would be more than happy to be allied with the Kentons, but unfortunately, poor Arthur has smelly breath and spots!”

  Georgina laughed in turn. “Oh, Emily! I know you must have better prospects than that. Is there no young man you find to your liking? No one handsome and charming?”

  “Well ...” Emily hesitated. “Once there was—someone. But that was long ago. I was just a child.”

  “Really? Will you tell me about it?”

  Emily nodded. “When I was just twelve, our neighbor, the Earl of Darlinghurst, returned from India, where he had been for many years.”

  “And you admired this earl?”

  Emily’s eyes widened. “The earl? Lud, no! He was fifty if he was a day, and sunburned to a crisp. It was his son. David.”

  “Ah. I see. You had a tendre for this David?”

  “Not a tendre; I was just a child, of course. He was practically grown up, and scarce noticed me, except to pull my braid and tease me a bit. But he was so very handsome, quite the most handsome man I had ever seen. He had a voice like—like nothing I had ever heard. So rich and sweet, like a cup of chocolate.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was a great scandal. You see, the earl had married an Indian woman. The daughter of a maharaja, so they said. She had died soon after their son was born. So David was half-Indian.”

  “No!” Georgina gasped, fascinated.

  “Yes. I fear it was not quite comfortable for them in the neighborhood. He was an earl, so people felt they had to receive them, of course. But they were not exactly friendly to them, especially David. My parents stood as their only true friends. I believe that is why they returned to India, after little more than a year here.”

  “And you have never forgotten this David?”

  Emily shrugged. “We are rather isolated here, and I have few chances to meet such fascinating young men. It was only a schoolgirl crush, really, and I have not seen him since he left. I do not even know where he is now; far away in India, I am sure.”

  Dorothy, refreshed from her nap, came out onto the terrace, wheeled by her maid. “What are you speaking of so intently, my dears?” she said.

  “I was only telling Georgina about the Earl of Darlinghurst, Mother,” answered Emily.

  “Oh, yes,” said Dorothy. “What a charming gentleman he was! And such a handsome young son. William and I were so sad when they left the neighborhood, as I’m sure was Emily. Weren’t you, dear?”

  “Oh, yes, Mother. Very sad. Quite desolate at not having young David to pull my braids anymore.”

  “Such a great pity they did not stay to see you grown up.” Dorothy opened up her lap desk, and drew out some fresh lists. “Now, my dears, to important business. I have finished the guest list, but we must begin the menus. I do not really think we need forty or fifty removes, as I have read they have at Carlton House, but I do want there to be a choice. And we should have oysters...”

  “Where shall we find oysters at this time of year, Mother?” interrupted Alex, striding out onto the terrace, still in his riding clothes.

  “The fishmonger in the village will have plenty, of course, Alexander,” she replied as he bent to kiss her cheek. “We are scarcely living in the middle of nowhere, though it sometimes feels that way. And you are very dusty, dear.”

  “I apologize, Mother. I was on my way upstairs to wash when I heard you all talking out here. I wanted to see what you are so merry about.”

  Alex kissed Emily’s cheek, and bowed over Georgina’s hand. He was rather dusty, with mud on his boots and a slightly earthy smell about his coat. But Georgina thought she had never seen anything quite so lovely as his windswept hair and tanned, whisker-roughened jaw.

  He smiled down at her warmly.

  “We were discussing the supper your mother is to give,” Georgina answered him, with a smile of her own.

  “Of what else could we be speaking?” said Emily. “And Georgina has quite beggared me! You see, she has taken all my cards.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The day of the planned supper began warm and sunny. Emily even rode out to the fields with Alex, and Dorothy sequestered herself in the dining room with her maid, to see to the final arrangements. She shooed Georgina outside to the gardens, insisting that she needed no help.

  So Georgina took her sketchbook and went back to the summerhouse, where she had kissed Alex so sweetly. That night it had been dark, and she had not been able to see anything but their immediate surroundings. Today the sun was bright, and she had a full view of the gardens and the back of the house.

  It was a pleasing sight, despite the tangles of the flower beds and the spots of peeling paint. It was peaceful and calm, settled.

  All the things Georgina was not, and had always longed to be.

  Could she, despite her dreamings, really ever be a proper mistress to such a place? A proper duchess? She knew that her money would be useful to the Kentons, to Fair Oak. But could she herself be useful to them?

  Georgina chewed on her thumbnail, an old nervous habit, as old doubts rose up to plague her. When she was a child, living under her aunt and uncle’s cold care, she had often been told that she was unworthy. That she was wild, completely lacking in decorum and natural grace and beauty. That who she was was in no way good enough for polite society.

  She had fought down those insecurities with years of self-sufficiency and success in her chosen work. She knew that people admired her, even thought her beautiful. They thought her dashing and sophisticated.

  But that did not mean that she had completely fought back that frightened young girl. She still rose up to plague the grown-up Georgina from time to time.

  As she did now, when Georgina was contemplating what it would be like to be a
duchess.

  “Nonsense!” she cried aloud. “I would be a perfect duchess. Top of the trees.”

  She snapped open her sketchbook, flipped over to the almost completed sketch of Emily, and began to do what she knew she did best. She drew.

  “Now. Which gown would you like to wear?” Georgina threw open her wardrobe to Emily’s perusal.

  Emily’s eyes grew wide as she looked at first one gown then another. “I—I hardly know where to begin.” She took up the gold-embroidered green velvet that Georgina had worn at the first ball she attended with Alex. “This one?”

  Georgina studied it critically. “It doesn’t really suit your lovely blonde hair. Perhaps this one?” She showed Emily a gown of pale peach satin, overlaid with soft ivory lace. “I have never worn it. It suits you so much better than me!”

  “Oh, yes,” Emily sighed happily, clutching the gown to her. “May I, please, Georgina? It is quite the loveliest thing I have ever seen.”

  “Of course you may!”

  “And what will you wear?”

  “The blue silk, I think. Do you think it quite appropriate?”

  “I think you will be stunning. We will be the envy of all our neighbors, to have such a lovely and famous guest.”

  Georgina laughed. “You will be the envy of your neighbors because you are so lovely yourself! Sit here, Emily, and I will fix your hair for you. There is a new style I have seen in Town that I think will suit you admirably.”

  Emily sat down before the dressing table mirror, and watched with sparkling eyes as Georgina brushed out her curls and began twisting them atop her head. “I have a white rose I picked in the garden this afternoon,” she said. “Would that look well in my hair? I fear I have so few jewels.”

  “It would be perfect. Tell me, Emily, how was your afternoon? Did you ride far?”

  “Oh, yes! I showed Alex all the fields that are under cultivation, and a few that I hope to have plowed in the fall. Poor man, he does not know a great deal about farming as yet! He is such a military man. But he is learning.”

  Alex was utterly exhausted.

  He and Emily had been out all afternoon. He had seen the fields (few) that Emily had managed to keep under cultivation. He had seen the fields (many) that lay fallow. Emily had talked of possible plans for those fields, of barley and wheat and bringing in more sheep. They had spoken with the tenants, had heard their concerns and advice.

  Alex had learned more about farming in one day than he ever had before in his life, and he felt like an utter babe in the woods. As a younger son, he had been meant for the army since childhood. Thus his father had not thought it important for him to know about the running of the estates. But he intended to know everything about it now, and soon.

  He also learned that his sister, only a child when he had left for Spain, had grown into a beautiful young woman. A very smart young woman, who had taught herself about farming when her brothers were nowhere about to see to her welfare. She had kept Fair Oak in good order, and looked after their mother, at the expense of all the normal pleasures of a young lady.

  Emily knew so little of parties and suitors; she had few friends of her own age. She was clearly longing for those joys; she spoke so wistfully of London.

  It was no wonder she had attached herself so quickly to Georgina’s friendship.

  Alex owed Emily that friendship, owed her a fine Season, at the very least, for all she had done. His mother would never want to go to London again, so he owed Emily a grand sponsor. He owed her, and himself, to learn all he could about soil cultivation and sheep shearing, so that he could build the Grange into a kingdom any woman would be proud to be duchess of.

  Even a woman as glorious as Georgina Beaumont.

  Alex grinned at himself in the mirror as he finished off his cravat. Georgina would make a splendid duchess. He had known that in London, and seeing her here in his home, seeing how easy and friendly she was with his mother and sister, only proved that.

  Yes, he admitted to himself, he quite adored Georgina.

  If he could just be worthy of her.

  “Reverend Mr. Upton! Mrs. Upton. You must meet our new houseguest, Mrs. Beaumont,” called Dorothy from where she sat in the drawing room, greeting the guests before supper. As she smiled and chatted, her cheeks pink beneath the lappets of her lace cap, she looked no older than the woman in the Gainsborough portrait.

  “A great pleasure, Mrs. Beaumont,” said the vicar, a tall, thin, smiling man. “We saw a portrait you did of a friend of my aunt’s, a Lady Treezle. Quite fine, was it not, Mrs. Upton?”

  “Oh, quite!” agreed Mrs. Upton, a pretty blonde as short and plump as her husband was the opposite. “It was very like her, Mrs. Beaumont. We were so excited to hear that you were in the neighborhood.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Upton,” answered Georgina. “I have had such a delightful welcome from everyone.”

  “You must come to tea at the vicarage before you leave,” Mrs. Upton urged.

  “I should like that very much, thank you.” As the Uptons went on to speak to Dorothy about some new ladies’ charitable organization, Georgina stepped away a bit to survey the room.

  She had rather feared that her pearl necklace with its sapphire pendant and the sapphire bandeau that held her hair in place would prove too much for a country party. But she saw now that all the ladies wore their finest gowns and their prettiest jewels; Lady Anders even wore a tiara! And quite all the country gentry had flocked to the dowager duchess’s supper party, obviously eager to be at Fair Oak again. There was much conversation and laughter, and everyone had greeted her warmly, and even with a touch of deference.

  Deference was something Georgina was not accustomed to in the least, and she suspected that was entirely due to Alex’s behavior. He had stayed at her side as the first of the guests arrived, introduced her about.

  She smiled at him now, where he stood with his sister and a few other people. He smiled at her in return, and nodded. Then he winked.

  There was a small fluttering, very low in her stomach. She almost giggled, and clapped her gloved hand to her mouth.

  “Georgina, dear,” Dorothy said, bringing Georgina back to her side. “I do believe it is time for supper. Will you ask Alexander to come and assist me?”

  “Yes, of course,” she answered. “Do excuse me, Mr. Upton. Mrs. Upton.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Beaumont.” The vicar gave her a bow.

  As she walked away, Georgina heard Dorothy say, “You see how very much livelier we are since Mrs. Beaumont came to visit? Emily has quite blossomed. Such a treasure.”

  “Yes,” said Mr. Upton. “You—and your son—appear to be quite happy in your friends, Your Grace.”

  Georgina blushed.

  “An excellent port, Wayland,” Lord Anders commented. “Most excellent indeed.”

  “Thank you,” answered Alex. “I sent it back from Spain.”

  The ladies had retired to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port and cigars.

  “Shows your excellent taste,” Anders said, with a suggestive chuckle. “In port as in other things, eh?”

  “Other things?”

  “Women, of course, Wayland! La Beaumont. We have only recently come up from Town, you know, and she is all the crack there. A true beauty, and so dashing.” Anders laughed, bringing the attention of the others in their direction. “What other woman would challenge old Lord Pynchon to a race, eh!”

  There was an answering ripple of laughter. “She is a stunner,” commented young Baron Patterson. “That hair... !”

  Alex glared at Anders, just as he had to many an errant subaltern on the Peninsula. It had the same effect on Anders as it had on them—he stammered a bit, turned red, and shifted his gaze away.

  All the others turned back to their respective conversations.

  “You know, of course,” said Alex, “that Mrs. Beaumont was injured in that race. I hardly think she would appreciate that it has now become an object of laughter
.”

  “Oh—yes. I mean, no,” murmured Anders. “But—but she does seem quite recovered now.”

  “She is recovered. Quite. It is still not something to be snickered over, however.”

  “Oh, no! I was not—snickering. Merely expressing my admiration for her.”

  “Hm. Yes.”

  Anders took a long sip of his port, and seemed to recover himself. “I take it, then, Wayland, that your feelings toward La—Mrs. Beaumont are of a rather serious nature?”

  Alex was quite taken aback. Surely such bluntness was not quite the thing? It had certainly not been before he left for war; people had at least outwardly minded their own business. But then, he had been gone a long time. And, as he did not wish his feelings for Georgina to be in any way misconstrued, he said, “I brought her here to meet my mother and sister.”

  “Certainly.” Anders drank down the last of his port. “Well, I must say you are a very fortunate man, Wayland. She is beautiful, and, I hear, quite well-to-do.” He glanced toward the sideboard, now all but bare of silver where once it had groaned from the weight of salvers and platters. “Quite well-to-do.”

  Alex’s hand tightened on his own glass. He only released his grip when he felt the etched design pressing into his palm and the crystal start to give.

  Money again. Always the blasted money. Was this what he could look forward to for all his future married life?

  “We were all so delighted to hear that you had come to visit, Mrs. Beaumont.” Lady Anders, a tall brunette made even taller by the great plumes attached to her ruby tiara, seated herself next to Georgina with a smile. “And now to have the chance to meet you and see Fair Oak again! Beyond delight.”

  Georgina smiled in return, even though there was something in Lady Anders’ eyes she was rather wary of. Some sort of—malicious glitter. “I am delighted to be here.”

  “Though you must find it a bit dull after all your triumphs in Town,” Lady Anders whispered confidingly. “I know I find the society rather limited.”