Richard indicated to Hobbs that the port and cigars should be handed to the other gentlemen first, while he sat contentedly finishing the last of his glass of red wine. He watched Lord Hugh drinking heavily.
Alex and Louis, he was well acquainted with; however, he and Alex were also well acquainted with Lord Hugh’s reputation. He wondered how he would keep his cool and maintain friendliness with the man when Alex struck up the conversation.
“I was surprised that your sister’s husband, Lord Fotheringhay, was not invited,” he said, earnestly attempting to light a cigar.
“I believe Lady Matlock did invite my brother-in-law. However,” Louis closed his eyes and shook his head, “he very rarely ventures into society unless an invitation comes from one of his peers.”
“I’m very disappointed to hear it,” Alex replied, dragging hard on the cigar now it was lit.
“Your sister is happily settled, one supposes. It is a very happy match, is it not? After all, he is a member of the House of Lords.” Alex prodded further.
“As my dear sister tells it, it is the worst decision she’s ever made,” Louis laughed, waving Hobbs on to fill his glass more than the butler deemed appropriate. “I don’t need to tell you he’s old enough to be her father but is as rich as Croesus. She is just one of those silly romantic types, I suppose.”
“I quite like it that Rebecca has romantic notions,” Alex added. “In fact, I find those notions add a little extra to our relationship. I think it is lamentable that part of your sister’s character is not satisfied.”
“Tish! Who cares if that part of a woman’s character is satisfied or not,” Lord Hugh scoffed, adding his tuppence worth. “Women’s heads are full of such ridiculous notions, are they not?”
“Like love, marriage, and fidelity?” Richard could not resist adding.
“Ha!” Lord Hugh almost choked on his port. “Of course, love and marriage. They are part of one’s duty, are they not?”
No one answered, but the other three gentlemen watched on as Lord Hugh clipped the end of his cigar and lit it, waiting for him to continue.
“But fidelity…come on!” He puffed a perfect ‘oh’ of smoke up into the air and watched as it floated towards the candelabra hanging from the ceiling. “No man can be expected to keep faithful, surely. Those vows are just ridiculous promises made in church to keep our womenfolk quiet, aren’t they?”
“I, for one, shall take my vow of fidelity seriously,” Alex replied, dangerously quiet.
Richard observed closely as Lord Hugh looked at Alex as though he had grown a second head.
“How singular!”
Alex looked quite offended. “Do you mean to say that, if you were to take a bride, you would not remain faithful to her?”
“Of course not! What fool of a man would?” His eyes challenged Alex across the table.
“So you would keep a mistress?” Louis asked, his brows knit together in one heavy line.
“I would not give up my fancies, as I like to call them.” Lord Hugh sniffed. “The whole point in getting married is to continue the family line and, in so doing, hopefully bring a little more cash into the family coffers at the same time.”
Richard felt his anger rise. The chair creaked as he squeezed the arm hard. That is not just drunken folly talking.
“When I marry, and I do intend to marry,” Lord Hugh continued, “I shall marry a woman of wealth and of good breeding. I shall marry one who is handsome enough to keep me entertained long enough to produce progeny, and then I shall skedaddle back to London to indulge in my fancies.” He dragged on his cigar.
While puffing his, Richard lost all taste for smoking. He discarded the barely touched cigar into an ashtray. He’s talking about Georgiana. He intends to marry Georgiana and discard her once she has produced him an heir. Richard felt sick to his stomach. He scowled, swirling the remainder of the port in his glass.
Alex pushed the subject further. “What about the misfortune and possible embarrassment to your family if any of your mistresses have children?”
“What of it?” Lord Hugh shrugged. “As Father says, my responsibility lies only with my family. If any of my mistresses are foolish enough to get themselves with child, what is that to me?”
“Are you saying that you bear no responsibility whatsoever if any of your mistresses are pregnant?” Richard growled, his timbre low.
“What do you mean, if?” Lord Hugh guffawed.
Louis pushed his chair backward, coming to his feet. “You mean you already have a by-blow?”
“So what if I have? Haven’t we all?” Lord Hugh continued to laugh loudly. No one else joined in.
Richard stood up. “I believe it is time we joined the ladies.”
“Yes, we must do our duty and not keep them waiting,” Lord Hugh replied, stubbing out his cigar, draining the last of his port and taking another glassful before rising.
Richard hung back as Lord Hugh exited, staggering tipsily.
“Dear God!” Louis sighed. “Doesn’t he have his sights on your cousin, Miss Darcy?”
“Indeed, he has,” Alex replied, making no attempt to hide the anger in his voice.
“Not for long,” Richard added, stomping out of the room.
* * *
Once the gentlemen had joined the ladies in the drawing room, tea was served, and Lady Francesca suggested a game of charades. It was not something Georgiana was particularly talented at, so she was happy to allow their guests the limelight.
Again, she found Lord Hugh sitting beside her, overly attentive as usual, although she was convinced he was intoxicated. He made sure she had enough tea to drink and continuously asked her if she wanted anything more to eat or if she would like to move closer to the fire. “I’m quite all right, thank you,” she replied repeatedly, trying to focus on the game and not Lord Hugh.
Georgiana laughed hard throughout the game, and finally Louis and Lady Francesca were declared joint winners.
“I declare, I do not know the last time I had such fun!” Lady Francesca called out to the room at large as she plumped herself down on the settee.
Georgiana had to agree. “I did not realise we were in company of some of Britain’s greatest actors!” she commented breathlessly.
“I believe the only thing to make this a perfect night,” Lady Fotheringhay joined, “is that if someone would play that beautiful instrument in the corner and we could dance.”
Lady Francesca sat bolt upright. “Oh, what a splendid idea!” She swivelled around, and her eyes came to rest upon Aunt Henrietta.
Georgiana watched excitedly as her aunt guessed what Lady Francesca was about to ask.
“Would you, Lady Matlock?” Lady Francesca begged, pouting a little.
“You wish for me to play the spinet so that you young folk may dance?” Aunt Henrietta asked, barely concealing a smile.
“I have heard tell of what an excellent musician you are, Lady Matlock,” Lady Francesca pushed her suit.
Georgiana was amused to see a blush rise upon her aunt’s ageing cheeks.
“Very well,” Aunt Henrietta responded, her eyes twinkling with merriment.
Georgiana arose from the settee, allowing the gentlemen to move the furniture to the edges of the room as Aunt Henrietta approached the mature instrument. She remembered as a child, staying with her aunt and uncle, that her aunt would play for hours. Music always filled their home. Every time they gathered as a family, it was Aunt Henrietta who stepped forward, the first to begin to play.
She did not ask which pieces of music the younger members of the party wanted to dance to. Instead, she immediately began to play the introduction to the piece Georgiana recognised as Le Fugitif, and all eight of those standing formed the quadrille and waited to begin.
To her astonishment, she discovered that she and Richard were the first pair to begin. She felt a little self-conscious as she trotted forward to meet Richard in the centre of the circle. However, as the others tapped their feet, clap
ped their hands, or moved gently to the music, Georgiana began to relax and enjoy it. It was the first time she had been in such close proximity to Richard in hours.
As the dance moved around each couple in turn, Georgiana noticed Lord Hugh doing his utmost to catch her eye and move as close to her as he physically could.
Georgiana breathed a sigh of relief when the dance was over, only to hear Aunt Henrietta begin to play Marmion. Again, Richard was faster than Lord Hugh in asking her to dance.
She caught sight of Lord Hugh’s face and was persuaded she saw more than a little anger written upon it.
“You know, cousin, you ought to let me dance with the other gentlemen in the room. It is not politic to keep me all to yourself.”
Richard laughed as they took their places. It was not until they passed close enough to each other that he could reply. “If I send you with the other gentlemen in the room, then I would not only deprive myself of the best dancer here for a partner, but I’d then have to dance with Lady Francesca.”
Georgiana could not help but laugh. They were in two sets of four for this particular country dance, but Lady Francesca was not in theirs. Glancing at the said lady as she skipped past, Georgiana was left in no doubt that the Duke’s daughter was irritated with having to dance with Louis Ashton. Unfortunately, spying upon Lady Francesca meant she was looking at the other set of four dancers and not taking care of where she was stepping. She almost crashed into Alex.
“Pay attention,” Richard laughed, taking hold of her by the shoulders and putting her back on course.
With her cheeks burning with embarrassment, Georgiana concentrated on the dance, hoping no one had noticed. Lamentably, she caught sight of the smirk on Lord Hugh’s face and suspected he would believe she was keeping her eyes firmly on him instead of giving her own dance partner her full attention.
By the time that dance finished, Georgiana was ready for refreshments. That desire was dashed when the cry of “Another” went up and Aunt Henrietta began to play The Adieu.
This time she and Richard danced in still closer proximity, and they had more time to talk. She was somewhat disappointed, though, when all he did was exchange pleasantries with her. She frowned up at his face, trying to fathom what he was about, when she saw the flicker of something deep, longing, and passionate in his eyes which made her step falter.
She was not naïve; she knew what that look meant. She was, nevertheless, surprised to see it in Richard. The even greater surprise was the reaction produced within her. Her heart began to beat faster, her breathing became shallower, and not because of the dance. She felt a lightning bolt strike straight through her to her deepest, innermost parts.
As a dance progressed, each time they passed each other and moved in unison, they closed the gap between each other. Georgiana was held mesmerised by his eyes. The desire building within her left her powerless to resist. She knew full well what she was feeling and could see emblazoned in Richard’s eyes the same mounting hunger.
The dancers passed by in a blur until suddenly everything came to a stop. The room continued to spin. Richard caught her before she stumbled to the floor. She could see her own feeling of alarm mirrored in his eyes. He wants me as I want him, she thought, more than a little terrified of the intensity of it all.
Richard stepped back, bowed, and allowed another to take her hand for the next dance. Georgiana barely heard the music, let alone recognised with whom she was dancing. Her eyes, her mind, and her heart were firmly fixed upon Richard.
“Hang it all, Miss Darcy!” Lord Hugh’s voice cut through the haze, bringing Georgiana back to the moment. “Are you dancing with me at all? Your head seems to be in the clouds.” He pouted.
“I do beg your pardon, Lord Hugh,” Georgiana responded, trying her hardest to snap out of it and join in the dance.
“I should jolly well hope so! A man could be quite put off by being ignored like this.” His pout deepened as he whined.
Georgiana resisted the impulse to tell him she had already apologised, not wishing to inflate his ego any further than it already was.
He shuffled up closer to her as they moved around the room. Her instinct was to recoil. What she felt when Lord Hugh moved his body against her was a far cry from what she felt when Richard did it. Again, the thought of Richard sent the bolt of lightning through her stomach to the core of her being.
“What do you say to us stepping out onto the veranda at the back of the house to get a little bit of fresh air?” Lord Hugh asked.
Despite being overheated from dancing so long, Georgiana shivered as his eyes traced to the mounds of her breasts and along the cleavage between them. “I do not believe it would be a sensible idea to be outside in this weather for very long,” she replied, grasping at straws.
“Nonsense! People do it all the time.”
She looked up at him mustering as much defiance as she could. “But I do not.”
“Dash it, Miss Darcy! Anyone would think that you’re not violently in love with me!” He said loudly enough for the other couple to overhear.
She noticed Alex glaring at her. She wanted to scream. She had been flattered by Lord Hugh’s attentions and for a moment she had lost her head. Perhaps she had erred in her behaviour towards and with him, but now it seems the man was unable to take the slightest hint of her indifference.
As they continued to dance, Alex glowered at her. She had no idea what she had done to offend him so, but his obvious ire upset her. Spinning around, she saw Richard dancing with Lady Francesca. Was he dancing as closely and as passionately with her as he had with Georgiana? Her stomach lurched. She felt sick.
Thankfully, the music stopped, the dance finished, and Georgiana fled from the room. She needed air. She needed to be able to breathe. She needed to think.
Eighteen
Richard did not know how he made it through the evening after dancing with Georgiana. His passions were inflamed. To fill his mind with something other than the carnal thoughts it was consumed with now, he gave in and danced with Lady Francesca. The lady could not have been happier. Richard believed she left everyone in the room with no doubt as to where her affections lay.
With every twist and turn, with every pass of their bodies, Lady Francesca did everything in her power to touch him. He would have to be a simpleton indeed to miss the message she was sending.
He kept his eyes firmly on his dancing partner, but his attention and his mind were still with Georgiana. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her looking decidedly uncomfortable dancing with Lord Hugh. They were deep in conversation, it seemed, and Richard wished he knew what they were talking about.
His mind flashed back to Margaret Ainsworth, now styling herself Mrs Murray, and her little boy, Walter, and anger welled up inside him. He was astonished at how quick an antidote to passion his fury was. Now he wished, more than ever, to know what Lord Hugh was whispering to Georgiana as they danced.
He could only surmise that whatever it was, the lady was not impressed. As his mother finished playing on the spinet and the dance came to a stop, Georgiana fled the room. Thankfully, she was unseen by most. The dancers were hot and in need of refreshment. Richard rang the bell and, as soon as Hobbs arrived, he called for tea to be served. He did not see Lord Hugh slip out of the room after his cousin.
* * *
Georgiana fled directly to the dining room. She stood before the tiny tree on the sideboard and wondered how they had managed to stuff so many little paper roses between its branches. The poor thing looks veritably swamped.
Less than a minute ago, and rather loudly, Lord Hugh had said he believed she was violently in love with him. Mentally she kicked herself for being such a fool. She stamped her foot and groaned with the agony of it. She was not in love with Lord Hugh. She knew that more than ever now. But somehow within the last couple of weeks, and such a short acquaintance, Lord Hugh had decided they were both violently in love with each other.
Georgiana tensed. She grip
ped the edge of the sideboard until her knuckles went white at the sound of footfalls behind her. She was filled with dread. Instinctively, she knew it was Lord Hugh.
“There you are, my little petal.”
His words made her skin crawl and she shivered.
“Are you cold? Shall I fetch your shawl?”
Planting the most pleasant smile she could muster on her face, Georgiana slowly turned around. “Why, Lord Hugh, that would be very kind of you, but I am not cold. I am overheated from the dancing.”
As he took a step towards her, she sidestepped nearer the dining table.
“I must say,” his voice a little husky, “that you do dance exceedingly well, dearest Georgiana. You’ve quite got my passions up.”
She wished with all her heart they had not agreed to call each other by their first names when in private. She had promised herself she would never be so foolish as she had been with George Wickham. But now here she was in this situation, feeling just as imprudent, having acted naïvely. “Thank you. I have been blessed with some of the best tutors.”
Lord Hugh chuckled and shifted his weight to lean closer. “I do not believe your excellence at dancing is to be attributed to the superiority of your tutors. I believe that is all your own natural talent, my dear.”
It was meant as a compliment, but each word he uttered made her throat drier. “Oh, you flatter me,” she replied, moving further to the left and putting a dining chair between them.
Lord Hugh laughed. “Of course I flatter you, my sweet. I intend to flatter you every day for the rest of our lives.”
Georgiana’s stomach somersaulted backwards. She did not know if she would faint or vomit. Her mind taunted her. She wondered what her brother would say to her about the pickle she had got herself into.
“Are you quite well?” he asked, reaching for her.
“I…perhaps I have simply overexerted myself this evening,” she lifted her shoulder, avoiding his touch.
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