The three men he had been playing against got up and left, grumbling.
“Sore losers. They’re everywhere.”
Richard and Alex sat down at the table and helped George count his winnings.
“Can you blame them?” Richard asked.
“I play fairly and honestly. They’ve had every opportunity to beat me.” George guffawed and shoved the cigar back into his mouth.
Once all the winnings were counted, Richard whistled long and low. “Three hundred and forty pounds,” he muttered under his breath. “You made that all in one night?”
“Yup!” George was clearly pleased with himself and looked like the cat who had got the cream. “I think I’ll call it a night, though.”
He nodded to one or two of the other tables, and Richard and Alex furtively surveyed the remainder.
“It appears I’m making myself quite a number of enemies,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Methinks I’ve exhausted my avenue of income tonight.”
“Not to mention the fact this is supposed to be a charity ball,” Alex whispered in response.
“I paid for my ticket!” George flicked the ash off the end of his cigar onto the floor. “What more do they want?”
Richard carefully laid his hands over the stack of notes on the table and pushed them towards his friend. “Perhaps it would be politic and generous of you to make a sizeable donation.” He glanced around the room one more time. “It might go some way to turning the tide of opinion that is currently against you.”
George eyeballed him for a moment, sucking hard on his cigar, making the end light up a deep, dark reddish orange. “Always the diplomat, eh, Richard?” After a moment, George nodded in agreement. “You are right, though. I will donate, and I jolly well will make sure this lot see me doing it.”
As one of the charity volunteers passed by with a collection pail, George made a show of standing up, counting out one hundred pounds, and making sure everyone in the room saw him putting it into the bucket.
He sat back down at the table and stubbed out the balance of his cigar into the ashtray. “So how’s your evening going?”
Twenty-one
Feeling refreshed, Georgiana was ready to dance again and hoped Richard would return soon. Instead, the re-emergence of one particular gentleman made her heart sink.
“Miss Darcy,” Lord Hugh bowed low before her.
Georgiana swallowed but had no desire to smile.
“I wonder if you might give me the pleasure, and honour, of dancing with me?” he asked, his voice curt and words clipped.
Nervously, Georgiana looked to Aunt Henrietta for help. Unfortunately, her aunt merely nodded, her expression declaring, “Go on, then!!”
Georgiana’s spirits plummeted. She had promised herself and Richard that she would never dance with Lord Hugh again, and yet here she was faced with a dilemma. If she refused him, he might very well cause another scene or, worse still, force himself upon her again. Yet there was one opportunity that dancing with him afforded her—the chance to speak with him and set the record straight between them.
Georgiana squared her jaw, bracing herself for close contact with the man she was now beginning to despise. “Very well,” she replied brusquely. “Just this once, then.”
Anger flickered in his eyes, and Georgiana knew full well that he was barely controlling it. He held out his hand and Georgiana took it, resting hers so lightly upon it, she gave only the appearance of holding his hand.
Lord Hugh, regrettably, closed his fingers around hers and gripped her so tightly she yelped in pain.
“That hurts!” She glowered at him.
He did not respond. Instead, he pulled her to the dance floor where a cotillion had just begun.
They took their places and Georgiana found she could not bear to even look at him. Nevertheless, Lord Hugh initiated conversation. Georgiana had to respond; otherwise, she might never have another occasion to do so.
“I must say you have treated me despicably, Miss Darcy.”
Georgiana’s head snapped around, her eyes throwing daggers at him. “I have treated you despicably?”
“Indeed, you have.” The look of superiority on his face turned Georgiana stomach. “You cannot deny there was something between us. In fact, there is still something between us, I daresay.”
Georgiana did not rise to the bait but continued to dance.
“We are in love, Georgiana.”
Inwardly, Georgiana groaned. He is using my Christian name again. I wish he wouldn’t. She regretted giving him permission to do so. It was an intimacy she no longer wanted.
“We had an understanding, did we not?”
Georgiana’s jaw dropped open. “We most certainly did not, Lord Hugh!”
She watched as he rolled his eyes and tilted his head backwards, groaning as though in pain. The two couples in their set watched them closely. Georgiana ignored their attention but knew there was nothing society liked more than a good scandal and a jolly good bit of gossip about it.
“Oh, dearest Georgiana! How could you be so callous to a fellow?” He raised his voice so the other couples could hear.
She wanted to scream at him to stop but knew he wouldn’t. She debated walking away from the dance but, alas, that would add gravitas to his words.
“We had an understanding, and you know it,” he hissed, passing close to her ear. “Now you’ve gone cold on me.”
Georgiana did her level best to concentrate on the steps of the dance, but his words pounded in her ears.
“I do not take kindly to being jilted, Georgiana.”
Georgiana stopped dancing causing two of the others in their set to crash into her. She glared at Lord Hugh, her fists clenched by her side. “There is no understanding between us and there never was. It is all a flight of fancy on your part. We are not engaged to be married, and I have most certainly not jilted you, Lord Hugh. Your imagination has run away with you, and this must stop here and now.”
She did not wait to hear his reply. She turned on her heel and marched out of the room. She did not stop walking, shoving her way past the patrons, until she reached the front door. She burst through it and clung on to the stone balustrade for dear life. She willed her lungs to take in air. She shook from head to foot with anger, and tears poured down her cheeks. “What a dreadful odious man!” she sobbed.
* * *
Upon his return from the gaming room with Alex and George, Richard made a beeline for his mother. They found her and Rebecca sitting together, deep in conversation.
His mother looked up at him, evidently pleased to see him. “There you are, Richard! Dear Miss Hawkins and I had just begun to think we were deserted by our menfolk.”
Richard bowed. “Forgive me, Mama. I went in search of George here,” he turned to the side indicating his friend. “I found him at the gaming tables, raising funds for the charity, no less.”
“Oh, how delightful!” She clapped her hands together with glee, turning her attention to George. “And might I enquire how much you raised?”
George puffed out his chest and stuck his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat. “Aye, ma’am, you may. I raised no less than one hundred pounds for the benevolence fund.”
“That is wonderful!” Both she and Rebecca seemed delighted.
Alex led his fiancée away to dance once again, and Richard looked about him for Georgiana while George took a seat next to Richard’s mother.
“Mama, where is Georgiana?” he asked.
“She’s dancing, isn’t she?” Lady Matlock replied, craning her head to see past the revellers to the dance floor.
“Not that I can see,” Richard replied, growing concerned. “With whom was she dancing?” he asked, fearing he already knew the answer to that question.
“Why, with Lord Hugh, of course!” His mother replied as though that were obvious. “They are sweethearts after all, are they not?”
Richard spun around and glared pointedly at his mother. She shrunk
away from his glare. “No, Mother. They most certainly are not sweethearts. Be under no illusion on that score.”
His mother opened and closed her mouth repeatedly. “But, I…”
“I know what you thought, Mama. And I most certainly know what Lord Hugh has led us to believe is true. But there is no understanding between them, they are not sweethearts, and Georgiana most certainly has no intention of marrying him.” Richard was not entirely sure. Everything he said he had surmised from her looks and tears the day before.
“We are deceived?” She looked scandalised.
“Indeed, we are.” Richard returned to looking for his cousin. With every passing second, he grew increasingly concerned for her safety. He could not see either of them amongst the dancers. Oh, dear God! Where could they possibly be?
Richard was not naïve. He was a man of the world. He served in His Majesty’s army for long enough to know the dangers that could befall a young innocent girl under the spell of a blackguard. He also knew first-hand what Lord Hugh was capable of. In his mind he saw Margaret Ainsworth’s tearstained face, her little baby in her arms. A barely constrained anger built up inside him. If there was anything that years of service had taught Richard, it was to abhor and to fight against injustice wherever he found it.
He lifted his head and beheld the ornately plastered ceiling. He knew this building well. He had been to countless balls and soirées here. He knew there were rooms above stairs. And he was well aware of what went on behind those closed doors.
His throat went dry.
He looked down at his mother momentarily. “Will you be all right here if I go off and look for her?”
His mother sat staring at him, her hands on her chest, and her face pale with worry. “Please do go and search for her. Bring her back.” She groaned. “Oh, that poor dear girl. What must she think of me for believing she was enamoured of him!” Her bottom lip trembled. “I scolded her something fierce, didn’t I?”
Richard’s expression softened. “Do not worry yourself, Mama. We both believed there was an understanding between them, did we not?”
Lady Matlock nodded. “I was so excited to think that she was in love that I did not even stop to think whether it was true or not.” She shook her head from side to side, closing her eyes. “I should have known. No one can fall in love that quickly. Attraction comes first; love comes after.”
Richard leant forward and kissed his mother on the cheek. “I’m certain they have merely gone for refreshments. I shall be back presently.” He smiled, turned around, and made his way across the anteroom. His destination was the staircase in the grand entrance hall.
He did not believe that Georgiana was the kind of girl to so easily fall prey to the lusts of a hot-blooded male. However, he did most certainly believe Lord Hugh was capable of any kind of deception, and, after what he saw the previous night, he believed him capable of forcing himself on her.
His blood ran cold as he took the stairs two at a time, knowing that he must open as many doors as he could and peer inside. He had seen many bloody sites on the battlefield—men with limbs blown off and those even worse, the unrecognisable—but he did not know if he possessed the stomach to see what he suspected lay waiting for him inside those upstairs rooms. Especially not if Georgiana was involved.
Richard marched along the landing hallway, his footsteps muffled in the carpet runner. He tried doorknob after doorknob, but they were locked. His panic beginning to rise, he redoubled his efforts, bursting through a door he was surprised to find unlocked.
The shouts and cheers from within caused him to recoil. The mass of heaving bodies on the bed, rugs, and other furniture sent him reeling backwards. He slammed the door closed again. Clearly, no one was policing the event. The women inside looked to him to be ladies of the night.
He took a deep breath and dashed on to the next one.
Every door he opened, he came up with a blank. Georgiana and Lord Hugh were nowhere to be seen. Part of him hoped they were indeed below stairs taking refreshments somewhere; most of him still believed that behind one of the remaining doors, he would find Lord Hugh. He paused, bracing himself against the doorframe. His stomach flipped over, and he thought he would vomit. His affection for Georgiana had grown exponentially recently, and the very thought of her in Lord Hughes arms repulsed him. He had no idea whatsoever whether she would ever come to love him as dearly as he was beginning to love her, but he would never, ever wish for her to wind up with the same fate as Margaret Ainsworth.
That reflection buoyed him up. He tried the last remaining few door handles, but it was to no avail. They too were locked.
Richard stood staring at the final door. If Lord Hugh was not behind this door with Georgiana, then perhaps she was safe. He clung on to that as he reached for the knob.
Turning it slowly, he heard it click, and then he pushed it.
Richard averted his eyes at the sight of the young woman’s garter holding up her stocking. A gentleman stood between her thighs, his breeches around his ankles.
Richard’s throat clamped shut. His knees weakened beneath him. He clutched the door to hold himself up.
The woman saw him first. She squealed with delight. “’Ello darlin’ want to join in, do ya?” she cackled at him. “It’ll be extra!”
Richard turned to leave, sickened at the sight, but the sound of the gentleman’s voice bellowing at him to get out stopped him in his tracks, freezing his blood. It was Lord Hugh.
When he was able to look in their direction, and sufficiently in control of his emotions, he glowered at Lord Hugh long enough for the man to see the anger burning within his eyes.
“Are you deaf? I said get out!” Lord Hugh hollered.
Richard wasn’t listening. He had one thing on his mind. “Where’s Georgiana?” he bellowed back.
Lord Hugh shrugged. “How the hell should I know?” he spat. “She ran off and left me.”
Lord Hugh’s words filled Richard with a twisted sort of satisfaction. He left, slamming the door behind him. As he did so, Lord Hugh yelled, “Trust me, she won’t get away with this so easily!”
Richard’s mind reeled as he sprinted down the steps. Wherever Georgiana is, at least I know she is out of Lord Hugh’s grasp filled his senses while Lord Hugh’s parting words echoed in his mind.
As he reached the bottom step, he saw Alex’s hand waving at him from above the crowd. He made his way to where Alex and Rebecca stood next to an ornate fountain of a fish spurting water out of its mouth. Alex pointed towards the front doors.
Richard needed no other explanation. He knew on the other side of the doors he would find the woman he loved.
As he burst through the double doors, a cold icy blast of wintry air hitting him full in the face and chest. There, standing with her back to him, leaning on the balustrade, was Georgiana. The relief that flooded through his body made him want to laugh out loud. Instead, he crossed the short distance between them, pulled her away from the rail, spun her around, and enfolded her in his arms.
At first, she resisted when he tugged at her shoulders; but as soon as she saw who it was, she flung herself into his embrace.
There was no need for words. Richard could not find them even if he had wanted to. His only overwhelming desire was to hold her tightly and know that she was completely safe with him. He did not want to ever let her go.
It wasn’t long before he realised that she was sobbing. He suspected he knew the reason, but now was not the place or the time to ask. He held her close and let her weep as he kissed the top of her head.
It was a few minutes before the tears abated. She sniffled into his waistcoat, clinging on to him for dear life. They remained thus for some time.
As the frigid night seeped into their bones, she looked up at him pleadingly with a tearstained face and asked, “Can we go home now?”
Richard nodded. “Of course,” he replied, bent his head, and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
Twenty-two
Richard groggily rolled over in bed and kicked the blankets off. “Dear God, it’s freezing!” The shock of the cold snapped him wide awake.
He stuffed his feet into his slippers, grabbed his dressing gown, pulled it tightly around him, and shuffled to his bedroom door.
“What is it, Hobbs?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir.” Hobbs susurrated through the crack in the door. “But we’ve got a bit of the situation.”
Richard opened the door wider and let the man in. He rubbed his hands together, shivering. “Is anyone awake to light me a fire? I can see my own breath.”
“That is what I want to speak to you about, sir.”
Richard looked the man up and down. Not only was the man dressed in pyjamas and dressing gown, but he had his greatcoat on and wore thick socks. “Right. Go on.”
“The temperature, sir. It’s plunged since we all retired for the night.”
Richard nodded. That much was obvious.
“With my estimations, sir, we only have enough coal to last to the end of the day. The house is frozen.” The man looked tired and worry-worn.
“Then procure some more tomorrow morning.” Richard shrugged, wishing he could go back to bed.
“That’s just it, Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir. The whole of London will be suffering in this cold snap. I’ve woken up the chambermaids. They’ll light fires in the family bedrooms as soon as they are ready.” Hobbs hesitated.
“And…”
“I wondered if I could have permission to venture out and purchase coal now.”
Richard almost burst out laughing. “My dear man, if you believe you need to get more coal in, then do it. In the future, don’t wake me and ask me. If it is this desperate, then just go. I trust you, Hobbs, to make the right decision.
Hobbs’ expression of concern was immediately wiped away by relief. “Thank you, sir.”
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