“Relieve my curiosity, my dear. What could possibly be so interesting that you needs must be alone with the noble Viscount?”
Georgiana opened her eyes wide. “Why, we were merely strolling, my lord.”
The grey gaze remained on her face for a full minute. Then his lips curved once more. “I see.” After a moment he added, his voice low, “I don’t suppose you feel like taking a stroll with me.”
Georgiana’s eyes danced. Keeping her face straight, she shook her head primly. “Oh, no, my lord. I don’t think that would be at all wise.”
They executed a complicated turn at the end of the room, pausing to allow two younger and more enthusiastic couples to pass by. When they were once more proceeding up the long room, his lordship’s attention refocused. “Now why is that, I wonder? Surely you don’t mean to say that you fear my company would be less…scintillating than the Viscount’s?”
Georgiana laughed lightly, her eyes still holding his. “Oh, no—far from it. My fear is more that your company might prove rather too scintillating, my lord.”
Lord Edgcombe was no more immune to the flattery of a beautiful young woman than the next man, even if he fully understood her machinations. So he smiled again, sharing in her laughter. “My dear, you’re a minx. But a delightful minx, so I’ll let you escape the set-down you undoubtedly deserve.”
Schooling her features to reflect a suitable gratitude, and reducing her voice to a breathless whisper, Georgiana replied, “Oh, thank you, my lord.”
“Gammon!” said Lord Edgcombe.
Returning three dances later to Bella’s side, Georgiana was given no time to draw breath. Her mentor immediately demanded to be told what Viscount Molesworth had had to say.
Georgiana regarded Bella warily. “He proposed.”
“And?” Bella’s face was alight.
Georgiana knew it was her friend’s dearest wish that she contract a suitable alliance, and Viscount Molesworth was certainly that. But she had no real ambition to marry where she did not love, not even for her best friend. So she drew a deep breath and confessed. “I refused him.”
“Oh.” Bella’s face fell. “But why?”
Seeing the real consternation in Bella’s big eyes—eyes that constantly reminded her of another—Georgiana was tempted to make a clean breast of it. But the approach of the gentleman to whom she was promised for the next dance reminded her of their surroundings. “I’ll explain later. Not now. Please, Bella?”
Now Bella saw Mr Millikens and smiled and nodded, adding in an undertone for Georgiana’s ears only, “Yes, of course. Later. But Georgie, we really must talk of this.”
Georgiana nodded her agreement and moved forward to take Mr Millikens’s arm.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur before Georgiana’s eyes. She spent much of her time examining and assessing the changes the past two weeks had wrought in her life. Arthur’s quietly worded request that she remain in Green Street, theoretically a guest, but in truth as a companion for Bella, had been a turning point. His explanation of Bella’s need for purpose in an otherwise frivolous existence had struck a chord of sympathy. After that, she had no longer pursued the idea of finding employment with an older lady. Bella, of course, was kept in ignorance of the arrangement, for it was generally only much older women who had companions.
That first night at Almack’s had set the seal on her success. From that evening, a steady flow of invitations had poured into Green Street, and she and Bella had been immersed in a tide of balls and parties, routs and breakfasts. Her popularity, both with the gentlemen and the ladies of society, had made Bella crow. For her part, Georgiana wryly thanked her less than perfect looks. Because she was no beauty, she was not a challenge to the reigning incomparables. Thus she was accepted without any great fuss, nor was she the butt of any jealousies. Her natural vivacity, which, thanks to Lady Winterspoon and Beau Brummel, she had discovered, carried her through. In her heart, she strongly suspected it was this, together with her unconventionally un-missish behaviour, which made her so attractive to the gentlemen. Certainly, they flocked about her. And, if she were to be truthful, she could not deny a happy little glow of self-satisfaction whenever she thought of her court. She might not be a hit, or a beauty, but she had her own little niche, her own place in the scheme of things. As Lady Winterspoon had suggested, there were many roads to success.
They were among the last to leave the ball. As she had anticipated, Bella returned to the subject of Viscount Molesworth as soon as the carriage door was shut upon them.
“Why, Georgie? I thought you liked him.”
Georgiana leant back against the fine leather upholstery and resigned herself to the inevitable. “Viscount Molesworth is all that is amiable. But truly, Bella, do you think that’s enough?”
“Enough? But, my dear, many girls marry with far less than—er—liking for their husbands.”
Georgiana stifled a sigh. She would have to try to make Bella understand. “Bella, did you marry like that?”
Bella shifted in her seat, her satin skirts shushing. “Well, no. But…well, you know it’s not the done thing, to marry for love. And,” she hurried on, “you’ve no idea the trouble I had, in marrying Arthur. No one could understand it. Oh, it’s accepted now. But if Dominic had opposed the match everyone would have agreed with him. Love is simply not a…a determining factor in marriage in the ton.”
Hearing the sincere note in Bella’s voice, Georgiana debated whether to tell her the truth. But, even as the idea formed, she shied away from it. Instead she tried another tack. “But you see, dearest Bella, I didn’t come to London to marry. I’ve given no thought to marrying into the ton. I’m not at all sure it would suit me.”
To this, Bella returned a decidedly unladylike snort. “Not marry? Pray tell, what else are you going to do with your life? Oh—don’t tell me you’ll be a companion to some old lady. You’ll never convince me you would rather be that than married to some nice, considerate gentleman who’ll shower you with everything you desire.”
Under cover of the dark, Georgiana grinned. Well, she was a companion, although Bella didn’t know it and the lady wasn’t old. But would she really prefer to be married, regardless of the man, to have to tend to the comfort and consequence of some faceless gentleman? Georgiana sighed. “You make it all sound so straightforward.”
“It is straightforward. It’s simply a matter of making up your mind to it and then, when a suitable gentleman comes along, saying yes instead of no.”
Georgiana gave a weary giggle. “Well, if the right gentleman comes along, I’ll promise to consider it.”
Bella wisely refrained from further pushing, hopeful that she had at least made her errant protégée think more deeply on her future position within the ton. For Bella was quite determined her Georgie should marry well. She was attractive, which was more to the purpose than beautiful. And the gentlemen liked her—as evidenced by three proposals within two weeks. She had held great hopes of Mr Havelock, but Georgie had refused him without a blink. All she could do now was to hope Georgie’s elusive right gentleman came along before her protégée got the reputation of being difficult to please.
A GENTLE BREEZE cooled Georgiana’s warm cheeks as she accompanied Lord Ellsmere back to his phaeton. She deployed her sunshade to deflect the glances of any curious passers-by as they left the secluded walk and crossed the lawns to the carriageway. Her hand resting gently on his sleeve, she cast a tentative glance up into his lordship’s handsome face. He was watching her and, catching her gaze, smiled ruefully.
“Forgive me, my dear, if my actions seem somewhat importunate. You’ll have to make allowances for my—er—strong feelings in this matter.”
For the first time since that night at Almack’s, now more than three weeks ago, Georgiana felt flustered. Only this morning she had been congratulating herself on having managed to keep her earnest suitors from making any further declarations. How could she have guessed what his lordship had plann
ed in the guise of a perfectly decorous drive in the park?
“Oh, yes, of course,” she muttered incoherently. She noticed his lordship’s slightly smug expression, and her temper, usually dormant, stirred. As she allowed him to help her up to the high seat of the phaeton, she made a heroic effort to pull herself together.
She could hardly claim that no gentleman had tried to kiss her before. But, in Italy, the flowery speeches and extravagant gestures that usually preceded such an attempt gave any lady all the warning she could need, should she wish to avoid the outcome. But Lord Ellsmere had given no indication of his intent. One minute they had been strolling comfortably along a secluded walk, screened by the lush growths of a long summer from the more populated carriageway and lawns, and the next she had been trapped in his arms, quite unable to free herself—not that she had struggled, stunned as she had been. Lord Ellsmere had, unfortunately, taken her lack of reaction for acquiescence and acted accordingly. Then she had struggled.
To give him his due, Lord Ellsmere had immediately released her, only to capture her hand. He had then proceeded to declare his undying love for her, to Georgiana’s utter confusion. Her mind had been miles distant before he had acted, and she had struggled to manage even the most feeble disclaimer.
And now, of course, he merely felt he had acted precipitately and swept her off her feet. He had made it clear he did not accept her refusal of his suit. He would, he had said, live in the hope she would, with time, see its advantages.
As he climbed to the seat beside her, Georgiana turned impulsively towards him. “My lord…”
Lord Ellsmere’s eyes followed his diminutive tiger as the boy left the horses’ heads to swing up behind them. Then he turned and smiled at Georgiana. “I’ll see you at the ball tonight, my dear. We’ll continue our discussion then, when you’ve had more time to consider.”
His words were kindly, and Georgiana inwardly groaned. This was precisely the sort of situation she had been trying to avoid. But with the tiger behind, she could do nothing other than acquiesce to his lordship’s plan.
In truth, as she felt the cooling breeze ripple past, she welcomed the time to marshal her arguments better. Lord Ellsmere was not Mr Havelock, nor Viscount Molesworth. He had every right to expect her serious consideration of his suit. He was eminently eligible—title, fortune, property and connections. Oh, heavens! What would Bella say this time?
Any thoughts Georgiana might have entertained of keeping her latest offer from her friend died a swift death when, re-entering Winsmere House, she made her way to the back parlour. Bella was there, reclining on the sofa, flicking through the pages of the latest Ladies’ Journal. She looked up as Georgiana entered. And frowned.
“I thought you were driving with Lord Ellsmere.”
Georgiana turned aside to lay her bonnet on a chair. “I was.”
Bella’s frown deepened. “Didn’t he come in?”
“No.” Georgiana would have liked to add an excuse which would explain this lapse of good manners on his lordship’s part, but could think of nothing to the point. Under Bella’s close scrutiny, she coloured.
“Georgie! Never say it! He’s offered?’ Bella sat up abruptly, the magazine sliding unheeded from her lap.
Bright cheeks made it unnecessary for Georgiana to answer.
“Oh, my dear! Ellsmere! Whoever would have thought it? Why, he’s…” Georgiana’s lack of response suddenly struck Bella. She stopped in mid-exclamation, disbelief chasing elation from her face. “Oh, no!” she moaned, falling back against the cushions. “You’ve refused him!”
Georgiana smiled weakly, almost apologetically. But she wasn’t to be let off lightly. Not this time.
Half an hour later, Bella threw her hands up in the air in defeat. “But I still don’t understand! Danby was one thing; even Mr Havelock I could sympathise with. But Molesworth…and now, of all men, Ellsmere. Georgie, you’ll never live it down. No one will believe you’re turning Ellsmere down for the ridiculous reason that you aren’t in love with him. They’ll start saying there’s something wrong with you, I know they will.” Bella’s voice quavered on the edge of tears.
Georgiana wasn’t entirely composed herself. But she endeavoured to keep her tone even as she replied, “But I don’t mean to make them propose. I do everything I can think of to avoid it.”
Bella frowned, aware this was so. She had watched her protégée like a hen with one chick, and had puzzled over Georgiana’s apparent uninterest in her suitors as suitors, rather than acquaintances. To her mind, the offers were coming in thick and fast precisely because, in comparison with most of the other débutantes, the gentlemen found Georgie so comfortable to be with. Then the oddity in Georgiana’s declaration struck her. Her head came up. “Why don’t you wish them to become attached? You can’t possibly have decided you can’t love any of them. You can’t expect me to believe you truly consider the single state preferable to being married.”
There was no possibility of avoiding Bella’s stern gaze. Georgiana had, in fact, spent the last weeks fantasising on marriage, albeit marriage to one particular gentleman. She felt her cheeks warm as she blushed guiltily.
And Bella, being Bella, and every bit as impulsive as Georgiana herself, immediately leapt to the correct conclusion. “Oh, Georgie!” she wailed. “You haven’t formed a…a tendre for some unsuitable gentleman, have you?”
Driven to the truth, Georgiana nodded dully.
“But who?” Bella was nonplussed. She had conscientiously vetted those to whom she introduced Georgiana. There had been no one unsuitable. None of the truly dangerous blades had approached her, and, in the circles they frequented, there was precious little chance for any outsider to gain access to her charge. So who was this mysterious man?
“He’s not actually unsuitable, exactly,” put in Georgiana, anticipating Bella’s train of thought. At her friend’s interrogative glance, she looked down at her hands, clasped tightly together in her lap, and continued, “It’s more a case of…of unrequited love. I fell in love with him, but he doesn’t love me.”
“Well, then,” said Bella, perking up at this, “we’ll just have to see to it that he changes his mind.”
“No!” squeaked Georgiana. She drew a deep breath and went on more calmly, “You don’t understand. He doesn’t know I love him.”
Bella looked thunderstruck. Then, after a moment, she ventured, “Well, why not tell him? Oh, not in words. But there are ways to these things, you know.”
But Georgiana was adamantly shaking her head. “He’s in love with someone else. In fact,” she added, hoping to shut off the terrifying prospect Bella seemed set on exploring, “he’s about to offer for another.”
“Oh.” Bella digested this unwelcome news, a frown settling over her delicate face. For the life of her, she still could not fathom who Georgie’s mystery man could be. In the end, she looked again at Georgiana where she sat on a chair, twisting the ribbons of her bonnet in her fingers, an uncharacteristically desolate look in her eyes.
Bella’s kind heart was touched. She had been thrilled at Arthur’s scheme to hire Georgiana as her companion and truly grateful for the way Georgie had tactfully gone along with the charade. Inwardly, she vowed she would do everything possible to learn who it was who had stolen Georgie’s heart and, if possible, change his mind. Unlike Georgiana, she did not imagine a man about to contract an alliance was necessarily in love with his prospective bride. Hence, she did not consider Georgie’s case lost. But, if it was, she must look to protect her friend’s best interests. She now knew enough of Georgiana to know she would never consider alternatives until, perhaps, it was too late. So, in a gentle way, Bella asked, “I don’t mean to pry, my dear. But do you not feel you could tell me who the gentleman is?”
Georgiana hung her head. Her feelings of guilt were increasing by the minute. How could she repay Bella’s kindness in this way? How could she tell Bella she was in love with her brother? Slowly she shook her head. Then, feeling som
e explanation was due, she said, “You know him, you see. And, as I said, he doesn’t know I love him. I…think it would be unfair to tell you—unfair to you and unfair to him.”
Bella nodded understandingly. “I won’t push you, then. But perhaps, in the circumstances, it would be best if I spoke to Lord Ellsmere this evening.” Georgiana’s startled look had Bella hurrying on. “Oh, I won’t tell him what you’ve told me. But there are ways and means. I’ll just hint him away. It would be best, I think, for all concerned if I had a word with him.”
Georgiana thought over this offer. Perhaps, in this case, she would be wise to accept Bella’s superior knowledge of how things were done. She raised her eyes to her friend’s blue gaze, wishing, for the umpteenth time, that Bella and her brother had taken after different parents in that respect. “If you don’t mind speaking to him…”
“Not at all.” Bella rose and impulsively hugged Georgiana. “Now! I’m going to ring for tea, and we’ll talk about something quite different.”
Georgiana summoned a smile and tried to tell herself that the peculiar emptiness within was only hunger.
TWO HOURS LATER Georgiana escaped to the sanctuary of her chamber. She did not ring for Cruickshank, wishing only to lie down and rest her aching head.
Quite when it was that she had finally realised she was in love with Lord Alton she could not be sure. Certainly, her social success and the proposals of Lord Danby and Mr Havelock had precipitated her thoughts on marriage. Only then had her feelings crystallised and gained substance. But, given that Lord Alton was so much older than she, and was shortly to marry Lady Changley, aside from having no inkling of her attachment and certainly no reciprocal emotions, she had originally decided her infatuation, for surely that was all it could be, was bound to pass. In such circumstances, and knowing Lord Alton was unlikely to spend much time in his sister’s house, or dancing attendance on them, she had not seen her position as Bella’s companion to be in any way compromised.