CHAPTER FIVE
DURING THE NEXT WEEK, Georgiana had plenty of opportunity to develop her tactics for dealing socially with Viscount Alton. Contrary to her expectations, his lordship graced all the functions she and Bella attended. He was politely attentive. There was nothing in his behaviour to feed the flame she was valiantly trying to dampen. To her irration, she found that fact depressing. More than ever aware of the disparity of their stations, she doggedly reminded herself that a thick skin could only be obtained through exposure. Consequently, she did not shrink from contact with Lord Alton. Instead, whenever he asked her to dance—which he invariably did at least once, and, on one memorable occasion, twice—she endeavoured to amuse him with her observations on life in the ton. To her surprise, he seemed genuinely entertained by her comments. Indeed, he went out of his way to encourage her to air her opinions. Doubtless, she thought, it ensured he was not overcome with boredom in her otherwise unenlivening company.
Her own motive in maintaining a steady flow of conversation lay in distracting his lordship from the other peculiar responses he awoke in her. Breathlessness, often occurring with a unnerving sense of exhilaration, was the least of these. Sometimes she believed the thudding of her heart would be plainly audible if she weren’t covering the noise with her chatter. Thankfully, he had not yet noticed the tremors that ran through her at his slightest touch. She had hoped these would ease with time, with familiarity, as it were. Unfortunately, they were becoming more acute with each passing day; she went in dread of his remarking them.
Absorbed as she was with dealing with his lordship, by the time they climbed into their carriage each night to return to Green Street she was thoroughly worn out. Gradually, the strain grew, until, in order to preserve her defences for the evenings, she found herself forced to forgo the pleasures of the day. When she excused herself from the afternoon’s promenade for the second day in a row, Bella’s concern became overt.
“Georgie, I simply cannot bear to see you so pulled down.” Bella plumped herself down on the chaise-longue beside her friend. Georgiana was listlessly plying her needle, setting the occasional stitch in a piece of fine embroidery. Bella glanced anxiously into her face. “You aren’t going into a decline, are you?”
Despite her tiredness, Georgiana grinned. “Of course not.” After a moment she added, “I assure you I’ve no intention of pining away. It’s just that I find the…the tension of the evening entertainments draining.”
Born and bred to such things, Bella could not readily imagine being drained by a ball. However, she was not without sympathy. She frowned as she mulled over the matter. “We could cut down a trifle, perhaps. The Minchintons’ ball is on Friday—we need not go to that, I suppose.”
But curtailing Bella’s activities because of her own weakness was further than Georgiana was prepared to go. She was supposed to be Bella’s companion, not an inhibiting influence. “Don’t be a goose,” she replied, her tone affectionate but firm. “I’m only feeling a bit low, that’s all. I dare say if I make a special effort I’ll be fine by this evening.” She paused. “On second thoughts, perhaps some fresh air would help. If you’ll wait, I’ll get my bonnet and come with you.”
“Of course.” Bella smiled encouragingly.
But as soon as Georgiana disappeared through the door, the frown return to Bella’s face. Far from reassuring her, Georgiana’s rapid about-face convinced her that her friend was endeavouring, however unsuccessfully, to conceal the true effect of her hopeless love. Who knew to what depths of misery Georgie descended when no one was by? Bella fretted over the problem, rendered more acute by the restraint she felt in confiding in anyone. Arthur was her long-time mentor, but in this case Bella felt she would need Georgiana’s permission before revealing her friend’s state to him.
Georgiana’s footsteps sounded in the hall. With a sigh, Bella rose and picked up her discarded bonnet, absent-mindedly swinging it by its long aqua ribbons. She sorely needed advice. Then, in one instant of blinding clarity, she saw the answer. Dominic. He knew all of Georgiana’s background. And, after all, Georgiana herself had seen fit, at the very outset, to confide in him.
When Georgiana stuck her head around the door, Bella grinned widely. “Yes, I’m coming,” she called and, feeling much more light-hearted, all but tripped from the room.
“PLEASE, DOMINIC. I really must talk to you. Privately.” Bella put every ounce of sisterly need into her gaze as it rested on her brother’s handsome face. But his habitually bored mask showed no evidence of lifting. In fact, she noted, he regarded her even more dubiously than he had before her plea.
“I warn you, Bella, I need no lectures from you.”
Far from striking fear into her heart and stifling her request as intended, his precise tones made her relax and give a dismissive smile.
“Not about that! I want to talk to you about Georgiana.”
“Oh!” Dominic followed her gaze to the object of their discussion, twirling gaily about the dance-floor in Harry Edgcombe’s arms. Then the piercingly blue eyes swung back to Bella. “What about Miss Hartley?”
Bella looked at the knots of people surrounding them. “Not here.” She glanced impishly up at him. “Don’t you know of an alcove where we might be alone?”
The blue eyes glinted down at her. “Don’t be impudent.” He caught her hand and drew it through his arm. “As it happens,” he said, leading her through the crowd, “I do. But I can’t spare too many minutes. I’m engaged to dance with Miss Hartley myself, two dances hence.”
“It won’t take long,” Bella promised.
The small ante-room Dominic led her to was thankfully empty. She sank on to a well padded sofa. Dominic elected to stand, leaning one blue-silk-clad arm along the mantelpiece. “Perceive me all ears, dear sister.”
Bella eyed him suspiciously, but could detect no hint of the sarcasm he frequently employed when irritated. “As I said, it’s about Georgiana.” Now she came to it, she found herself short of the necessary words.
“Has she discovered Arthur’s little deception and become difficult?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” Bella frowned, then, sensing Dominic’s growing impatience, she abandoned her efforts to find the best phrasing and blurted out, “She’s fallen in love.”
For a moment, she wondered whether he had heard. His face showed no reaction to her words; he seemed frozen, petrified. Then his black brows rose. “I see.” He turned aside, resettling the fine lace on his cuff. “It is, after all, not an uncommon happening. Who is the lucky man?”
“That’s just it. She won’t say.”
Dominic’s eyes rested thoughtfully on his sister’s dark head. “And you imagine, as she won’t divulge his name, he must therefore be in some way unsuitable.”
“No, that’s not it either.” Bella glanced up to find her brother’s eyes full on her, irritation fermenting in their blue depths. She hastened to explain. “He’s not unsuitable in the way you mean. But it seems she’s fallen irrevocably in love with a man who’s about to offer for another. She says he doesn’t know she’s in love with him. I’ve tried to get her to confide in me, but she won’t. She says I know him so it wouldn’t be fair.”
Dominic digested this information in silence. Then, abruptly, he pushed away from the mantelpiece and paced across the room. Returning, he looked again at his sister. “How, then, am I supposed to help? I do take it I’m supposed to help?”
Bella smiled, a trifle warily. “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t think you could help. I want you to find out who Georgie’s gentleman is.”
Dominic’s brows flew. “That all?”
At his tone, Bella’s face fell. “But you must be able to guess. Who is it whom I know is about to marry? Or at least offer for someone. You men always know such titbits before it’s common knowledge.”
Pacing once more, Dominic considered his acquaintance. He knew all the gentlemen his sister was on speaking terms with, and would very li
kely know if any were contemplating matrimony. “Unfortunately, to my knowledge, no one fits the bill.”
Twisting her fingers anxiously, Bella ventured, “I had wondered whether it was Lord Edgcombe.”
“Harry?” Dominic paused, then shook his head. “Not likely. He does have to marry in the not overly distant future or risk his family hauling him to the altar themselves. But he must marry money, and I doubt Miss Hartley’s prospects fit his bill.”
“But couldn’t she have fallen in love with him anyway? He’s certainly personable enough.”
Again, Dominic gave the matter his consideration. Again, he shook his head. “Harry has no plans to marry yet awhile. I doubt he’d even mention the possibility to a young lady circumstanced as Miss Hartley is. And, certainly, he would not have suggested he’s about to do the deed.” He uttered a short laugh. “Not even to escape a snare would Harry bring up the subject of marriage.”
Bella sighed. “So you can’t guess either.” Disheartened, she stood and shook out her skirts.
Dominic hadn’t moved from his stance in the middle of the floor. Now he looked shrewdly at Bella. “What prompted you to ask for help?”
Bella shrugged. “It’s just that Georgie’s so wan and listless nowadays.”
“Listless?” her brother echoed, the vision of Miss Hartley as he had last seen her vivid in his mind. “I’ve rarely seen anyone less listless.”
“Oh, not in the evenings. She seems quite lively then. But during the day she’s drawn and quiet. Her looks will suffer if she goes on as she is. If only she would accept Mr Havelock.”
“Havelock? Has he offered for her?”
Bella frowned at the odd note in her brother’s voice. It was not like Dominic to be so insultingly disbelieving. “Yes,” she averred. “Not only Mr Havelock, but Lord Danby and Viscount Molesworth. And Lord Ellsmere, too!”
For once, she had the satisfaction of knowing she had stunned her brother. Dominic’s brows rose to astronomical heights. “Good lord!”
After a moment, his puzzled gaze swung back to her face. “And she refused them all? Even Julian?”
Bella nodded decisively. “Even Lord Ellsmere.” She looked down at her hands, clasped schoolgirl fashion before her. “I don’t know what I’m to do, for there’s bound to be more offers. They can’t seem to help themselves.”
She looked up to see her brother’s shoulders shaking. Bella glared. “It’s not funny!”
Dominic waved one white hand placatingly. “Oh, Bella! Would that all women had a sense of humour like Miss Hartley’s. I assure you she would see the oddity in such a situation.”
Bella was puzzled by her brother’s far-away smile. But before she drummed up enough courage to ask what prospect it was that so fascinated him, he came back to earth. “And, speaking of Miss Hartley, we must, I’m afraid, return to the ballroom.”
Falling into step beside him, Bella tucked her hand in his arm. “You will try to discover who he is, won’t you?”
Dominic’s eyes glinted steely blue. “Fear not, Bella mine. I’ll give it my most earnest consideration.”
And with that Bella had perforce to be content.
IT WAS WELL AFTER midnight when Dominic returned to Grosvenor Square. He let himself in with his latchkey. In the large tiled hall, shadows danced about a single candle burning in a brass holder on the central table. He had long ago broken his staff of their preferred habit of lying in wait for him to return from his evening entertainments. Picking up the candle, he stood at the foot of the stairs, contemplating the broad upward sweep. Then he turned aside and made for a polished door to one side of the hall.
The fire in the library was a glowing mass of coals. He lit the candles in the large candelabrum on the mantelpiece before crouching to carefully balance a fresh log on the embers. After a little encouragement, the flames started to lick along the dry wood.
Standing, he stretched, then crossed to the sideboard. A balloon of fine brandy in one hand, he returned to the wing-chair by the fireplace and settled his cold feet on the fender.
Georgiana Hartley. Undoubtedly the most beguiling female he had met in over a decade on the town. And she was in love with another man. Furthermore, she was in love with a man who didn’t even have the good sense to love her. Ridiculous!
Dominic stared into the flames. For what felt like the six hundreth time, he tried to make himself believe that his interest in Miss Hartley didn’t exist. But he had travelled that road before and had given up weeks ago. What he had yet to discover was what his interest in Georgiana Hartley portended.
He couldn’t believe it was love. Not after all these years. His experience of the opposite sex was as extensive as hers was negligible. And he had never felt the slightest inclination to succumb to any of the proffered lures. Why on earth should he suddenly wish to entangle himself with a young woman barely free of the schoolroom?
Yet he could not get her out of his mind. Her heart-shaped face and honey-gold eyes inhabited his thoughts to the exclusion of almost everything else. He had underestimated the strength of his distraction when he had returned from Candlewick to Brighton. The chit had unexpected depths. Her eyes, like a siren’s song, beckoned with a promise he found difficult to resist. Luckily he had realised his state before Elaine had precipitated any renewal of their intimacy. She had, predictably, reacted badly to his withdrawal.
Light from the flames gilded the spines of the leather-covered tomes on the shelves which stretched away into darkness on either side of the fireplace. Dominic took a sip of his brandy, then sank his chin into his cravat, cradling the glass between his hands. He had no regrets about Elaine. In truth, his desire for her had waned before the advent of Georgiana Hartley had banished all thought of illicit dalliance from his mind. A smile of gentle malice touched his lips. Doubtless Elaine would suffer due embarrassment as a result of her posturing. It had been her plan to use public knowledge of their relationship to pressure him into making her aspirations come true. She had been most indiscreet. Lionel, Lord Worthington, his guardian prior to his attaining his majority, had even been moved to post to Candlewick to dissuade him from contracting a mésalliance, on account of the bluster of a trollop’s long tongue. No, he had no sympathy for such as Elaine Changley.
The fire crackled and hissed as the fresh log settled. With a sensation akin to relief, he turned his mind from the past to contemplate the nebulous future. What did his feelings for Georgiana Hartley mean? Did they amount to anything more than infatuation, regrettable but harmless and, most importantly, transient? Would the lovely Georgiana fade from his mind in six months’ time, as Elaine Changley had? These were the questions that tormented him. They had forced him to return to London, to assuage a need he did not wish to acknowledge. Yet, after a week in the capital, he was no nearer the answers.
The only truth he had uncovered was that his normally even temperament was now somehow dependent on Miss Georgiana Hartley’s smile.
He dropped his head back against the deeply padded leather. He had tried to tell himself she was too young, little more than a schoolgirl. Any liaison between them would be virtually cradle-snatching. But, whenever he thought along such lines, Arthur’s and Bella’s happiness would rise up to mock him. And, even worse, Georgiana no longer looked like a schoolgirl. Every time they met, Fancon’s gowns, or, rather, the delectable shape they displayed, shredded his well rehearsed rationalisations.
But enough was enough. According to Bella, Georgiana was making herself ill over some no-hoper. He had no right to intervene. Not, that was, unless he wished to take their interaction further, to make some positive move in her direction. And that, he was not yet prepared to do.
If Bella, or anyone else, got a whiff of his possible intentions, there would be no chance of wooing her in private. Their every meeting would be watched over by dozens of gimlet eyes. Every word, every expression would be duly noted and analysed. He couldn’t subject her to that, not when he wasn’t sure what he wanted of her. br />
Experience, however, was on his side. If he wished, he did not doubt he could create the necessary opportunities to advance his cause, without alerting every gossip-monger in the ton. He smiled. There was an undeniable challenge in such an enterprise. The snag was, he was not yet sure. Not sure of what he felt for her. Not sure of what he would do once he was certain the odd feeling in his chest was more than infatuation.
It had taken him three weeks to reach his present state of acknowledged indecision. He had no intention of enduring the situation for much longer, particularly if Georgiana threatened to pine away before his very eyes. Still, how did one test an infatuation? Never having suffered such an emotion before, he had no real idea how to proceed.
The clock in the corner ticked ponderously, marking his heartbeats. His eyes grew unfocused as he stared at the flames slowly dying around the charred log. Finally he stirred. He drained his glass, then rose to return it to the tray. He relighted his bedroom candle at the candelabrum, then snuffed the five long candles it held.
In the soft flickering light of the single flame, he made his way to the door.
If he wanted to burn out his obsession with Georgiana Hartley, there was only one way to go about it. He needed to meet with her often, in every possible context, to see all her faults and blemishes, the little incompatibilities which would reduce her status in his mind to one of a mere acquaintance. That was the only way forward.
And, if it proved to be more than infatuation, it was high time he faced up to the truth. And acted.
“I TOLD YOU everyone would be here.” Bella stopped on the lawn below the terrace. Tucking her furled parasol under one arm, she retied the strings of her new bonnet in a jaunty bow beneath one ear. “Lady Jersey’s entertainments are always well attended, particularly when they’re held here.”