As Bella’s catalogue ran its course, Georgiana realised she could not just up and flee to Italy tomorrow, much as she might wish to. She had made a bargain with Arthur, who had stood her friend when she had been in need. She could not shrug off her indebtedness. So she would have to see out the rest of the Season with what interest she could muster, trying not to dampen Bella’s enjoyment with her own unhappiness.
She apparently returned sufficiently accurate, if monosyllabic, responses to Bella’s opinions, for they rose from the breakfast-table in perfect amity.
“Oh, Georgie! I nearly forgot. Dominic noticed you looked a bit peaked last night, so he’s coming to take you for a drive this afternoon.”
Bella had preceded Georgiana through the door, so did not see the effect her announcement had on her friend.
“It’s really a great honour, you know. I can’t even remember the last lady Dominic took up for a drive in the park. He doesn’t normally do so—says it’s too boring. You must wear your new carriage dress; it’ll be just the thing.”
Reaching the parlour, Bella turned expectantly.
Georgiana had had enough time to school her features to a weak smile. “I really don’t know if—”
“Oh, nonsense!” said Bella, dismissing whatever megrim Georgiana had taken into her head. “Some fresh air is just what you need to blow the cobwebs away.”
Sinking on to the window seat and taking up her embroidery frame, Georgiana could not think of any reasonable excuse to decline Lord Alton’s invitation. At least, not without explaining a great deal more of the situation to Bella. And that she was definitely not up to doing. Quite clearly, Bella was still in the dark regarding the state of affairs between her brother and her protégée.
Throughout the day, Georgiana formulated and discarded a string of plans to avoid the afternoon drive. In the end, her schemes became so wildly far-fetched that her sense of humour came to her rescue. What on earth did she imagine he’d do to her in the sanctity of the park? Besides, she knew him too well to believe he’d do anything scandalous—at least, not with her. She spent a moment in dim regret over that point, then determinedly stiffened her spine. She would go with him and hope to impress on him that she did not wish to see him again. Perhaps, with one major effort, she could avoid having to live with the dread of dancing with him at every evening entertainment, of being held in his arms, with his blue gaze warming her.
With a despairing sigh, she went upstairs to change.
Cruickshank was waiting with the carriage dress laid out. Having seen the sudden change in her mistress, and having more than a suspicion of the cause, Cruickshank fretted and snorted over every pleat in the elegant brown velvet dress with its snug-fitting jacket. Georgiana, knowing she could hide little from her maid’s sharp eyes, was thankful to escape her chamber without a lecture. As she descended the curving staircase, the villager hat she had chosen dangling by its ribbons from one hand, Georgiana imagined such a scene, and what Cruickshank might actually say. The possibilities brought a smile to her face, the first for the day.
A sudden tingling brought her head up. Her eyes met blue—bright blue. Lord Alton was standing in the hall below, Bella by his side, watching her. For an instant she froze. Then, drawing what courage she could from knowing she looked as well as might be, Georgiana descended to the hall and placed her hand in his, curtsying demurely.
He raised her and carried her hand to his lips, and there was no doubt of the warmth in his gaze. Georgiana blushed vividly; her heart fluttered wildly. She had forgotten how devastatingly charming he could be.
She turned to Bella, who remained rooted to the spot, an arrested look on an otherwise blank face. But before Georgiana could make any comment, Dominic said, “We’ll be back in about an hour, Bella.” And, with a nod for his sister, he firmly escorted Georgiana outside.
Handed into a curricle of the very latest design, Georgiana quickly tied her hat over her curls. The breeze was brisk, stirring the manes of the two black horses stamping and sidling between the shafts. A small tiger held their heads. Dominic climbed up beside her and, with a flick of the reins, they were off, the tiger scrambling for his perch behind.
As he threaded his team through the traffic, Dominic realised that his supposedly straightforward plan to have an hour’s quiet conversation with his love had already run off the tracks. For a start, there were no horses which could be described as docile in his stables. Until the present, this had not proved a problem. The pair he had unthinkingly requested be harnessed to the curricle were Welsh thoroughbreds, perfectly capable of stomping on anyone or anything they took exception to. And they had not been out for days and would willingly run a hundred miles if he would just drop his hands and give them their heads. Stifling a sigh, he gave them his undivided attention.
Once the park gates were reached, he set the horses to a trot, letting them stretch their legs at least that much. They tossed their heads impatiently, but eventually responded to the firm hand on the reins and accepted their lot. Only then did he turn to view his second hurdle. What on earth had possessed her to wear that hat? He knew perfectly well that the outfit she wore—the very latest in carriage wear—should have been completed by a tight-fitting cloche, perhaps with a small feather or cockade on the brim. The temptation to tell her as much burned his tongue, but he left the words unsaid. At the moment, he did not think a demonstration of his familiarity with feminine apparel was likely to further his cause.
“Someone is waving to you.”
Dominic looked about and returned the salutation, ignoring the invitation to draw up his carriage by Lady Molesworth’s barouche.
Georgiana’s fingers were clutching her reticule so tightly that she could feel the thin metal brim twisting. She wished he would say something, or that she could think of a safe topic to discuss. Finally, sheer desperation drove her to say, “I believe the weather is turning more cold…” only to hear her voice clash with his.
They both fell silent.
Dominic glanced down at the top of her hat and grimaced. Without being able to see her face, he felt he was groping in the dark. He dropped his voice to a softer tone. “Georgiana, my dear, what’s wrong?”
His experience with his sister, on top of his extensive expertise in related spheres, enabled him to get the tone just right, so that Georgiana felt that if he said another word in such a gentle way she would burst into tears in the middle of the park and shame them both. She waved her small hands in distress. “My lord… Please…” She had no idea what to say. Her mind wouldn’t function, and her senses, traitorous things, were too much occupied with manifestations of his presence other than his conversation. “There’s nothing wrong,” she eventually managed in a very small voice.
Swallowing his frustration, Dominic wondered just what he had expected to achieve with a question like that in the middle of the park. He should have guessed that whatever it was that had upset her would prove too distressing to discuss reasonably in such surroundings. The situation wanted improving, and he would get rid of that hat, too.
Without the least effort, he instituted a conversation on recent events, none of which could be construed as in any way disturbing. Gradually, he won a response from Georgiana.
Grateful for his understanding, and believing the worst was behind her, Georgiana set about recovering her composure, and her wits, eventually contributing her half of the conversation. As they bowled along, the horses’ hoofs scattering the autumn leaves, the breeze whisked past her cheeks, bringing crisp colour to hide her pallor. Bella had been right: fresh air was just what she needed. By the time they had completed their first circuit, she was chattering animatedly when, to her surprise, the curricle headed for the gates. They had been out for less than half an hour. “Where are we going?”
“Back to Green Street,” came the uncompromising reply. “I want to talk to you.”
The ride back to Winsmere House was, not surprisingly, accomplished in silence. Georgiana stole one
glance up at Dominic’s face, but, as usual, his features told her nothing.
The curricle swayed to a halt. Before she could attempt to climb down, he was there, lifting her effortlessly to the pavement. Breathless, she stood for one moment within the circle of his arms and dared to look up into his face. “There’s really no need—”
“There’s every need.” Dominic’s face remained shuttered. His hand at her elbow drew her up the steps.
Georgiana, trembling inwardly with an odd mixture of exhilaration and sheer terror, drew a deep breath and swung to face him. “My lord—”
“Ah, Johnson.”
Georgiana turned to find the door open and Bella’s butler bowing deferentially. The next instant she was in the hall.
“We’ll use the drawing-room, I think.”
Borne inexorably over the threshold, Georgiana gave up all hope of avoiding the coming interview and crossed the room, her fingers fumbling with the ribbons of her hat.
Dominic shut the door and watched with relief as she cast the offending headgear aside. He moved to a side-table and stripped off his driving gloves, dropping them on the polished surface.
“Now—”
The door opened.
“There you are!” Bella came tripping over the threshold, big eyes bright.
Georgiana looked on her with undisguised relief.
Dominic looked on her with undisguised irritation. “Go away, Bella.”
Brought up short, Bella turned to stare at him. “Go away? But whatever—?”
“Bella!” The dire warning in his voice was enough to send Bella about and start her for the door. Then she remembered she was in her own house and no longer needed to heed her brother’s orders. She stopped, but before she could turn again a large hand in the small of her back propelled her out of the room.
The drawing-room door shut with a sharp click. Stunned, totally bewildered, Bella turned to stare at its uninformative panels.
Inside, Dominic turned to find Georgiana regarding him with distinct trepidation. Wondering how long his patience was going to last, he crossed the room and took her hands in his, covering her cold fingers with his warm ones. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to eat you.”
Georgiana smiled weakly.
“But you are going to tell me what’s wrong.”
Glancing wildly up at him, eyes wide, Georgiana drew breath to reiterate that there was nothing wrong, when she caught his sceptical look and fell silent.
“Precisely.” Dominic nodded sternly. “I’m not addlepated enough to swallow any tale you might concoct, so the truth, if you please.”
Standing there, her hands warm in his, the temptation to cast herself on his broad chest and sob out all her woes was dreadfully strong. In desperation, Georgiana sought for some way out, some tale he would accept for her not seeing him again. But another upward glance under her lashes convinced her the task was hopeless.
“It’s… It’s just that our…our association has become sufficiently marked that people might start talking and…” Her voice trailed away altogether.
She looked up to find an oddly amused expression on Dominic’s face.
He smiled. “Actually, our association has, until today, been sufficiently well hidden. However, I dare say they will start talking now.”
Distracted, Georgiana frowned. “You mean after our drive in the park?”
Still amused, Dominic nodded. “That. And tonight.” At Georgiana’s puzzled look, he explained, “It’s the Rigdons’ ball. And as from now, I’m going to be so very attentive to you that even the blindest of the gossips will know my intentions.”
“Your intentions?” Georgiana’s voice had risen strangely.
Dominic regarded her with some slight annoyance. “My intentions,” he repeated. After a moment he sighed and went on, “I know I haven’t proposed, but surely, Georgiana, you are not so scatter-brained you don’t know I’m in love with you and intend asking you to marry me?”
Georgiana stared at him. Of course she knew he intended to marry her. But that he loved her? No, she knew that wasn’t right. Gently, she tried to ease her hands from his, but he would not allow it.
Dominic frowned. “Georgiana, love, what is the matter?”
Becoming more nervous by the minute, Georgiana shook her head, not daring to look up at him. “I can’t marry you, my lord.” There, she had said it. “Whyever not?”
The calm question took her breath away. Inwardly Georgiana groaned. She closed her eyes and wished herself anywhere but where she was. Yet when she opened them again, a pair of large, well formed hands were still clasped firmly around hers. She risked a glance upwards. He was calmly waiting for an answer. Nothing in his face or stance suggested he would let her go without one.
Dominic stood silently and hoped she would hurry up. The effort of keeping his hands on hers, rather than sweeping her into his arms and kissing away whatever ridiculous notions she had taken into her head, was draining his resolution. In the end, he repeated his question. “Why can’t you marry me?”
Georgiana drew a deep breath, closed her eyes, and said quite clearly, “Because you’re in love with Lady Changley and were planning to marry her.”
Sheer surprise kept Dominic immobile and slackened his hold on her fingers.
Instantly Georgiana whisked away and, on a broken sob, rushed from the room.
Even after the door closed behind her, Dominic made no move to follow her. How on earth had she come to that marvellous conclusion? How on earth had she learned of Elaine Changley? Feeling remarkably sane for a man who had just had his first ever proposal thrown in his face, before he had uttered it, Dominic strolled to the sofa and sat down, the better to examine his love’s strange ideas.
Within a minute a subtle smile was curving his lips. Another minute saw him chuckling. So that was what all this fuss was about. His ex-mistress. It really was absurd. Undoubtedly Elaine would be thrilled if she ever knew she was the cause of such difficulties. And Julian Ellsmere would laugh himself into stitches if he ever heard. He spent a moment wondering which busybody had told Georgiana of Elaine Changley, then dismissed the subject from his mind. There were any number of loose tongues about town.
Standing, Dominic stretched, then relaxed. He would just have to arrange to explain to his love the subtle difference between what a gentleman felt for the woman he made his mistress and the emotions he felt for the woman he would make his wife. It was, as it happened, a point he was supremely well qualified to expound. His smile broadened. He had told her he would see her at the Rigdons’ that night. As he recalled, Rigdon House had a most intriguing conservatory, tucked away in a corner of the mansion, unknown to most guests. The perfect place. As for the opportunity, there would be no difficulty arranging that.
Strolling to the door, relieved of his strange burden of not knowing what had gone wrong, Dominic felt on top of the world. Then, out of the blue, two phrases, heard at widely differing times, coalesced in his mind. He froze. Georgiana’s secret love was a man she had met during her earliest days in London who she believed was in love with and about to marry another woman. He had searched her acquaintance to no avail—there was no such man. Now she had just admitted that she thought he was in love with and had been about to marry Lady Changley. Ha!
Dominic’s smile as he left Winsmere House could have warmed the world.
IT WAS WITH a strange mixture of trepidation and relief that Georgiana entered the Rigdon House ballroom. She had initially felt devastated and drained after her interview with Lord Alton, but a peaceful hour in her bedchamber had convinced her that it was all for the best. At least he now knew she would not accept an offer from him and why. She told herself her problems were over. Yet, deep down inside, she was far from sure he would accept her dismissal. And buried even deeper was the uncertainty of whether she really wanted him to.
She had not left her chamber until, arrayed for the evening, she had descended for dinner. Arthur’s presence woul
d, she had hoped, inhibit Bella’s ability to question her closely about her brother’s strange behaviour. As it transpired, Bella had evinced not the slightest degree of curiosity, even in the privacy of the carriage on the way to the ball. Dimly Georgiana wondered if Bella’s brother often did such outrageous things.
After being presented to Lord Rigdon, whom she had not previously met, she and Bella drifted into the crowds of guests, chattering avidly while they waited for the dancing to begin.
Joining a circle of young ladies, many of whom she now knew, Georgiana went through the usual process of filling in her dance card, allocating the vital supper waltz to Lord Ellsmere. To her surprise, he also requested another waltz, earlier in the evening. She was puzzled, for he had rarely danced twice with her since she had refused his suit. Still, she numbered him among her most trusted cavaliers and gladly bestowed on him the first waltz of the night.
It was while she was circling the ballroom in Lord Ellsmere’s arms that she first became aware of a change in her status. A number of dowagers sat on chairs lining the walls. From the direction of their sharp glances and the whisperings behind their fans, she realised with a jolt that she was the subject under discussion. A few minutes later, as the waltz ended and, on Lord Ellsmere’s arm, she joined a small group of young people, she surprised a look of what could only be envy on the face of Lady Sabina Matchwick, one of the Season’s incomparables.
Slowly, it dawned that, as Dominic had prophesised, people were beginning to talk. Finding Bella by her side, and momentarily alone, Georgiana could not help but ask, “Bella, tell me. Is it really so very unusual for your brother to drive a lady in the park?”
Bella’s candid blue gaze found her face. “Yes. I told you. Dominic’s never taken any lady driving before.”
“Oh.”
At her stricken face, Bella burst into a trill of laughter. Impulsively, she hugged Georgiana. “Oh, Georgie! I’m so happy!”