A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (21 page)

Eloisa Cardross came over in extremely low-cut pink, smiling prettily. “Such a lovely house, is it not?”

“Charming,” Georgia said.

“Exquisite floral arrangements.”

“Thank you.”

Eloisa looked at her.

“I assisted my sister by managing the flowers. I’m pleased that they please you.”

Eloisa looked as if she wished she could bite the words back.

“I suppose you miss having a home of your own to manage,” Eloisa said. The words could be sympathetic but weren’t.

“I miss my husband more.”

“But are hungry for another, I’m sure.”

“You must have a healthy appetite for your first,” Georgia said. It came out more cattily than she’d intended, but completely in response to Eloisa’s catty tone. “I’m sure you will have your pick of the dishes,” she said, to sweeten it.

“If you leave any for any other lady!” Eloisa snapped and swept away.

Georgia stared after her. She’d known Eloisa was jealous, but not how viciously. She must certainly leave Thretford for Town as soon as possible. To add to her problems, Lord Sellerby approached. “My dearest Georgia, in full bloom. Or should I say plume?”

She had to smile at that. He could be witty. “Birds of a feather, Sellerby,” she said, admiring his suit of lilac silk. “Thank you for coming. I know you won’t disappear into a political huddle at the slightest excuse.”

“Not with you as my lodestone,” he said, that light in his eyes.

Georgia had to do something about that. “You know you can’t
monopolize me, Sellerby. May I ask you to be kind to Miss Cardross, who may not know many here? You may remember her from the dinner at Herne?” She took him over.

“How could I notice anyone in your presence,” he murmured, but was too civil to show anything but delight.

The Bryght Mallorens arrived, so Georgia went to greet them, wondering if she could promote a match between Sellerby and Eloisa. Eloisa was beautiful, which was important to Sellerby, and her portion would be reasonable. Presumably she’d be happy with an earl in her dish. Yes, two birds with one stone.

Lord Bryght’s full name was Arcenbryght, which Georgia felt a weighty burden to place upon an infant. Some ancient British prince or such. He had shoulders broad enough to bear it. He was a fine figure of a man, which made him an odd match for his wife, Portia, a petite redhead of no particular beauty from a very ordinary pedigree. Despite the mismatch they seemed a devoted couple.

Pairings could be so very odd.

Georgia knew Portia Malloren through Danae House, for she was also a patroness and sister-in-law to the founder, the Marchioness of Rothgar. Georgia didn’t know Portia well, for the Bryght Mallorens shared the Torrismondes’ enjoyment of country living, but the couple were safe company. The three of them talked of nothings such as the weather and the prospects for the harvest. Then Lizzie and her husband joined them.

Georgia wondered if Lizzie was hovering protectively, but Torrismonde wanted to discuss canal building and Lord Bryght was a well-known supporter of Bridgwater’s enterprise. Soon the two men went off to speak to the duke.

“Canals, canals, canals,” said Lady Bryght, rolling her eyes. “I hear of little else.”

“They do seem to be important,” Lizzie said.

“
And becoming profitable, but Bridgwater’s obsessed.”

“All men have their obsessions,” Lizzie said. “Digging channels for water to flow through seems harmless enough. Oh, I see Mistress Wayworth. Do excuse me.”

Georgia smiled at Lady Bryght. “Speaking of obsessions, Lizzie and Maria Wayworth can talk forever about glass houses and the production of tropical fruits.”

“I confess, I’m content with my hardy orchards and berries. I wish I were there now to tend to them.”

“You’re fixed in Town?” Georgia said. “That’s unusual for you.”

“And unwelcome. The political chaos wreaked havoc with trade and ’Change so Bryght felt he should be on hand to watch over the Malloren interests. I was torn, for we didn’t want to bring the children to Town, but in the end I left them and came with him. I didn’t expect to be away so long.”

Children.
When last they’d spoken Lady Bryght had only a son.

“I’m sorry. I’m sadly out of touch. You were expecting…”

“Last June, yes, when you had no interest in such matters. Again, my deepest condolences.”

Portia had written, as had all Georgia’s friends and acquaintances. Such a mountain of black-edged paper.

“Thank you. It was a hard time. Do you have girl or a boy this time?

“A girl, Joanna, and she has Bryght’s dark hair rather than my carroty color.”

“You can’t expect another redhead to be so dismissive.”

“There’s red and then there’s red,” Portia said. “Your coppery shade is lovely.”

Georgia smiled and waved her fan, not wanting to get into that, for Portia Malloren’s red was closer to orange and went along with a great many freckles.

“
And your son?” she asked dutifully, but wondering if she was to hear of nothing but babies, babies, babies all night.

After a few minutes of the brave, kind, clever Francis Malloren, Georgia plunged into the only topic they had in common. “Have you had an opportunity to visit Danae House while you’ve been in Town?”

“Not opportunity so much as necessity. Diana had to go north to attend to some problem on her estates and she made me promise to do her weekly inspection. If it weren’t for that…” She looked sharply at Georgia. “Is there any way you could take over that duty?”

“Of course,” Georgia said, but then she grimaced. “Except that I’m stuck out here.”

“Why?”

“Father thinks London unsafe.”

“It’s still restless, I grant, but the rioting seems to have stopped. Of course, I argue in my own cause. If you could take over until Diana returns, we could go home to Candleford. We’ve only been delaying for this.”

Georgia’s heart actually pitter-pattered with excitement. Here was an excuse to visit Town weekly. Or even move there?

“When’s Lady Rothgar expected back?” she asked.

“Impossible to know what issues she might have found or how long the journey will take. With a baby, even! I do think…But it’s not for me to criticize. She’ll return as soon as possible, I’m sure, having left Rothgar behind.”

Indeed, the Rothgars seemed hardly able to bear to be apart. Had she ever felt like that about Dickon? She couldn’t remember it. She touched the locket, feeling as if she betrayed him.

With a start, she realized Lady Bryght was still talking about Danae House. “…is particularly busy. Such hard times. It’s as if war created prosperity and peace has created poverty and unemployment. That seems all wrong, but…Oh dear, I shouldn’t talk serious matters here.”

Georgia hoped she hadn’t seemed bored.

“I don’t see why not. Most of the men are talking politics. Or canals,” she added with a smile.

“Danae House?” Lady Bryght persisted. “Is there any chance…?”

Georgia made the decision. “Yes. I’ve kept an eye on things before from Chelsea when summer took most of the patronesses to estates. Alas, wickedness and folly know no quiet season.”

“Thank you!” For a moment Georgia feared Portia would hug her, right there in the hall. “I feel as if I’ve shed a burden. As for season, love knows no season either.”

“Nor rape,” Georgia said, “and summer sorrows grow from spring assaults.”

“There are some who are led astray by love, like that maid you brought. I feel some sympathy for such as they. How hard it must be to wait for years when love and desire run like fire in the veins.”

Georgia tried to find the right expression in response to that, especially as Lady Bryght had glanced at her husband with such a look. She could only say, “I suppose it must.”

When love and desire run like fire in the veins?

Georgia knew she’d never felt like that with Dickon, never found days apart intolerable, and now it seemed worthy of tears.

“Georgia!”

Georgia turned with relief to buxom Babs Harringay, dark curls bobbing, dimples deep in round cheeks. She greeted her friend and made the two ladies known to each other, glad to be back to normal matters. Within minutes, however, the two mothers were talking of children, of their charms and mischiefs, their feeding and clothing, and the unpleasantness of being separated from them.

Georgia excused herself and moved away, smiling,
greeting, but seeking Dracy in all seriousness. He could be depended upon not to speak of nurseries.

She strolled from the hall into a reception room, pausing to talk to friends and flirt with suitable gentlemen and doing her best to ignore piercing looks from others. As soon as they became accustomed to her being as she’d always been, incapable of squalid sin, all would be well.

Remembering where she’d found Dracy at Herne, she went out onto the rear terrace. Alas, no beached tar leaning over the copingstone, but then he’d have no need to do that here. The shallow terrace was but four feet up from the lawn, and the balustrade only hip high.

She returned through the library, which was set for cards, but still saw no sign of him. Impossible that he would have backed out. A man like that feared nothing.

Or did he simply disguise fear well?

Perhaps people here thought her fearless, and in the past they would have been correct. Now, however, she had to at least admit unease. People did not smile as warmly at her, nor rush to be in her company. This wasn’t the world she remembered.

Ah, Beaufort! Here he came, glowing with pleasure, soothing her pride. As he kissed her hand, he even flushed slightly in a most endearing way. Then Lord Everdon joined them, perhaps with courtship in mind. Her court was increased when the Duke of Richmond came to flirt. Two dukes, even if one was a mere seventeen. All was as it should be after all.

She allowed Richmond the first dance—the formal minuet—mainly to tease the others. As she walked onto the floor, she saw Sellerby ask Eloisa to dance, so perhaps her plan was working there. If only Dracy would arrive, the evening could be perfect.

She smiled at Richmond. “This will be my first dance in a year, Duke. Thank you for the opportunity.”

He blushed. “The pleasure and honor are all mine,
Lady May. The world has been dull as November without you in it.”

“A clever turn of phrase, Duke, and charming as well.”

He blushed even more.

The music started and Georgia happily lost herself in the pleasure of the stately dance, knowing she executed the movements to perfection. Well satisfied with that, she granted the first country-dance to Beaufort, who seemed almost giddy at the honor. She stepped and wove and turned, unable to stop smiling. Lady May was back, and her world was just as it ought to be.

When that dance ended, she saw Sellerby approaching. She would have to grant him a dance, but she was growing worried about Dracy, so she excused herself with a smiling apology and went in search again. When she saw her brother-in-law, she asked, “Is Lord Dracy here yet?”

“Dracy?” Thretford asked. “Oh, your father’s protégé, the naval man. No idea, my dear. Perhaps he’s lost his way, not being used to navigating on land.”

He chortled at his own joke and moved on to greet a late guest. Not Dracy. She circled the house again, but then returned to the dancing to find Sellerby standing out, waiting for her. He took her hand. “I feast my eyes on Lady May!”

He really was ridiculous at times. “Do eyes have teeth, then, Sellerby?”

He chuckled. “Clever girl. Only lashes.”

“All the better to whip me with? Come, come, this is an odd line of speech.”

“You leapt from feast to teeth, my dear Georgie, but I assure you, if I were ever to whip you, it would be a very gentle chastisement.”

“If you were to…”