A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (34 page)

“Because he was in love with you.”

“But I was married.”

“Love isn’t ruled by good sense.”

She shrugged, and he wondered if she’d ever known true love. She probably had been devoted to her husband, but had she loved him?

“Did the game continue after your husband’s death?”

“Of course not. How can you think such a thing?”

“My apologies. I merely wonder why he appeared at Herne, in full devotion after a year of separation.”

“I assure you it was a year of separation,” she said. “But we did correspond in the latter months. He attempted a correspondence from the first, but I’d have none of that, not from any gentleman. In December, however, there was the issue of the dowager and the letter and I learned that he’d gone to great efforts to try to make her see sense. I wrote to thank him and fell into a correspondence. I confess, I did enjoy hearing a little of
Town amusements. There was nothing in my replies to encourage him to think it a courtship.”

“Still less a favored one, but it can be easy to shape matters to suit oneself.”

She spread her hands. “All I can do now is avoid him when possible and make the situation clear when we meet. Thank you for warning me that he might persist.”

She rose, but he said, “Why don’t you consider him as a husband? He’s wealthy, he’s an earl, and he shares your interests.”

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t know. I like him, or I used to, but I don’t
feel
anything for him. I feel for him as I do for my brothers.”

“You said the same about me,” he pointed out.

She flushed. “And you must be as a brother to me.”

She walked to the door and he went ahead to make sure the corridor was deserted. “All’s clear.”

She hesitated, looking at him, inches apart.

Dracy suppressed a smile.

She might speak of brothers, but Lady May wanted a kiss. She didn’t admit it, perhaps even to herself, but that want could be the main reason she’d come to his room.

“Good night,” he said.

A betraying frown flickered, but then she hurried over to her own room.

He realized that her presence had so befuddled him that he hadn’t told her of his suspicions.

Georgia entered her room and leaned back against the door, heart racing, legs unsteady. Why, oh why, hadn’t he kissed her? She hadn’t known until that moment how desperately she wanted to reexperience the passion of his kiss.

He was being honorable, of course, especially when she couldn’t have made it plainer that they could never wed.

A brother, indeed! She didn’t feel about Lord Dracy as she did about even her favorite brother—but that
changed nothing, and she should never have gone to his room like that.

She tossed aside her robe and climbed into bed, but as she extinguished her candle and slid under the covers, she thought again of that moment, and the kiss that hadn’t happened, squeezing back tears. Why did everything conspire to make her unhappy?

She didn’t sleep well and rose feeling heavy-headed.

“You stay home today, milady,” Jane said. “There’s no need for you to be at Mary’s all the time.”

“There are constant adjustments to be made.”

“Then go along later, milady. Rest this morning.”

Georgia took a leisurely breakfast but couldn’t imagine sitting at home for hours. Then she realized what she wanted to do.

She quickly wrote a note.

“Jane, take this to Lord Dracy. I owe him some time as a Town guide.”

But Jane returned to say that he’d left. “Summoned to the Admiralty, milady, by an important-looking letter.”

“Heavens, he can’t be ordered back to sea, can he?”

“I don’t know, milady, but it’s unlikely, isn’t it? We’re not at war as best I know.”

“Of course,” Georgia said, but was disturbed by the flat panic she’d felt for a moment. At sea or in Devon, he would soon be out of her orbit, and infuriatingly, he wasn’t available for a tour around the Town.

“Oh well, I’ll write letters for a while, and then we’ll visit some shops until dinnertime. After dinner, I’ll visit Mary’s to be sure all’s well.”

She wrote to Lizzie, to Clara Allworthy in Wiltshire, and to Anna Long in Ireland. Repeating the same news was tedious, however, especially when she left out a great deal in her letters to Clara and Anna. The shops didn’t prove as amusing as they should, and when she realized she was being avoided by some ladies, she retreated back home to safety.

Oh, but she hated this, and hated the people who’d brought it about. Her situation wouldn’t be nearly as bad without that wicked letter. Eloisa Cardross and who? Who hated her so? When Dracy didn’t appear for dinner, she could almost have cried.

“Dining at the Admiralty, I assume,” she said, striving for indifference. “What they can want of him, I can’t imagine.”

“Have sense, child,” her mother said. “He’s now a lord. A mere baron, but that gives him a seat in the House. They’ll want to ensure that he casts his vote in favor of the navy.”

Georgia supposed that was true, but she knew he’d cast it the way he thought right, not to order.

They were eight to dine today, including two wives who were so meticulously polite that it was an insult. Georgia coped in the only way she could, by being calm and unaffected, but gave thanks when the event was over and all the guests had left.

She was leaving the drawing room when her mother said, “We are invited to an exhibition at the Danish embassy tonight. Do you wish to come?”

Georgia knew she should. Should again present a sweet, innocent appearance and charm people back into their wits, but she couldn’t face it. “I’ve felt out of sorts all day, Mother. I’ll go early to bed.”

When she returned from Mary Gifford’s Georgia played cards with Jane for a while and then did prepare for bed early. She dismissed Jane but couldn’t settle. She tried to read but too often went to the window to peer out, hoping to see a carriage approaching, carrying Dracy home.

It was both foolish and wicked, and tonight she had no excuse to visit his room, but temptation danced through her. She could come up with an excuse.

Where on earth was he? It was gone eight o’clock. Admiralty business couldn’t last so late. For a man who didn’t
care for Town, he seemed able to enjoy it very well.

She sat to read a new book of poetry, forbidding herself from going to the window. The verses were quite good, and when she heard something out in the street, the clock said almost ten.

She hurried to the window but saw only three gentlemen walking away. Perhaps they’d simply been walking past, but had she heard a knock at the door?

She pulled her wrap around her and crept into the corridor, listening.

Voices in the hall.

As she went to the top of the stairs, the voices became clearer. Dracy’s and probably a footman’s.

“I was attacked in the street,” Dracy said. “Thieves. Any chance of bandages?”

Georgia ran down the stairs. “Bandages! What’s happened?”

Dracy stared up at her, and she remembered how she was dressed, but she couldn’t retreat, not when his buff waistcoat was stained with blood. She ran up to him. “What’s happened to you?”

“Footpads. I’m all right.”

“Not if you need bandages. You’re covered with blood!”

“Not covered…”

There was a slur to his voice.

“Dracy, are you
drunk
?”

“Guilty as charged, ma’am.”

She rolled her eyes, but she’d dealt with Dickon in a similar state. “Come, I’ll assist you to your room. Get washing water,” she ordered the footman, “and something that will make bandages. Come along.”

“And brandy,” Dracy added.

“You don’t need more drink,” she said, trying to put her arm around him.

He fended her off. “You don’t want blood on your gown…or
whatever that thing you’re wearing is. I’m steady on my feet.”

“More or less,” she muttered, as he made his way carefully up the stairs. He couldn’t be seriously wounded, however, and her heart rate began to settle.

He paused at the top to get his balance on the newel post. “Where’re your parents?”

“Mother went to the Danish ambassador’s house, and Father was to join her there. I chose a quiet evening.”

“Scared?”

“Not at all.”

“You’re a bad liar, Georgia.”

“And you are stupid with drink. Come along.”

Again he fended her off and made his way to his room. He turned the knob and went in.

When she followed, he said, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Come in. I might ravish you.”

Her heart thumped. “You’re wounded!”

“The one doesn’t preclude the other. Though my arm might make it tricky.” He sat on the bed, cradling it. “If I attack you, sweet Circe, hit my left arm.”

Georgia stared at him but knew he was serious. Drink had loosened his restraints and he wanted to ravish her. She was both thrilled and terrified.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” she asked from the safety of the door.

“Cudgel.”

“Is it broken?”

“No.”

“Can you be sure?”

He flexed it, so he was probably correct, even though he winced.

“What happened to your side?”

“Knife.”

“You could have been killed!” She stepped forward, but at that moment the footman entered bearing hot
water, followed by Jane bearing bandages and giving Georgia a ferocious frown.

“He needed help,” Georgia protested.

“He has it now. Let Jem tend to him, milady.”

“He’s drunk.”

“All the more reason to let Jem tend to him, milady.”

“Good idea,” Dracy said and waved his right arm grandly. “Ladies, leave the ship! There are likely to be sights unsuitable.”

Georgia giggled. “Very well, but I’m returning to make sure you’ll survive the night.”

As soon as the door shut, Jane said, “Don’t you be so foolish, milady.”

“It’s my duty.”

“Then come and get decently dressed.”

“Jane, cease your fussing. I’m covered neck to toes, and to reassemble myself in stays and petticoats would be ridiculous. In any case, he’s too hurt to molest me.”

Jane muttered, but Georgia shooed her off to bed and hoped she went.

For her part, she couldn’t wait to return and make sure Dracy was all right.

Drunk! She covered her mouth on another chuckle. He always seemed so neatly put together that it was delightful to see him loosened by drink.

But he’d been attacked!

She crossed the corridor and opened his door just a crack. “Dracy, do you need a doctor?”

“No, thank you. Go away, Lady Maybury.”

She closed the door and returned to her room. Was he being rational? Men often overestimated their health. She heard footsteps in the hall and looked out to see the housekeeper, Mistress Crombie, march into his room.

“My own salve, milord, efficacious against bruising.”

“I thank you, ma’am. Any possibility of coffee?”

“Of course, milord, but if I may offer a word of advice. It’s unwise to walk the night streets of London alone.”

“I’d
certainly have been better alone than with that linkboy,” Dracy said. “Are they often in league with thieves, ma’am?”