A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (53 page)

Georgia stared at him, slightly breathless. “Oh, the justice of it when Sellerby used forgery as a weapon. What will happen?”

“Such an accusation against an earl is a weighty matter. Most likely Mansfield will summon Sellerby to privately answer the questions raised.”

“
He’ll deny the whole thing, and that will be that.” But then Georgia inhaled. “If he were warned, however…”

“Being devious must run in the Perriam blood. Sellerby will be warned somehow, with an added detail about the place of Vance’s murder. Your brother hasn’t found it yet, but he agrees it must exist, so Sellerby will hear that a witness can place him at the spot with Vance on the day of the duel.”

“I wish I could see his face.”

“As do I. But the end will satisfy, assuming he either flees the country or puts an end to his miserable existence. If he flees, remember your brother expects to truly find the place and witnesses, so he can be hauled back to face justice.”

She sat down, shivering slightly. “It suddenly seems real. More real. More horrible. He planned it. He planned Dickon’s death, and planned Vance’s murder. He poisoned Vance, watched him die, then threw him in the river like rubbish. Then he waited patiently, so patiently, to claim the prize—me. So cold, so cold. I could imagine that his blood runs icy rather than hot.”

He came to take her hands, to hold them between his big, warm ones. “He is vile, and you are his victim as much as your husband was.” He drew her up, saying, “I’m breaking my word,” and wrapped her in his arms.

She shivered there for a moment, but then his warmth comforted her and she snuggled close, suddenly sure. “Home,” she said.

He stroked her back. “You want to go home? Where is that?”

She looked up. “You. You are home.”

He lowered his head and kissed her, softly, warmly. She played her lips against his, drawing in some essence that she needed, that fed her and made her whole.

She drew back. “I’m breaking my word too, and being selfish as well, but I want you forever. I need you by my side, as my husband and my dearest friend. Please.”

She saw the joy in his eyes, a promise, a blessing. “It’s I who should beg, but I need to tell you something first.”

“Tell me something? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“It’s a confession of sorts, yes.” He led her to the small settee, so small they had to sit closely side by side. “You’ve probably wondered why your mother constructed the false betrothal.”

She shrugged. “Still playing Father’s game to keep Fancy Free.”

“True, but not the game you thought. Your father’s plan to keep his horse is based on an exchange, but the exchange has always been you.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“At Herne, after the race, he offered me you as wife, along with your large dowry, in exchange for Fancy Free.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“Would I lie? He ordered you down to dinner so I could see the goods.”

She gaped at him, but then anger raised her from her seat. “He had no right to do that. I’m free to marry whom I choose!”

“He seemed to think he could command you to it.”

“He was wrong,” she said. In fact, she almost growled it. “How could he?”

“Don’t be too angry, Georgia. I think he was a very worried man. You didn’t realize the full extent of the scandal, but your parents did, and I think they were concerned about your treatment by the beau monde. They were probably also concerned about your future behavior, for your father mentioned my well-honed ability to impose discipline.”

“Discipline!”

“I know, I know. I was hard-pressed not to discipline him by a fist to his fat nose.…”

Georgia covered a giggle at that image.

Dracy smiled. “He was led astray, of course, by my face. It makes me seem much more ferocious than I am.”

She had been furious, but humor had broken it, and she shook her head. “I can imagine it all. Father believes he’s God as far as the family is concerned, no matter our age or legal status. So I was to be saved from shame by being shackled to a tyrant who’d bury me in the wilds of Devon and beat me if I misbehaved.”

“And who was poor enough to be tempted by such a bitter prize.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You were tempted, weren’t you? And willing to do everything in your power to grab the prize!”

“Don’t start along that path. I was tempted by you—I admit it. By your beauty, yes, but almost as instantly by your kindness. You looked me in the face from the first.”

“I’d take shame not to.”

“I know, but most would not. I came to Herne, I saw you, and I was conquered, but I never expected to win such a prize, and I would never have taken you against your will, even if your father found a way to force you. That was true then, and it’s true now.” He drew her into his arms. “But I’ll willingly marry you, my love—once you’ve seen Dracy Manor.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s not Brookhaven, Georgia. It’s a ramshackle mess. I need you to know what you take when you take me.”

It did daunt her—she couldn’t deny it—but she said, “Then I’ll travel there with you, as soon as possible. And if there’s work to be done, we’ll decide how to do it.”

He rested his head on hers. “I hope you feel the same way when you actually get there.” He stepped back so that they only held hands, then slowly slipped free even of that. “I hope for calmer days too, and the end of this madness, so you can choose without fear or anguish.”

“You’re being noble,” she complained. “It won’t matter. The simple fact is I can’t live without you, you dratted man, so even if it’s life in a pigsty, so be it!”

He laughed and swept her up to whirl her around—but her foot caught a vase and sent it flying to smash into a pane of the window.

He put her down, and they stared at each other, aghast but laughing. He quickly flung open the door as a serving maid and the Torrismondes came running.

“My deepest apologies,” Dracy managed, but sent her a wild appeal for help.

“He annoyed me,” Georgia said, “so I threw a vase at him. And missed. I’m so sorry, Lizzie. I’ll pay for the damage.”

“Of course not. It doesn’t matter, but…” Lizzie’s lips were twitching, and probably some of the joy still danced in the room. “Come away and let Betsy clean up the bits from the floor. I’m not sure what can be done about the window.”

“It’s a summer evening,” Georgia said. “The breeze will be welcome.”

The breeze was indeed welcome that night, Georgia thought as she sat by the window, too full of thoughts and dreams to sleep. She suspected that Dracy was awake too, but she wouldn’t go to him. This was a quieter time, a thoughtful time. But even though she tried to think practical thoughts about country living and expenditures, the truth kept dancing through. The truth she’d spoken.
She couldn’t live without him.

She’d brought Dickon’s picture to the window ledge. At first it had upset her that moonlight leached the color, making him ghostly, but then she found a peace from that. He was gone, and she could only pray that he was in a good place, a true heaven.

He wouldn’t want revenge. “But you’d want Sellerby stopped, wouldn’t you?” she murmured to him. “I fear he’s like a bad dog. He’s learned to bite, and so he’ll bite again—if not me, someone else.”

If you have any power,
she thought to him,
wherever
you are, help us put an end to his menace, and keep everyone safe. I worry about Perry, even though I know he’s alert for danger. I’d worry about Dracy if he wasn’t here with me. Please don’t let danger come to Lizzie and her family.

Moonlight shone on something. For a startled moment she thought it was a sign, a message, but then she saw a splinter of glass remained in the leading around the empty rectangle. Someone had removed the jagged pieces, but they’d missed one bit.

She pulled on it, but it was firmly fixed, and in trying again, she cut her finger. “Idiot,” she muttered and sucked the nick, playing her tongue over it.

That stirred dangerous longings, so she went resolutely to bed.

Chapter 34

G
eorgia woke early the next morning, before Jane had come with hot water and her morning chocolate. How rarely she’d seen the hour after dawn except through sleepy eyes, and what a waste that was. She flung open both casements of the window to breath the exhilaratingly fresh air, to smile at the birdsong and at the jewel-like effect of dew on spiders’ webs.

It was completely glorious.

Then she became aware of a young man looking up at her, grinning. As soon as she saw him he ducked his head and hurried on. She backed away from the window, but she couldn’t help a chuckle at the gardener’s reaction.

Attracting men.

She reached out for the guilt and sorrow she should feel, but it eluded her. She would try to do better. She would be careful how she behaved with men and flirt only in the most innocent way, and only with elderly gentlemen. As Dracy’s wife.

Lady Dracy.

No more Lady May, and she felt no regret over that.

Lady Dracy, hardworking country wife, wearing sensible clothes…

Most of the time. There would be parties and assemblies, and perhaps even masquerades.

There might be children.

She put her hand low on her body, as if she might be able to sense the truth there. Dracy wouldn’t blame her—she believed him about that—but now she wanted children so desperately. First Winnie’s and now Lizzie’s darlings had stirred a deep longing that could break her if she allowed it.

God’s will, Lizzie would say, but would God punish her for her sins with barrenness?

She shook that away. She’d go out to enjoy the morning beauty.

She pulled open drawers, seeking her jumps and her plain dress, feeling like a girl again, slipping out of the house on some mischief. Soon she was decent and she slipped downstairs, her shoes in hand.…

But of course there were servants up in the house as well, preparing for the day. They dipped curtsies before continuing with their tasks, but she put on her shoes, feeling foolish.

She knew this world from her childhood, but in recent years she’d lived in that other one, the one that went to bed at dawn and woke at noon or later. She’d forgotten the servants’ world that lived life in reverse, like the gardener at Thretford who never smelled the night-perfumed
flowers.

Balance,
she thought. There had to be a balance between the two.

She went out through the door in the morning room and down a shallow flight of stairs to the path through the rose garden, where many blooms held a diamond of dew.

The grass was damp, but she walked across it, remembering Winnie’s ball, and the terrace, and ruined shoes. These ones were leather and sturdy. She walked all around the house, feeling simple and free in this newborn world, washed clean, even, as if christened all over again.

Smiling, she returned the way she’d come and entered her room just in time to prevent Jane from crying the alarm.

“Milady, I couldn’t imagine what had happened to you. And there’s blood!”

Georgia looked at the white-painted windowsill. “A very little bit of blood, Jane. There’s a sliver of glass left in the pane, that’s all.”

“Oh, I was so afraid! All these carryings-on, I don’t know. I’ve brought your water, but you’re already dressed!”

Georgia hugged her. “Dear Jane, my apologies for upsetting you, but all is well. I’ll take off these clothes and wash and then you can dress me more becomingly. But after I have my breakfast. I do believe I’m developing a country appetite.”

Jane gave her a look but hurried away.

Georgia ate a hearty breakfast, but she had another appetite. She hungered to be with Dracy. She sent Jane to ask if he was free but received an unsatisfactory reply.

“How dare he be out looking at trees?”

Jane just rolled her eyes.