A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (9 page)

She looked at the small portrait on her dressing table, which she much preferred. It showed him smiling and in fashionable finery, full of life and the joys it held. She kissed her fingers and touched them to the image, but the glass was as cold as his corpse had been.

She swallowed and stood to survey herself in the long mirror.

“Lud! Perhaps Beaufort and the rest won’t even notice my presence.”

Jane snorted.

Georgia put on her plain black shoes. “It might be pleasant to be ignored, like a ghost at the feast.”

“There’s an odd thought for Lady May,” Jane said.

It was indeed. Georgia took the gray fan Jane offered and turned back to the mirror for a final check, tucking away a curl, smoothing away a crease in the bodice.

Delaying.

“Enough of this dithering,” she said and left the room.

She went downstairs, but when she heard conversation from the Terrace Room, she halted three steps from the bottom.

She forced herself onward, but perdition! Her heart was beating faster than it should. She’d never been afraid like this before. Never. A burst of laughter felt threatening, as if they laughed at her.…

A footman was stationed in the hall, observing her.

To excuse another halt, she asked, “Has Lord Dracy arrived yet?”

“Yes, your ladyship, but I saw him just now go out onto the terrace.”

“Thank you,” Georgia said, meaning it, and turned to go onto the terrace by a different door.

A cowardly move, but she could cloak it in duty. Lord
Dracy was her charge, and it seemed he’d already fled the company. Poor fish out of water. No, a beached tar, like a beached whale.

Rotund, floundering, helpless.

Georgia went through an anteroom and out onto the terrace, but then she paused.

There was only one man on the terrace, a gentleman in brown country clothing who had his back to her. It had to be Lord Dracy, but he was no gouty whale. Broad shoulders, long, strong legs…

But what on earth was he doing?

Dracy had been introduced to the Hernescroft house party and none of the ladies had fainted. Some had been uncomfortable, however, so he’d relieved them of his face by strolling out through open doors onto the terrace. After so much time at sea and in foreign lands, he never tired of the English countryside.

He walked up to the stone balustrade, amused by the fancy of being on the poop deck of a ship, with a fair sea spread before him and a brisk wind making music in the sails.

Instead of gray waves he was surrounded by the rolling green of a skillfully designed park, and the music came from the twitter and song of birds. English birdsong was a rare treasure.

He inhaled with satisfaction and realized a sweet perfume rose from below. He leaned forward across the wide coping to find the source. Ah, roses and a honeysuckle vine were climbing the wall. But what were the tall, ungainly plants bearing pale flowers?

“I do hope you’re not attempting to put an end to your existence, Lord Dracy.”

He straightened but took his time in turning. If that mellow voice didn’t belong to Circe, he’d be damned disappointed.

It did, and Lady Maybury, a teasing light in her
big blue eyes, was as perfect in the flesh as in the painting, despite a gray dress and a demure cap that hid most of her hair.

In fact, she was even more alluring.

In such a gray frame, she glowed with vitality.

He pulled his wits together and bowed. He almost said, “Lady Maybury,” but remembered in time that she was supposed to be a stranger.

“You have the advantage of me, ma’am.”

She dipped a curtsy. “The Countess of Maybury, my lord, Lord Hernescroft’s daughter. He requested that I take tender care of you, so I fear he’d be most disappointed if you did away with yourself at the terrors of your first social event.”

Heaven help him, a gentle wit, good humor, and most wondrous of all, no sign of a flinch at the sight of his face. She’d have been warned, but from the first she’d met his eyes with no hint of discomfort.

There was also no hint that she knew of a special connection between them. In general, he preferred honest dealings, but he’d avoid them for now and enjoy this pleasant moment.

“Hardly my first social occasion, Lady Maybury, but my first with fine English ladies.”

“Frightening enough to send you head first off the balustrade, my lord?”

He smiled, testing her with the snarl.

Again, wonder of wonders, no flinch.

“I wasn’t attempting suicide, ma’am. I merely wished to discover the magic of the perfume below. Roses and honeysuckle I recognize, but not the tall plants.”

She came closer in a soft rustle of skirts and leaned out, but the balustrade was too wide to give her a view.

Dracy scooped her up and sat her on top, keeping an arm around her waist—for safety’s sake, of course.

Her beautiful eyes were only a foot from his, the subtle tones of green and blue reminding him of some foreign
seas. Her lashes were brandy brown and thick, and even up close her complexion was as perfect as a rose petal. It truly was.

And her scent…

Or was that the flowers?

Chapter 5

T
rapped by his arm, Georgia stilled, heart fluttering, unsure what to do but determined not to show it.

“I was warned you might be rough-and-ready in your ways, my lord, but this…”

His expression was slightly, irritatingly, amused. “Blame it on the navy. Are you offended?”

“And if I were?”

“I would instantly return you to the terrace, my lady, and apologize profusely.”

“So tame?”

“You would prefer that I complete the offense and tip you over?”

She had to laugh. “You are certainly an original, Lord Dracy.”

“Perhaps a gallant one? I hoped to prevent you from snagging your gown.”

“It would be no great loss. In twenty-four days I’ll be free of mourning and may well burn it. Very well, sir. I will trust you and lean.”

She did so but hadn’t anticipated that it would press the side of her right breast to his hand. Thank heavens for stays!

“Ah, the perfumed tobacco,” she said, straightening
quickly. “I doubt you’re smelling it now. It releases its scent in the evening. Restore me, please.”

“And if I don’t, what will you do?”

She counted on her fingers. “One, fend for myself. Two, send you the bill for my ruined gown, for I do have need of it for twenty-four days. Three, inform the world that you’re a dastard, my lord.”

“Four?” he asked.

“Three will suffice. Shall I begin fending?”

She saw the way he looked at her lips. Lud! He wouldn’t!

“We are within sight of the house, sir.”

“And if we were not?”

“I would probably slap you.”

He laughed and said, “With reason.”

He restored her to the ground, but this time she was more aware of being apparently weightless in his strong arms, of being settled back on the terrace with perfect care.

She fussed over the smoothing of her skirts, wishing she could smooth the rest of herself as easily.

“A perfumed tobacco,” he said. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“It’s a rare plant grown from seeds given to my mother. She has a fondness for perfumed gardens.”

“Truly?”

She understood his skepticism. “No one has only one side, Lord Dracy.”

“Some have too many. I like the idea of a plant that gives perfume only at night. A magical property.”

“If it’s magical, it’s ordinary enough. I could have the gardener give you some seeds.”

“Commonplace magic, so carelessly distributed. Are you an enchantress, Lady Maybury?”

“You cited magic first, sir, and merely because of a tobacco plant.”

He leaned against the copingstone, irritatingly at ease,
even in command. “Clearly you haven’t inhaled tobacco smoke after a long, hard day, or you’d not discount the magic of it.”

Ah, there she had him. “As it happens, I have smoked a pipe.”

“The deuce you have! Did you enjoy it?”

“No. It’s vile stuff.”

“One has to apply oneself to liking it at first.”

Georgia flipped open her fan and wafted it. “I can’t imagine why anyone would bother.”

“Haven’t you discovered that some pleasures take time to appreciate?”

Georgia raised her brows. “Applying oneself to the appreciation of a pipe, sir, seems much like applying oneself to the appreciation of brimstone.”

The smile touched his eyes. “I’ve known people apply themselves to appreciating sea water.”

She found herself smiling back. “Lud, don’t remind me! I drank some once.” She put on a shudder but then wondered if it was wise to be playful with this odd, scarred military man.

“Only once?” he asked.

“As I said, I don’t apply myself to tolerating the unpleasant.”

“No one likes sea water, but many find potent pleasures in a pipe. That didn’t tempt you to persevere?”

“I have pleasures aplenty, sir, without choking for them. Come, we must return to the house.”

She turned, but he said, “Wouldn’t the ability to smoke a pipe be useful when you seek to play the manly part?”

She turned back. “You refer to my attire at the race, sir? If this is your notion of polite conversation, I tell you it is sadly off.”

“Then, please, dear lady, teach me better ways.”

She was being challenged again, in ways she hardly understood. She’d never met such a man.

“
Are you truly out here because you’re uncomfortable in the company of fine ladies?”

“Perhaps a little. I have no wish to disturb.”

“No?” she asked pointedly.

“Very well. I don’t always wish to disturb,” he amended.

Georgia was aware of a strange temptation to linger out here bandying words with him, but she found the resolution to head back to the house.

He fell into step beside her. “You will be my guide in there, Lady Maybury? I truly am unused to this sort of gathering.”

“Very well.”

“You’ll stay by my side?”

“I’ll even elbow you if you commit a faux pas.”

“Perhaps before?”

“I’m not a mind reader, sir. You’ll have to learn by your mistakes like the rest of us.” He stopped and she turned back. “Cold feet, Lord Dracy?”

“I merely wondered if you are usually so assiduous in obeying your father’s requests. I’m sure he didn’t expect you to go so far as saving my life.”

“I’m sure he expected me to go as far as necessary to achieve his end.”

“His end?” he asked, but he would know what she meant. She’d have her father’s purpose laid out clearly between them before he leapt to any other assumptions.

“To retain Fancy Free,” she said. “Will you accept some substitute?”

“Perhaps that depends on you, Lady Maybury.”

“You’ll be swayed by my kindness? A strange way of deciding a stud matter, but in order to save Fancy Free, I shall do my tender best.”

“You tempt me to delay my decision. How long could your kindness last?”

“About two hours,” she said briskly. “My engagement is only for dinner, sir, and I don’t promise kindness even then. I am your mentor, not your comforter.”