Fates for Apate (21 page)

George endeavored to keep her expression neutral but was sure that she had paled considerably. "Why are you having my husband investigated?"

He drummed his fingers over the file. "I didn't know he was your husband when I requested the information. You can imagine my surprise at receiving such a fascinating report. And then I had to ask myself, would George have married a man with such a complicated past? Is it possible she didn't know? Looking at you now I can see that you didn't know. That does concern me, George. You were trained to elicit information. Apparently your training wasn't as thorough as one would hope."

She frowned down at her clasped hands. In her mind she repeated a phrase that had served her well.
Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't feel.

Robert apparently hadn't needed a response, as he continued speaking after a moment. "That is your next assignment, George."

She looked up sharply. He wanted her to report back to him about her own
husband
?

His voice interrupted her thoughts. "Find out what I have in this file before I have to tell you. You should know. But you should find out from your husband, not from me."

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
E
IGHT

Once shown into the front parlor, Casimir almost immediately regretted not bringing Gini. The house had an air of despondency that he hadn't expected. From the references she had made to her family he had expected them to be eccentric but lively. Certainly her wicked humor and teasing ways hadn't sprung fully formed from Zeus's forehead. It had to be based in the nature of her family. But the tone from the staff thus far had been nearly funereal. There was an illness in this house. The only question that remained was who had taken ill? And would Gini be too late to say goodbye?

The home was well appointed. Not to the extreme of luxury seen at the Earl of Harrington's townhouse, but a settled sense of wealth pervaded the atmosphere. More so, actually, than Casimir had expected. He had become rather adept at determining not only the current level of wealth a person had, but the environment in which they had been raised. Everything left clues in the personality. He had studied those clues with determination and he was now able to subtly indicate a higher or lower wealth or status as fit his environment. It was how he had survived University. His Gini had not signaled such a casual wealth as he saw here. Interesting.

He heard steps in the hall and turned towards the door with an expression midway between welcoming and sympathetic. The man who entered was a bit taller than himself, with the solid

physique some men developed in middle age. He looked sturdy. Stable. Casimir had staked quite a few things in his life on first impressions, and Mr. Lockhart was both steady and likeable. Not much at all in mien like his clever, prickly daughter. But he shared her fair coloring and dark eyes, even if her features were a bit sharper in definition.

"Good afternoon, Mr. - "

The typical hesitancy the English had in pronouncing his name. "Rokiczana." Casimir supplied helpfully. "Good afternoon, Mr. Lockhart. I hope that I have not come at an inopportune time?"

"Not at all. My apologies if the staff did not make you feel welcome."

"Very welcome indeed. Perhaps I should start by giving you this letter of introduction from your daughter."

"Georgiana?"

The man's tone, a blend of surprise and anxiety, made Casimir regret again not having brought Gini. It wouldn't have been appropriate, considering the ruse, for the two of them to have traveled alone together. But right this moment Casimir wished he could produce her with a flourish, rather than the short letter she had written to smooth the introductions between himself and her father. Mr. Lockhart plucked the letter from Casimir's hand and immediately set to reading it. Once finished, his gaze rose to study Casimir a bit more carefully.

"How did you meet my daughter?"

"At a dance." Technically true. They had, of course, anticipated that question.

"Pardon my saying, but you don't sound Scottish."

"Indeed I am not. My homeland is Silesia, in Prussia."

Mr. Lockhart looked down at the letter in his hand. "She hopes that I will look upon your proposal favorably."

"Did she rush the fences for me, then? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Yes, I would like to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."

Lockhart looked up from the letter again. "I will never claim to understand my daughter, but I have met her. If she wished to marry she would do so. Especially while in a country such as Scotland, where a marriage can be forged in moments over a smithy's anvil. I regret to inform you that she didn't send you here for my blessing, because it would never occur to her to seek it. She undoubtedly wished to rid herself of you, in which case I can only apologize for her manners and wish you well."

Casimir stared at the man, stunned, for a solid minute. He was rarely surprised by anyone, but Lockhart had managed to render him speechless, thoughtless, in a matter of seconds. For a moment Casimir even worried that the man was correct and Gini had sent him here to shake loose of him while she made other plans. Then he realized that while Lockhart's logic was correct, it really shouldn't worry him because he
was
already married to her. Suddenly it all seemed like the most entertaining thing he had ever heard. What started as a chuckle bloomed into a full laugh. 

Although bemused, Lockhart didn't join him in the laughter. "I'm glad that you can be so lighthearted about my daughter's perfidy. Perhaps I can offer you a meal for your trouble?"

Casimir mastered his laughter. "I would be delighted and am hopeful that I can still gain your approval."

"My approval will mean nothing to her."

"Perhaps. But it will mean a lot to me."

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
N
INE

If her emotional tenor going to Robert's office had been dread, on her return to Jack's house George was bereft. With his thin file and dark allusions, Robert had effectively shattered the fantasy she had been living in. Casimir was a wanted man. Wanted for what? By whom? She was tempted to still ignore the truth, but she knew that if she didn't find out from Casimir that Robert
would
tell her. She
would
know the truth. And it was most likely correct that the source of her information would make a significant difference to her marriage. If, that was, they were to continue with their marriage once the truth was revealed.

She dragged herself into the Harrington household hoping that she could quietly return to her room and remain there. Luck was not on her side, and Jack walked into the foyer just as George was pulling off her gloves to hand to the butler.

"George! Famous. I was going over to see Sabre before they return to Belle Fleur. Would you care to join me?"

"I would prefer not to."

"Are you not feeling well?" Ever solicitous Jack was already at her elbow, most likely inspecting her coloring and Lord knew what else in her never-ending quest to find out if George was all right.

"Not especially. I'll be fine, Jack. Go see Sabre. Wish her well for me."

"Are you increasing?" Jack whispered. "I felt abysmal for the first month or so."

Although a possibility, George didn't think so. It was more the pain in her heart. The fear or what her husband might be. The fear of losing who she thought he was. But as she looked up at Jack she weighed the option of saying yes. Of sending Jack off with what she would most likely spread as happy news. Earnest Jack. Best friend Jack.

Jack whose eyes widened. "Georgie, what's wrong?"

That was when George realized she felt tears running down her face and off her chin. Bloody hell. Of all the inconvenient times to start crying. "Nothing," she said petulantly, followed by a loud sniff.

But Jack gathered her up in a warm hug and the crying began in earnest. Sobbing, really. Embarrassing, lowering sobbing in the front hall of the Harrington townhouse, all because she had married a man she didn't really know. It was horrifying. When the sobs subsided, Jack stepped away a bit and patted her on the back.

"Would you like to have a bath sent up?"

George couldn't meet her friends eyes, but nodded while watching her own hands twisting together.

"Go on up, Georgie," Jack said gently. "I'll be here if you want to talk later."

George trudged upstairs. Rather, she thought, Gini trudged upstairs. Strong, cynical George seemed nowhere in residence today.

* * *

Casimir took another sip of wine and sat back in his chair, enjoying the domestic scene in front of him. Mr. Lockhart had quietly apologized that his wife was not well and could not join them, confirming Casimir's suspicion of illness affecting the household, and then asked if he might invite two of his older children to join them. Casimir, intensely curious about George's family, had agreed. Thus he now looked on as James, who appeared old enough to be out in society, and Sarah, who was most likely still in the schoolroom, good-naturedly bickered. It had been some time since he had seen his own sister, and this brought back memories of their family dinners years ago. Mr. Lockhart seemed to have a good deal more patience than his own father had. As there was apparently yet another son too young to dine with guests, perhaps it was a
great
deal more patience.

"My apologies, Mr. Rokiczana," Mr. Lockhart said. "When I invited them to join us I had misguidedly expected that your company would put them on their best manners."

The two siblings stopped their harangue mid-word and had the good grace to look guilty. "Apologies, papa," they both murmured.

"No apologies for our guest that you have so terribly wronged?" A gentle rebuke, but Sarah blushed rosily as James spoke their apologies. If this was how he disciplined his children it was no wonder that Mr. Lockhart suspected his strong-willed and adventurous eldest daughter didn't listen to him.

Sarah seemed to recover her voice and asked, "Mr. Rokiczana, do you have any idea why Georgie hasn't written?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm sure I can't say."

"I've written to her every week but haven't received even one reply."

James rolled his eyes and said, "That's George."

Mr. Lockhart guided the conversation away from that topic. "So Mr. Rokiczana, tell us some more about yourself."

"Of course. I attended 
Universität zu Berlin
for the study of law and recently served as a clerk for the Prussian delegation at the Congress of Vienna."
Yes, I am both educated and connected. Surely I can care for your daughter.
"My mother and sister still live in Silesia and you remind me that I am overdue in writing them this month."
Family is important to me. I might even be a good influence on your daughter in that regard.
"I haven't decided what to do with myself since my duties at the Congress ended, but have enjoyed developing contacts in London."
I'm not averse to staying in England if you want to keep your daughter close to you.
"Of course, seeing the countryside here has led me to wonder whether any land in the area might be available."
In case you still wondered after reviewing my manner and dress, yes I would be able to support your daughter in the style she grew up knowing.

Now it was Mr. Lockhart who sat back in his chair. "Perhaps it was just that one dance that you shared with Georgiana? Because certainly you know she has no interest in living in Derbyshire."

Casimir had to chuckle as he recognized the same acerbic tone that Gini often used. "On the contrary, the stories from her childhood seemed filled with nostalgia."

James snorted.

Casimir tilted his glass in acknowledgment to the younger man. "Admittedly, you were usually only mentioned by the phrase 'of course my brother tried to follow me'."

"Did she mention me?" Sarah asked.

"Usually with the phrase 'of course I wouldn't let my sister do that'."

James shook his head at his sister. "George only cares about the Haberdashers."

Sarah frowned at her brother. "That's not true."

"No, it's not true," Casimir confirmed. The younger man's expression indicated his cynicism about Casimir's opinion.

Mr. Lockhart held his hands up to his children. "We're not here to pester Mr. Rokiczana about what he might or might not have heard Georgiana say about us."

"Of course not," James said. "We're here to express our sympathy that he ever thought he wanted to marry her."

Casimir managed to maintain his smile as he warned, "Although I enjoy familial teasing, do know that there will be a limit to my patience if you continue to denigrate her in my presence."

While James was pulled up short by Casimir's statement, Mr. Lockhart appraised him with new eyes. Shortly he sent the children away after dinner and invited Casimir to enjoy port with him. Casimir took that as a good sign. He might gain Mr. Lockhart's blessing yet.

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY

After her bath, George found that her room had been filled with art supplies. Not just a few things, but as though someone had purchased almost an entire stock. Even she couldn't imagine how much it all has cost, but knew that the sum was probably staggering. She found a note from Jack on top of one of the piles.

We weren't sure what you would want but hope this helps.

 ~ J

She ran her fingers over the tubes of oils, the pencils, the pastels, the canvas, the papers in different weights. Although she didn't have the subject she truly wanted to sketch, it was appealing to lose herself in the act of bringing a form to life. Certainly she could find a subject. Perhaps that black cat that kept jumping in the earl's lap whenever he sat for any length of time. Or the charming stable boy who had been sneaking carrots to the carriage horse this morning. She wished that she were better at sketching from memory, but she typically needed her subject in front of her. Or perhaps she should do a still life. Yes, here in the room she could certainly find something that would inspire her. Digging into the wardrobe she found the repaired and cleaned waistcoat that Casimir had worn in their travels to London. She wasn't particularly surprised that he had eschewed it when packing for Derbyshire, as it undoubtedly held unpleasant memories of his time at Robert's hands. But for her, it was what her husband had worn at their wedding. The pattern she had stared at during the pell-mell carriage ride she now recognized as one of the happiest times of her life. Something she most likely needed to grieve the loss of.