Miss in a Man's World (11 page)

 

‘Oh, isn't this exciting, Georgie!' Lady Sophia exclaimed, helping to unpack the stack of boxes which had arrived from various milliners and mantua-makers that very morning. ‘Now we shall both be dressed in the height of fashion for Lady Pickering's party tomorrow night, and our very own ball on Friday.'

‘Your ball, Sophie,' Georgiana corrected. ‘At three-and-twenty I'm well past the age for embarking on a come-out. I'm here simply because your father wished it. I fully intend to sit by the wall with all the other slowly fading blooms and revel in your success.'

‘Faded bloom, indeed!' Sophia scoffed. ‘You'll never be a wallflower, Georgie. You're far too lovely. What's more, no one would ever suppose you're that old. I swear in some lights you look little older than I do!'

‘It's lucky for you, Sophie, that I happen to know there's not an ounce of spite in you anywhere, otherwise I'd be tempted to box your ears for that backhanded compliment,' Georgiana declared, half-laughing. ‘But seriously,' she added, plumping herself down on to the bed, smile fading, ‘I didn't come here with the intention of finding a husband.'

Unbidden, a pair of frighteningly penetrating dark eyes, set in a ruggedly masculine face, appeared in her mind's eye yet again to evoke that painful longing that had rarely left her during many long and lonely months. ‘You see, Sophie, I do not believe I shall ever meet anyone to equal the very particular gentleman of my…of my dreams.'

Sophia clapped her hands delightedly, displaying all the enthusiasm of youth. ‘Oh, is he some imaginary knight in shining armour—tall and dark and handsome?'

Georgiana considered for a moment ‘You're two parts right, at any rate—he's definitely tall and dark. But by no stretch of the imagination would one consider him a Sir Galahad, although one never knows just how he might react in certain situations. He doesn't lack for courage, that's for sure.' She stared for a moment at one
ornately carved bedpost. ‘So long as he doesn't turn out to be my particular nemesis.'

Sophia, all at once, looked doubtful. ‘I shouldn't like to meet anyone like that,' she declared. ‘He sounds frightening, not a very personable gentleman at all.'

‘Oh, he can be very agreeable when the mood takes him,' Georgiana assured her. Then, noticing she was being regarded with keen interest, hurriedly got to her feet to continue the unpacking.

Sophia, however, was not to be so easily diverted. ‘You've met him already!' she divined triumphantly.

Georgiana raised her shoulders, desperately striving to appear nonchalant. ‘And where, pray, do you suppose I met my Sir Galahad? Back home you're acquainted with most everyone I know. Do you know of anyone who fits the description? I most certainly do not.'

‘True,' Sophia acknowledged, with a speculative glint in her eyes. ‘But what about that time last year when you travelled to Bath with Grandmama and me, and then disappeared for those few weeks?'

‘You know full well I took the opportunity to stay with my cousin and her family near Oxford. It was just unfortunate I wasn't able to shake off that terrible chill whilst there, and that foolish practitioner insisted I cut my hair.'

Georgiana hated lying to the girl whom she looked upon as a young sister, but felt she had no choice. Sophia and her younger brother Richard were not privy to all the details surrounding their father's death, and their grandmother wished it to remain that way, at least for the present.

‘So I cannot imagine how you suppose I became acquainted with the gentleman of my dreams. I'm not in the habit of receiving members of the opposite sex
in my bedchamber. So pray do not attempt to spread such a rumour abroad. I do not wish to become the butt of the gossips' ill humour.'

It was at this point that both young women realised they were no longer alone in the room. Just how long the Dowager had been standing by the door was impossible to judge. All the same, her face wore an extremely thoughtful expression, as though something had displeased her.

‘Leave this now, my dears,' she said. ‘The maids will finish the unpacking. The dancing master has arrived, Sophia, and awaits you in the ballroom. Georgiana, be good enough to accompany me to my private apartments before joining the lesson. There is something I must discuss with you, child. Unfortunately it can wait no longer.'

More intrigued than anything else, Georgiana obliged her ladyship by accompanying her to her private little sanctum further along the passageway. That something was troubling the elderly lady deeply was obvious. She knew the Dowager had received a visit from Lady Pickering that morning, and couldn't help wondering whether it was the visitor who had brought some disturbing tidings.

Although they had refrained from accepting any evening engagements thus far, they had been in London nearly a whole month and had been out and about visiting the fashionable shops, and paying morning calls on certain of the Dowager's close friends. A disturbing possibility therefore quickly occurred for the Dowager's present melancholy mood.

‘Ma'am, clearly you are troubled over something,' she ventured, when all her ladyship did was to stare down broodingly at the coals burning in the hearth.
‘I trust your good friend Lady Pickering was not the bearer of bad news?'

There was no response.

‘Have I had the misfortune to have been recognised by someone already?'

The sigh that followed the question was clearly audible. ‘If only it were that!'

Very slowly the Dowager raised her head to stare across the hearth. Suddenly she appeared very weary and considerably older than her years. ‘Child,' she began softly, ‘has it never occurred to you to wonder just why my son loved you as though you were his own daughter, not merely his godchild?'

Georgiana wished with all her heart that she could dismiss it as errant nonsense, but she was too honest a person even to attempt to try. Recollections of half-whispered words, rumours and lingering looks of affection that had faded since her mother's demise some six years before returned with a vengeance.

‘I know the late Earl and my mother were once engaged to be married, and that my mother broke off the engagement when your eldest son died and my godfather became heir. She told me once she felt unequal to take on the duties of a countess, and so for the good of all concerned she broke off the engagement to enable my godfather to marry someone more suitable.'

The Dowager gave vent to a mirthless cackle. ‘Told you that, did she? Dear Frances, it would seem, remained loyal to me to the end,' the Dowager revealed, an unmistakable catch in her voice.

‘Ma'am, I do not perfectly understand what you are trying to tell me.'

‘No, child, I know you do not, and it is high time
you knew all… It might help you to understand, and to deal with a certain unfortunate matter that has arisen.'

With the aid of her ebony stick the Dowager rose to her feet and went to stand by the window. ‘My son loved you, child, just as he always loved your mother. He never ceased to love her. And it is to my everlasting shame, everlasting self-reproach, that I succeeded in persuading her to break off the engagement so that my son could marry Matilda Castleford, a woman he came to hold in high regard until the day she died, but never truly loved.'

Although she was naturally shocked to learn this, Georgiana was able to say with absolute conviction, ‘My mother must have understood your reasons, ma'am, for I never once heard her utter a word against you…not ever.'

‘No, dear God, I only wish she had!' Once again there was a betraying tremor in the Dowager's voice. ‘I adored your mother,' she admitted, breaking the short silence. ‘Frances was a lovely girl. She and William were close as children, and that bond between them was never broken. Your mother was a member of an old and respected family. As you are well aware, your late grandfather was the youngest son of Lord Brent. Consequently, she would have made my younger son a suitable wife. I was guilty of encouraging their close association; until, that is, William's elder brother died so unexpectedly and he became heir. My husband's reckless gaming in later life left the family with a mountain of debts. William had to marry an heiress… And that was the one thing your dear mother was not. She was raised in comfort at the vicarage, not luxury. She had no dowry to speak of.'

Raising her eyes from the imaginary spot on the
carpet, the Dowager discovered Georgiana gnawing at her bottom lip, a sure indication that what she had learned had genuinely distressed her. ‘My dear, I wish I could have spared you this, but I dare not. And that is why I must ask you yet again—did you never wonder why my son took such a keen interest in you? Why he chose to spend so much time in your company? Why, when your grandfather died, he moved you into one of the houses on the estate and provided you with a suitable companion, so that you might reside there quite independently?'

‘Ma'am, I would need to be a halfwit not to know what you're hinting at,' Georgina responded in a calm and dignified manner that concealed quite beautifully her rising anger. ‘But even to suggest such a thing is to discredit my mother, who is no longer here to defend her good name, and makes a figure of ridicule of my late father, a brave man who gave his life in the service of his country, not to mention dishonours the memory of your own son.'

‘Believe me, the last thing I should wish to do is dishonour anyone, least of all you,' the Dowager quickly admitted. ‘I have watched you grow over the years into the image of your lovely mother. You have been blessed to inherit many of her fine qualities. Furthermore, you do not lack for courage or sense. Whether these traits were inherited from the late Colonel George Grey or the late Earl matters little. It is how people have interpreted my son's regard for you. And it is those whom he possibly offended, and who still bear a grudge against him, who are intent on besmirching his memory.'

All Georgiana's anger disappeared in an instant and she felt moved by the Dowager's obvious concern. ‘Oh, I think I begin to understand,' she revealed. ‘Unless I
much mistake the matter, Lady Pickering came here to warn you of a rumour circulating about me being the late Earl's bastard.'

The Dowager didn't attempt to deny it. ‘Believe me, child, I would be proud to call you granddaughter, but I truly do not happen to believe we are related by blood. Your mother was the most honourable woman. I sincerely believe she named you after your father, but it doesn't matter what I believe. None the less, I shouldn't want you to be distressed by some wicked gossip's acid tongue, so shall quite understand if you should wish to return to the country.'

Smiling faintly, Georgiana rose to her feet. ‘I am my father's daughter and shall not turn tail and run at the first sign of adversity. Rumours cannot harm me, your ladyship. Firstly, because I know they are untrue; and, secondly, because I am not here to find a husband. I am here to discover who killed a man I loved and respected and who stood in place of a father.'

No one could have mistaken the respect shining in the Dowager's eyes. ‘There is one other thing you should know, my dear child,' she announced, arresting Georgiana's progress across to the door. ‘Apparently, Viscount Fincham has arrived in town and Lady Pickering has every expectation of seeing him at her party tomorrow night.'

Only for a second or two did Georgiana's fingers tremble as she reached for the handle of the door. ‘In that case, ma'am, I'd best not tarry in joining Sophia in the ballroom. I must master all the dances, lest he should ask me to stand up with him.'

The instant she had closed the door quietly behind her, Georgiana released her breath in a long sigh. All at once her heart was racing and her palms felt sticky.
The day she had longed for and dreaded by turns had at last arrived! With all her heart she longed to set eyes on that unforgettable, sardonic countenance again. Yet she couldn't suppress a frisson of fear at his possible reaction, for she didn't doubt for a moment that he would recognise her.

 

Georgiana felt as nervous as Sophia as they left the mansion that evening, and travelled the short distance to Lady Pickering's fashionable London residence to enjoy their first social engagement of the Season. No expense had been spared and they were both dressed in those high-waisted gowns that had become so fashionable and were admirably well suited to their trim figures. The Dowager had engaged the services of an experienced abigail whose skill at dressing hair had resulted in Georgiana's glossy black tresses being artistically arranged in a Grecian style, with curling wisps feathering her cheeks. Sophia's fair locks had been arranged in a simpler style that more suited her tender years, as did the pastel shade of her charming gown. Georgiana, being some five years her senior, had been inclined to choose darker shades for most of her dresses and that evening had selected to wear an amber silk creation for her first real venture into London's polite society.

One quick glance around Lady Pickering's elegant drawing room was enough to assure Georgiana that Viscount Fincham was not there. Taller than average height, he always stood out in a crowd. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed not to find him there, but was hardly given time to consider her contrasting feelings. No sooner had she and Sophia seated themselves against a wall than two personable young gentlemen requested their hands for the first set
of country dances taking place in an adjoining salon. Sophia didn't attempt to hide her delight; Georgiana was somewhat less gratified, though she did her utmost to conceal the fact.

The truth of the matter was she had grown accustomed over the years to receiving admiring glances from members of the opposite sex. Times without number she'd heard herself being compared to her mother, and although it had always pleased her to think she had inherited her mother's good looks, she didn't believe she was in the least vain. In fact, she liked to think the opposite was true. Although she was grateful to Mother Nature for favouring her with a better-than-average countenance, she much preferred to be with people who took little notice of her fine looks. Her godfather had been just such a one, and so was her ever-loyal servant, Digby. Then, of course, Lord Fincham had very much fallen into this same category. More often than not he had treated her as though she had been some troublesome urchin. And she had loved the novelty of it all!