Miss in a Man's World (7 page)

Charles waited for the Viscount to make himself comfortable in the chair opposite before satisfying his
curiosity over something. ‘Have you always known her true sex?'

‘I was suspicious from the first,' he confided, smiling reminiscently. ‘But I swiftly became convinced of the fact when I chanced to pass her on the road that day and conveyed her to London. What she intended to do upon reaching the capital, I have no notion. I truly believe it was I who first put the nonsensical notion of becoming a page into her head.' He shrugged. ‘I suppose I felt obliged to offer her the protection of my home after such foolishness on my part.'

‘And now?' Charles asked, when the Viscount fell silent, merely staring down into his glass.

‘Now, more than anything, I want her to confide in me fully so that I might aid her if I can. Believe me, she is no light-minded schoolgirl indulging in some lark, of that I'm absolutely certain. No, there is some very real purpose in this masquerade of hers. I believe, too, that she is older than I first supposed, perhaps as much as one-and-twenty, though she appears much younger.'

He paused for a moment to sample his wine. ‘She is both a charming and intelligent young woman, Charles. She must appreciate herself that she cannot possibly continue with the deception indefinitely. Nature alone will decree that. If she were to keep to her room for a few days each month, the servants would certainly become suspicious. But I hope she might avoid that embarrassment by confiding in me long before then. If, however, I find that I can no longer trust myself to treat her like the innocent I know her to be, then I shall enlist the aid of my sister-in-law.' He couldn't resist a further smile as he said this. ‘Eleanor, quite naturally, will be shocked. But she has a fondness for me and a good heart. She will take the girl in, if I ask it of her.'

Charles, a look of admiration in his eyes, gazed across at his friend. ‘What you're doing is damnably good, Finch.'

The Viscount dismissed this with a wave of one hand. ‘Nonsense! I'm merely preventing myself from becoming bored. Playing the protector will amuse me for a while longer, but eventually I shall grow weary of it. Then I shall find a new distraction.'

‘I wonder if you shall,' Charles returned softly. ‘I wonder if you really appreciate fully yourself just why you're so determined to help this girl.'

‘Oh, that's far too deep for me, dear boy,' the Viscount responded with yet a further dismissive wave of his hand.

 

The following day, after seeing his friend safely on his way, the Viscount sent for his page. She came tripping lightly into the library a few minutes later, Ronan, tail wagging merrily, at her heels, just as though they had been lifelong companions. Undeniably there was an elfin quality about Georgie at times that certainly made her appear far younger than her years, he decided, setting aside his papers so that he might favour her with his full attention. Clearly the outrageous little baggage enjoyed the freedom her boy's raiment afforded her. And it was true to say that for the most part she did make a passable lad, he mused. At least the servants hadn't rumbled her secret as yet. Perhaps it was only with him that she ever allowed her guard to drop.

He smiled at this very satisfying thought as he beckoned her over to the desk. ‘Now, Georgie, I have instructed Brindle to make ready for our removal to Fincham Park early on Friday morning, so I expect you to make ready also.'

The initial response was not what he might have expected, or hoped. That wonderful smile disappeared in an instant, and there was a definite troubled look dulling the normal healthy sparkle in her eyes.

‘What's amiss, child? Do you not wish to accompany me into the country?'

‘I-I hadn't considered it, sir,' she responded, staring meditatively down at the desk. ‘I suppose I thought you'd be staying in town until the Season had drawn to a close.'

‘I have been known to do so,' he admitted. ‘But this year I wish to leave early. I believe the country air will do us both good, enable us to relax a little more together.' No response was forthcoming. ‘Is there a particular reason why you wish to remain in town?'

She appeared to consider for a moment or two, then, ‘No, now you come to mention it, I don't suppose there is, really. But—but, might I borrow pen and paper to make a list of some—er—necessities I must purchase and take with me, my lord?'

‘Be my guest,' he invited, obligingly rising to his feet so that she might make use of his chair. ‘It just so happens I must needs consult one of my ledgers.'

He left her to seat herself while he wandered across the room to extract the leather-bound tome he required from one of the shelves. He then made himself comfortable in a chair by the hearth so that she might enjoy privacy. He was fairly certain, as he surreptitiously studied that slender white hand moving back and forth across the page, that it was not a list she was composing, but a letter. Naturally he was curious to discover to whom she was writing, but resisted the temptation to pry, and merely said, ‘Was it the good vicar who taught you to write?'

There was a suspicion of a twitch at the corner of her mouth. ‘And my mother. She was not an illiterate, my lord.'

‘I never for a moment supposed she was,' he assured her, and then remained silent so that she might finish the missive in peace.

The instant she had sanded down the letter, she left him alone, and he wandered across to the window. As expected, within minutes he saw her leave the house, Ronan, again, at her heels, their destination a complete mystery. Of one thing he was convinced—she was letting someone know where she was bound…

Therefore she was not totally alone in the world. Someone, somewhere, was concerned about her.

 

Although the journey was completed in a day, the afternoon was well advanced before the small cavalcade passed between the impressive wrought-iron gates of Fincham Park's northern entrance.

The Viscount had allowed Georgie to spend part of the journey perched up on the box with the head groom, but had insisted she sit inside the well-sprung travelling carriage with him for the last stage. He had wanted to see the expression on those lovely features when she caught her first glimpse of the ancestral home of which he was secretly so very proud, and she didn't disappoint him. Perfectly shaped lips parted and eyes widened in wonder as the carriage journeyed along the sweep of the drive and the mansion at last came into view.

The original part of the house had been con structed in the early sixteen hundreds. Although extensive alterations and additions made during the first half of the previous century by both his lordship's grandfather and great-grandfather had resulted in the mansion more
than doubling in size, the architectural splendour of the original building had been maintained.

‘You approve my ancestral home, child?' he remarked, as the carriage drew to a halt before the impressive front entrance.

‘Oh, it is truly splendid, sir!' she enthused, much to his satisfaction. ‘So fine and well proportioned,' she added, alighting before him.

‘Ah! So you are something of an expert when it comes to the finer points of good architecture,' he teased gently, but she didn't appear offended.

‘Not at all, my lord,' she returned. ‘I just know what I find aesthetically pleasing.'

‘Well said, child!' he approved. ‘I sincerely trust you will find the interior equally to your taste,' and so saying he led the way into the wood-panelled hall, where he discovered his trusty major-domo hovering in the shadows.

As was the custom, the butler had left London three days before in order to ensure all was in readiness at the ancestral home of the Finchams for the arrival of its master. From what his lordship could see his diligent head servant had not failed in his duties yet again.

‘Our rooms are ready, I trust?' he remarked, after handing the butler his outdoor garments and receiving a bow in confirmation. ‘Then be good enough to show Master Green his bedchamber. When you're settled into your new quarters, Georgie, you may join me in the library. And if I am feeling particularly well disposed towards you, you might even persuade me to take you on a guided tour of my home. We shall see.' With that he wandered across the hall to his sanctum, smiling to himself.

He could not help wondering what Georgie herself
thought of the preferential treatment she had received since entering his employ. She was far too astute not to have long since appreciated that she was not looked upon as a mere servant. Perhaps she believed she was just her eccentric master's pampered pet, or maybe she supposed it was reward for her acts of courage on those two occasions when she had come to his aid. Who could say? What his servants thought of his behaviour towards Master Green was quite another matter, however.

After closing his library door, the Viscount poured himself a glass of wine before settling himself in his favourite winged-chair by the hearth. He considered it safe to assume that Georgie was more conscious of the role she was assuming when in the company of the servants. Even so, there must have been a deal of speculation about his own treatment of his page. It was quite possible that several below stairs had suspected Georgie might be the fruit of their master's own loins, or maybe even the illegitimate offspring of a close friend of his lordship. They could speculate all they wished, as far as he was concerned, so long as her true sex was not discovered.

It was just as this very troubling possibility yet again crossed his mind that the object of his concerns sauntered brazenly into the room, after the lightest of taps on the door, and appearing as though she'd not a care in the world. Really, he ought to reprimand her for such forwardness! But how could he when he had actively encouraged her to take such liberties with him? Furthermore, her behaviour was so natural where he was concerned that it seemed almost safe to assume that, at some stage in her life, some person of high standing, somewhere, had allowed her equal freedoms, and to
behave in a most casual way, because it was patently second nature for her to do so… It was all so damnably intriguing!

 

A short time later his lordship was fulfilling his promise and showing Georgie round his country home. After exploring each and every ground-floor room, Lord Fincham led the way up the ornately carved Jacobean staircase to the upper floor, where a long and well-lit picture gallery granted access to both east and west wings. It was here that Georgie betrayed most interest, studying each portrait of his lordship's ancestors in turn, before pausing before one of the present holder of the title, painted only a few months after he had attained the viscountcy.

‘You do not approve, child,' he remarked, observing the slight frown. ‘It is considered a fine painting by most.'

‘I'm sure it is, sir. Just as I'm certain the artist is extremely skilful. It's a pity, though, he captured you in such a bad humour.' She turned her head on one side as she continued to study the likeness. ‘You do have a way of looking down your long nose that way, it's true—most especially when in a haughty frame of mind. More often than not, though, there's a glint in your eyes that proves you're not really in a bad mood. I've witnessed it often when you've been speaking with me,' she continued ingenuously. ‘But it's lacking in this picture. Of course, you were still mourning the loss of your brother. But it isn't so much sadness I see in your eyes as anger…or bitterness, maybe. No, you were definitely not yourself.'

Dear God, he reflected, how right she was! He'd never considered it before, but he was now seeing the
painting through new eyes. In the months after his return from France he'd been both angry and resentful at the way Charlotte Vane had behaved towards him. He'd hardened his heart, and with very few exceptions had allowed no females to get close to him, most especially those with whom he had since enjoyed more intimate relations. Over the years he had thought less and less of the woman who had destroyed his youthful romantic notions in that single act of treachery. In recent weeks he'd recalled her to mind not at all. Was this simply because she had not put in an appearance in town throughout the entire Season…or for a different reason entirely?

He raised his eyes from that imaginary spot on the wooden floor to discover a violet pair regarding him with keen interest and smiled. ‘You are right, child. This is not a particularly good likeness. It is high time I commissioned another—one that captures the true character of this handsome, debonair aristocrat. What say you?'

There was no mistaking the glinting mischief now dancing in her eyes. ‘It all depends whether you want the artist to paint an honest representation, or merely pander to your ego.'

He adopted the haughty pose of his likeness on the wall before them. ‘Do I infer correctly from that, that you do not consider me an Adonis, child?'

‘Since you ask…no, not particularly,' she returned, at her most candid. ‘You have strong, regular features, a face of character not masculine beauty. That said, I do not consider you ill looking—far from it, in fact.'

Ignoring his twitching smile, she considered him for a moment. ‘I think, though, if you are seriously considering sitting again for a new portrait, you should
adopt the new mode of attire advocated by Brummell. I saw him first at the Duke and Duchess of Merton's ball, remember? I didn't know who he was then, of course. It was only later I discovered his identity, when we visited that gaming house, and he happened to put in an appearance shortly before we left. But I did think his attire most becoming. Like yourself, my lord, he's a most striking gentleman. It's just a pity that most of those who are now attempting to ape him fall far short of his high standards.'

‘And you would expect me to become one of their number?' He paused to remove a speck of fluff from his heavily embroidered dark blue coat. ‘I think not.'