She had artfully managed to drop the information that Dominic had invited her to Candlewick for Christmas and she had accepted. Bella had feigned complete surprise, but Georgiana suspected she had known of her brother’s intent. The subtle smugness in her smile suggested as much.
It was Lady Chadwick’s gala tonight. She would see Dominic there, she was sure. They had yet to meet outside a ballroom, but it had only taken a moment or two to work out his strategy. Young and naïve as she was, even she knew any overt gesture on his part, any attention which could not be credited to a natural assistance to his sister’s protégée, would make them the focus of the most intense speculation. She had no wish to figure in the latest on dit, and was grateful for his care of her reputation.
So she had to make do with the caress in his eyes every time they met, the gentle promise of his smile, the touch of his fingers on hers. It was nowhere near enough. She contented herself with the thoughts that, when the time was right, he would surely advance their courtship to the stage where the heady delights he had introduced her to in the library of Massingham House would once again be on their agenda.
Bella had retired to rest before the Chadwick gala. Georgiana had come to her room with a similar intention. But her thoughts denied her sleep. Restless, she jumped off the bed and paced the room in small, swirling steps, then broke into a waltz, spinning about as anticipation took hold. Whirling almost out of control, she did not see the door open, and cannoned into Cruickshank as she entered.
“Oh!” Georgiana put a hand to her whirling head. “Oh, Cruckers! What a start you gave me.”
“I gave you?” said her dour maid, righting herself and shutting the door firmly. “Now, Miss Georgie, whatever’s got into you? Whirling about like a heathen, indeed!”
Georgiana giggled, but made no other reply. She was in love, but she had no intention of letting anyone into the secret. Anyone other than Dominic.
Cruickshank sniffed. “Well, if you’re so wide awake, I’ll get your bath-water brought up. We may as well spend the time beautifying you.”
Georgiana, thinking of the admiration she would see in a pair of bright blue eyes, gladly agreed.
THERE WAS NO supper waltz at the Chadwicks’ gala. Dominic had, instead, claimed both the first and the last waltzes of the evening. Twirling down the long ballroom, under the glare of the chandeliers, Georgiana suddenly realised why it was he always chose a waltz. He was holding her far closer than was the norm. And, when she blushed, all he did was laugh softly and whisper, “As I cannot steal you away, my love, to a place where we might in safety pursue our mutual interest, you can hardly deny this lesser joy.” The look that went with the words only made her blush more.
At the end of the dance, the last waltz of the evening, she was breathless and very nearly witless. Laughingly declining a most sensually worded invitation to take the air on the terrace—a highly dangerous undertaking, she had not a doubt—she whisked herself off to the withdrawing-room. A glass of cool water and a few moments of peace and quiet were all the restorative she needed. It would never do to let Bella see her return from a dance with her brother in such a state. There was, she felt sure, a limit to her friend’s blindness.
When she entered, the withdrawing-room, a large bedchamber on the first floor, was empty of other guests. While she sipped the cool water an attentive maid brought her, Georgiana strolled to the long windows. The cool night air beckoned; Georgiana stepped out on to the small balcony. Behind her, the door of the withdrawing-room opened and shut, but she paid the newcomers no heed.
Not until the words, “Alton’s such a cynical devil. D’you think he means marriage this time?” riveted her attention.
Slowly Georgiana turned to face the room. Standing still and silent in the shadows of the billowing draperies, she was concealed from the occupants, two matrons of considerable years and similar girth. They had dropped into two chairs and were busily fanning themselves while they considered the night’s entertainment.
“Oh, I should think so,” opined one, the fatter, pushing a wilting ostrich plume from over one eye. “After all, why else would he be dancing attendance as he is?”
“But she’s hardly his sort,” countered the other, resplendent in blue bombazine. “Just look at Elaine Changley. What I want to know is why an out-and-outer like Alton should suddenly succumb to a sweet young thing whose charms can’t possibly compare to those he’s become accustomed to.”
“But haven’t you heard?” The fat matron leaned closer to her companion and lowered her voice in conspiratorial fashion. “It’s her land he’s after.” She sat back in her chair and nodded sagely. “Seems she’s inherited a section of land Alton’s been chasing for years.”
“Oh. Well, that sounds more like it. Couldn’t imagine what had come over him.” The blue bombazine rustled and shuffled, then stood and stretched. “Come on, Fanny. If we don’t get back soon, that boy of yours will catch something you’ll wish he hadn’t.”
Frozen, her senses suspended, Georgiana remained on the balcony while the two ladies fussed over the frills on the gowns before departing for the ballroom.
The Place. Georgiana wished she had never heard of it. And, of course, the words rang all too true. According to Bella, it was an obsession of her brother’s. Georgiana’s heart turned to ice, a solid chilled lump in her breast. Slowly, hardly aware of what she was doing, she came back into the room, pausing to place the glass she was carrying on a side-table.
Then she looked up and caught sight of herself in the mirror above the dressing-table. Huge haunted eyes stared back at her, stunned and distressed. She couldn’t go back to the ballroom looking like that.
Drawing a deep breath, Georgiana shook herself, then straightened her shoulders and blinked several times. Pride was not much comfo
rt, but it was all she had left. Determined to think no more about what she had heard until she had the privacy to indulge her tears, she left the room.
Once back in the crowded ballroom, misery hovered, threatening to engulf Georgiana if she relaxed her superhuman effort to ignore the matrons’ words. She had to survive the rest of the gala. But Bella, seeing the stricken look in her friend’s eyes, was immediately concerned.
“No, Georgie! We’ll leave right now. There’s no reason at all we need stay for the rest of this boring party.”
With a determined frown, Bella silenced Georgiana’s protests, and, within minutes, they were ensconced in the carriage and on their way to Green Street.
Bella yawned. “One thing about leaving just that little bit early—you can always get your carriage straight away.” She stretched and settled herself. “Now, what’s the matter?”
But Georgiana had had time to get herself in hand. She had anticipated the question and strove to deflect Bella’s interest. “Nothing specific. It’s just that I seem to have developed a migraine. I find it hard to go on once it comes on.”
“Oh, you poor thing!” exclaimed Bella. “You just lie back quietly. As soon as we’re home, I’ll get Cruickshank to brew a tisane for you. I won’t speak to you any further. Now try to rest.”
Grateful for Bella’s silence, Georgiana sank into her corner of the seat and gave herself up to her chaotic thoughts. After several minutes of totally pointless recollection, she forced herself to view the facts calmly. First of these was the relationship she knew existed between Lord Alton and Lady Changley. There was no doubt it was real—not just from the gossip, but from the evidence of her own eyes, on the terrace that fateful night. The memory of the passionate kiss Lord Alton had bestowed on Lady Changley was imprinted indelibly on her mind. He had never kissed her—let alone with such ardour. She recalled her early conviction that his attitude to her was merely that of helpful friendship, giving what assistance he could to his sister in her efforts to find a husband for her protégée. And his behaviour at the masked ball? Well, she had always thought he had not known who the lady in the topaz silk was. When had he told her he knew? Only a few days ago, long after he had learned of her inheritance. He could easily have found out what she had worn to the ball—from Bella if no one else. And then, too, Bella’s ready acceptance of her sudden happiness could be easily explained if her friend knew her brother was paying court to her.