“Thus, you will now be wooed in form. I will drive you in the park every afternoon, weather permitting. I will escort you to whichever evening functions it is your desire to attend. The ton will be edified by the sight of me at your pretty feet. Therefore, having attained that position, it will be no great difficulty to propose to you at the end of the Season.”
Whereat you’ll accept me. And thank God there’s only a week of the Season to go! Dominic left his last thoughts unsaid, contenting himself with another warm smile. Dropping a last kiss on Georgiana’s fingers, he rose.
“Come, my child. We should return you to the ball before the dowagers start having the vapours.”
THE INTERLUDE in the conservatory disturbed Georgiana more than she had believed possible. She had never before been exposed to, let alone been called upon to withstand, anyone as compelling as Bella’s brother. The magnetic force he wielded was of a magnitude that rendered mere reason impotent. Settled in her corner of the chaise on their way home from Rigdon House, she was conscious that the attractions of Ravello and freedom were dimming in the light of the flame Lord Alton was skilfully igniting.
That he meant to do it, she had not a doubt. Deliberate, calculated, he made no effort to hide his tactics. He wanted the Place. In the darkness of the carriage, Georgiana shivered.
Their discussion had at least relieved her mind of one nagging, guilty worry. He did not and had never loved Lady Changley. Of that, she was certain. She could not decide whether it was the hint of humour that had coloured his voice when he had spoken of his mistress or the coldly unemotional way he had considered her machinations that had convinced her. But convinced she was. Lady Changley might or might not have believed he was in love with her. Whichever way it was, she was only another victim of his lordship’s potent charm.
Unfortunately, all that did was prove he had the ability to make women fall deeply in love with him. It hardly proved that he loved her.
The more she considered the matter, the more she doubted the possibility. Why would such a handsome man, so eligible in every way, with all of the last ten years’ débutantes to choose from—incomparables included—have decided to opt for her? Little Georgiana Hartley, whose head barely topped his shoulder, who knew next to nothing of the fashionable life of England, let alone the political side with which he was so intricately involved. Why had he picked her?
The Place. It was the only answer.
Miserable all over again, Georgiana lay sleepless for a long time after Cruickshank had snuffed her candles. In the dark, she wrestled with demons who all too often had bright blue eyes. He professed love, and she longed to believe him. Yet, when it came down to it, his actions belied his words. Admittedly she had been brought up in Italy, but she couldn’t believe national boundaries changed human nature so very much. True love always brought desire in its wake, as was only right and proper. Yet the chaste kiss he had bestowed on her had held no hint of burning passion. And she knew that wasn’t how he kissed a woman he desired.
Again and again, her thoughts brought her back to the same depressing conclusion. He was an expert in seduction; she was a novice. Her hand in marriage would secure the Place, so he had calmly set about capturing it. In the world of the ton, it would be considered a very fair exchange—her land for the position and wealth he could provide.
As the hours of the night gave way to a grey dawn, Georgiana considered for the first time whether she might be wise to listen to the promptings of her heart, to accept the proposal he had told her was coming, even knowing that her love wasn’t shared. She knew he would always treat her well—with respect and affection, if not with the love she craved. She would fill the position of his wife, be able to care for him, bear his children.
A vision of Candlewick swam before her, and she spent some time imagining what might be. But she could not place him in the picture beside her. Instead, he appeared as a nebulous figure, arriving in the dead of night, leaving with the dawn.
With a sob, Georgiana buried her face in her pillow. No. It was impossible. If she couldn’t have his love, the rest was meaningless. She would leave for Ravello as soon as the Season ended.
CHAPTER TEN
“HUMPH!”
The loud snort brought Georgiana awake with a start. Cruickshank stood by the bed.
“You’d better wake up and take a look at these.”
With a grim look, Cruickshank drew back the bed curtains. The window drapes had already been opened, letting weak morning sunshine bathe the room. For an instant Georgiana stared uncomprehendingly at her maid, then her attention was drawn to the door. It opened to admit a young girl, one of the parlour maids, all but concealed behind a huge stand of cream roses.
The girl peeked at Georgiana around the delicate blooms, then, with a giggle, crossed to deposit the vase on a table by the window.
To Georgiana’s astonishment, her place in the doorway was immediately taken by another maid, similarly burdened. When a third maid entered, with yet more cream roses, Georgiana put her hands to her hot cheeks. Cream roses in October!
Hundreds of cream roses.
By the time the procession of maids had transferred all the blooms delivered to the house by the florist’s that morning to her bedroom, Georgiana was speechless. She sat and stared. The sheer outrageous extravagance of the gesture numbed her. About her, the delicate perfume of the flowers took hold, flavouring the air with their subtle enchantment.
She needed no card to tell her who had sent them.
At the Rigdons’ ball, he had vowed to woo her formally. His public courtship had started that night, when he had returned her to Bella’s side but remained possessively beside her, discouraging all her partners but those he approved of simply by being there. The next day he had swooped down on her morning and taken her driving to Richmond, later producing a picnic hamper for lunch and taking her to the Star and Garter for tea. It was impossible to stand firm against the invitation of his smile. He would accept no denials. Powerless to prevent his whirlwind courtship, she had, unwillingly, reluctantly, been swept along, mesmerised by the blue of his eyes. The following evening she had
seen the effects of his strategy. As far as the ton was concerned, only the ceremony was required to establish her as the Viscountess Alton.
In the four days that had followed, each filled with unsought joy and a hidden despair, he had succeeded in convincing everyone that theirs would be a marriage made in heaven, until it seemed to Georgiana that only she guessed the truth.
Her moods fluctuated wildly, from ecstatic pleasure when he was with her, to blackest despair when he was not. She was counting the days to the end of the Season, to when Bella and Arthur departed for Candlewick and she could flee to Ravello and safety. She had even tried to sound Arthur out on the possibility of leaving before then. But he had looked at her blankly, seeming not to understand her oblique reference. Incapable of being more explicit, she had been forced to let the matter drop.
Cream roses surrounded her. Her consciousness was filled with him to the exclusion of all else. Georgiana sighed.
Only Cruickshank remained in the room, fussing over laying out her clothes, sharp eyes stealing covert glances, trying to assess her reaction.