Dominic paused, hand on the door-handle. “It would be best if this was done with as little fuss as possible. I’ll bring her back here.”
And with that grim promise he was gone, leaving Bella with nothing to do but sink back on the chaise, wondering if Georgiana was strong enough to weather both Harry Edgcombe’s advances and Dominic’s temper.
DOMINIC DIDN’T bother with his carriage. As the hackney he’d hired pulled up outside 17 Jermyn Street, he reflected that the anonymity of the hack was an added advantage, distinctly preferable to his carriage with his liveried coachman. Instructing the driver to wait for him, he ascended the three steps to the polished oak door and beat a resounding tattoo. Heaven help Harry if he’d gone too far.
The door was opened by a very correct gentleman’s gentleman. Recognising the Viscount, he smiled politely. “I’m afraid his lordship is currently engaged, m’lord.”
“I know that. I’m here to disengage him.”
And with that the astonished retainer was set firmly aside. Dominic closed the door behind him. His gaze swept the hallway and found Cruickshank, seated in a stiff-backed chair in the shadows. Surprised, she came to her feet.
“Where’s your mistress?”
Trained to respond to the voice of authority, Cruickshank immediately bobbed a curtsy. “In the drawing-room, m’lord.” With a nod, she indicated the door opposite her chair.
Stripping off his gloves and handing them, together with his cane, to Lord Edgcombe’s bemused valet, Dominic said, “I suggest you return to Winsmere House. I will be taking your mistress to meet Lady Winsmere. I would imagine they’ll return home in a few hours. Should Lord Winsmere enquire, you may inform him they’re in my charge.”
Bright blue eyes met faded blue. Cruickshank hesitated, then bobbed again in acquiescence. “Very good, m’lord.”
With Lord Edgcombe’s valet distracted by Cruickshank’s departure, Dominic strolled forward and, after a fractional hesitation, opened the drawing-room door.
The sight which met his eyes would have made him laugh if he hadn’t been so angry. Georgiana was seated in a chair by the hearth and had clearly been listening with her customary intentness to one of Harry’s tales. He was leaning against the mantelpiece, negligently attired in a green smoking jacket, his pose calculated to impress the viewer with his particular brand of assured arrogance. Despite himself, Dominic’s lips twitched. The door shut behind him with a sharp click. Both fair heads turned his way.
While most of his attention was centred on Georgiana, Dominic did not miss the relief which showed fleetingly in Harry’s eyes. Relieved in turn of its most urgent worry, his mind went on to register the expression in Georgiana’s hazel gaze. Total innocence. Then, as he watched, she blushed deliciously and, flustered, looked away.
Inwardly, Dominic smiled. He did not make the mistake of imagining her sudden consciousness was due to delayed guilt on being discovered in such a compromising situation. Oh, no—he was the cause of Georgiana’s blushes, not Harry. Which fact compensated at least in part for his agony of the past ten minutes.
An interested spect
ator to Georgiana’s reaction, Harry pushed away from the mantelpiece, a smile of real mirth lighting his face. “Ah, Dominic. I wondered how long you’d be.”
Acknowledging this greeting, and the information it contained, by shaking Harry’s offered hand, Dominic turned to find Georgiana rising to her feet.
“I had no idea… I wasn’t expecting…”
“Me to arrive so soon?” suggested Dominic. He advanced upon his love, capturing one delicate hand and raising it to his lips. “I finished my business rather earlier than I had hoped. I take it you’ve finished yours?”
Georgiana was completely bemused. The last person she had thought to meet this afternoon was Lord Alton. And none of his words, nor Lord Edgcombe’s, seemed to make any sense. Entirely at sea, she simply stared into his lordship’s blue eyes, traitorously hoping he would take charge.
“No sign of these paintings, I’m afraid,” put in Lord Edgcombe, shaking his head. He added in explanation to Dominic, “Moscombe has been with me since I moved here, and he insists the place was completely empty. Even the attics.”
Dominic nodded, and tucked Georgiana’s hand into its accustomed place in the crook of his arm. “It was a long shot. Still,” he added, blue eyes intent on Harry, “no harm done.”
Harry’s eyes widened in mock alarm. “None in the least, I assure you.” Then a gleam of wicked amusement lit his grey eyes. “Mind you, it did occur to me that Miss Hartley might like to view my art collection.”
Dominic’s black brows rose. “Your etchings, perhaps?”
Harry grinned. “Just so.”
“Etchings?” queried Georgiana.
“Never mind!” said Dominic in the voice of a man goaded. He gazed down into wide hazel eyes and wished they were in his drawing-room rather than Harry’s. “Come,” he added in gentler tones. “I’ll return you to Bella.”
Walking beside him to the door, Georgiana struggled to free enough of her mind from its preoccupation with Lord Alton to make sense of what was going on. Emerging into the hall, she looked about for Cruickshank.
“I’ve sent your maid on.” Dominic was beside her, holding her coat.
“Oh,” said Georgiana, suddenly aware of a disturbing glint in his lordship’s blue eyes. Did that mean she would be travelling in a closed carriage alone with him?