He dropped his head back against the deeply padded leather. He had tried to tell himself she was too young, little more than a schoolgirl. Any liaison between them would be virtually cradle-snatching. But, whenever he thought along such lines, Arthur’s and Bella’s happiness would rise up to mock him. And, even worse, Georgiana no longer looked like a schoolgirl. Every time they met, Fancon’s gowns, or, rather, the delectable shape they displayed, shredded his well rehearsed rationalisations.
But enough was enough. According to Bella, Georgiana was making herself ill over some no-hoper. He had no right to intervene. Not, that was, unless he wished to take their interaction further, to make some positive move in her direction. And that, he was not yet prepared to do.
If Bella, or anyone else, got a whiff of his possible intentions, there would be no chance of wooing her in private. Their every meeting would be watched over by dozens of gimlet eyes. Every word, every expression would be duly noted and analysed. He couldn’t subject her to that, not when he wasn’t sure what he wanted of her.
Experience, however, was on his side. If he wished, he did not doubt he could create the necessary opportunities to advance his cause, without alerting every gossip-monger in the ton. He smiled. There was an undeniable challenge in such an enterprise. The snag was, he was not yet sure. Not sure of what he felt for her. Not sure of what he would do once he was certain the odd feeling in his chest was more than infatuation.
It had taken him three weeks to reach his present state of acknowledged indecision. He had no intention of enduring the situation for much longer, particularly if Georgiana threatened to pine away before his very eyes. Still, how did one test an infatuation? Never having suffered such an emotion before, he had no real idea how to proceed.
The clock in the corner ticked ponderously, marking his heartbeats. His eyes grew unfocused as he stared at the flames slowly dying around the charred log. Finally he stirred. He drained his glass, then rose to return it to the tray. He relighted his bedroom candle at the candelabrum, then snuffed the five long candles it held.
In the soft flickering light of the single flame, he made his way to the door.
If he wanted to burn out his obsession with Georgiana Hartley, there was only one way to go about it. He needed to meet with her often, in every possible context, to see all her faults and blemishes, the little incompatibilities which would reduce her status in his mind to one of a mere acquaintance. That was the only way forward.
And, if it proved to be more than infatuation, it was high time he faced up to the truth. And acted.
“I TOLD YOU everyone would be here.” Bella stopped on the lawn below the terrace. Tucking her furled parasol under one arm, she retied the strings of her new bonnet in a jaunty bow beneath one ear. “Lady Jersey’s entertainments are always well attended, particularly when they’re held here.”
“Here” was Osterley Park, and the entertainment in question was an alfresco luncheon. To Georgiana, standing patiently by her friend’s side, it seemed as if the entire ton was gathered on the manicured lawns sloping gently away from the Palladian mansion to the shrubberies and parkland beyond. “Lady Lyncombe is nodding to us. Over there on the left.”
Bella turned and bowed politely to the portly matron, who had three gangling girls in tow. “Poor dear. Freckle-faced, the lot of them. She’ll never get them off her hands.”
Georgiana stifled a giggle. “Surely it can’t be that bad. They might be quite nice young girls.”
“They can be as nice as they please, but they’ll need something more to recommend them to the eligible gentlemen.” Bella sighed, in keeping with her worldly-wise pose.
Strolling by her side, Georgiana wondered what it was that recommended her to the gentlemen. Certainly not her looks, for, in her estimation, these were only passing fair. And her fortune was, she suspected, so small as to be negligible. Yet she had received four offers. Despite the fact that she had wished to avoid each one, the very existence of four eligible offers was no small fillip to her confidence.
Smiling and bowing to acquaintances, they strolled the length of the lawn to where three gaily striped marquees had been erected. One housed the beverages; one protected the food. The third was a withdrawing-room of sorts, where ladies feeling the effects of the sun could rest before rejoining the crush.
And it certainly was a crush. The broad expanses were filled with swirling muslins and starchy cambrics, parasols and elegantly cut morning coats dotting the colourful scene. It was difficult to see more than ten feet in any direction. Registering this fact, Georgiana turned to Bella to point out the advisability of staying close together. Too late.
“If you’re looking for Bella, she’s fallen victim to Lady Molesworth.”
Georgiana looked up into Viscount Alton’s blue eyes. He was smiling, and she noted the set of small lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. Such a handsome face. Entranced, she forgot her role of sister’s companion and smiled warmly back.
Dominic expertly captured her hand and conveyed it to his lips. He caught his breath when she smiled with such guileless joy. For one instant, he could almost believe…
A sudden intentness in Lord Alton’s gaze brought Georgiana to her senses. “Oh! Er—where exactly?” She flustered and blushed, and turned away as if looking for Bella, to cover her confusion.
“No, no. This way.” Dominic’s voice was gentle, softened by an emotion he couldn’t quite define.
Georgiana looked where he indicated—to the right—and found Bella deep in discussion with Lord Molesworth’s mother—she who had decreed Georgiana could not do other than marry her son.
Dominic recalled Bella’s mention of the luckless Viscount. His grin grew. “Perhaps,” he said, “as Bella is so absorbed, I could escort you on a ramble by the lake. It’s really much more pleasant than being packed amid all this crowd. Unless you’re famished?” One black brow rose interrogatively.
“Oh, no,” Georgiana disclaimed. She bit her lip. The prospect of a stroll in less cramped surroundings was very tempting. But could she weather such an excursion with Lord Alton? Were her nerves up to it? She glanced up at him and found him regarding her quizzically, as if trying to read her mind. As she watched, a faintly satirical gleam entered the very blue eyes, and his brows rose slightly, as if in challenge. Puzzled, she put aside her misgivings. “If it wouldn’t be too boring for you.”
With a laugh, Dominic offered her his arm. When she laid one small hand on his sleeve, he covered it with his other hand. “My dear Miss Hartley—or can I call you Georgiana?” He felt the hand under his quiver. His brows rose again. He looked down into her golden eyes. “Oh, yes. Surely, in the circumstances, I can claim that privilege?”
Georgiana had no idea how she should answer. But her nerves were already a-tingle, and she didn’t have the capacity to cope with distractions. So she merely inclined her head in assent. “If it pleases you, my lord.”
Oh, it pleased him. In fact Dominic felt inordinately pleased with that small success. “As I was saying, my dear Georgiana,” he continued, deftly steering her clear of Lord Harrow, another of her present encumbrances, “your company is forever entertaining. Tell me, which of your suitors do you favour?”
Now what on earth was she to answer to that? Georgiana thought quickly, then assumed a bored air. “Why, in truth, I’d not given the matter much thought, my lord.” She heard a deep chuckle. “It’s all so fatiguing, this marriage game.” Lassitude dripped from her every syllable.