His eyes had narrowed. So Georgiana had sought refuge at Candlewick Hall—the one place he had not considered looking. Smart of her—or was it pure luck? He had decided on luck, for there was no way Georgiana could have known, and was about to step forward and accost the fair pair, when they were helped into a waiting carriage by a burly footman.
Balked of his prey, the wisdom of reconnoitring the lie of the land was brought home to him. Bella had married a Lord Winsmere. A powerful man. If the Winsmeres were Georgiana’s friends, he had better be sure of his strategy before he approached her.
He had followed the carriage through the bustling streets and had seen the ladies set down outside the house in Green Street. They had entered, and he had found an alley close by, from which he could keep the door in view. Georgiana had not re-emerged until the evening, when she had left in the carriage with Bella, both gorgeously arrayed in evening gowns. The sight of those gowns had sent a spasm of sheer fury through him. They had swanned off to a ball while he, half perished with cold, was forced to slink off to his miserable lodgings, with no prospect of a decent meal in sight. He had consoled himself with the thought that at least he now knew where his pigeon had come to roost.
But how to best approach the matter of getting his hands on her once more? With his limited resources, joining the social whirl was a near impossibility. His clothes alone would mark him as pecuniarily embarrassed. The cent per centers were too fly to be taken in by a glib tale; they would advance him nothing. Thanks to the restrictions his father’s failings had placed on him, he had no friends among the swells. How to break into the glittering circle?
He had cudgelled his brains for hours. Eventually he had found a young tailor operating on the outskirts of the fashionable districts, one too inexperienced to quibble about his offer of a small down payment with the remainder of the costs to be sent on account. With his most immediate need assuaged, he had turned his mind to gaining an entrée to the balls and parties his cousin frequented.
The Hattringham House masked ball had presented itself, ready-made for his needs. For the cost of a mask and a deal of studied self-confidence, he had been able to enter the ballroom as a guest, to wander slowly through the salons, carefully studying the female forms present. He had not even had to be covert about this enterprise; most of the young bucks were similarly engaged.
As it transpired, he had not recognised her. It was her voice, gaily answering some sally, which had identified her for him.
Now, as he watched her dance for the third time with the handsome dark-haired man who had monopolised her company for the entire evening, he ground his teeth. He stood no chance of competing honourably with the likes of her present cavalier. And, even from the obscurity of the sidelines, he could sense the rapport which existed between the pair. Damn her! She’d escaped him, only to fall victim to some other aspiring scoundrel. He brushed aside the thought that none but he knew her worth.
Seething, muttering imprecations beneath his breath, he watched helplessly as the dashing cavalier waltzed past, his cousin held securely in strong arms, mesmerised by a smile too experienced for any young damsel to resist.
“Soon,” said Charles, entirely to himself. “I’ll have to move soon.” Having seen quite enough of his cousin and her consort to despair of parting them that night, he left Hattringham House, his brain awash with half-formed schemes.
IT WAS THE NEXT afternoon before Georgiana had leisure to thoroughly examine the events of the Hattringham House ball. Viewed in the calm light of day, she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of them. Had he really not recognised her?
Over the weeks, by dint of subtle questioning, she had learnt a great deal more of Bella’s brother. For instance, a quiet afternoon spent in the back parlour the previous week had yielded the tale of the initial incident that had given rise to Lord Alton’s reputation of being dangerous company for young ladies.
“It happened during the Season immediately following Papa’s death. Dominic had missed the beginning of the Season, still tied up with settling the estate.” Bella had laid aside her embroidery and stared in concentration at the opposite wall. “I wasn’t there, of course, but I’ve heard the
tale umpteen times. Apparently Lord Ellsmere—he’s a particular friend of Dominic’s, you know—fell desperately in love with a scheming miss from somewhere up north. I forget her name—something like Kertlake. She and her mama had come to town determined to catch the biggest matrimonial prize.” Bella turned to Georgiana. “Well, you know how eligible Julian Ellsmere is.”
Georgiana had had the grace to look sheepish.
“Well,” her preceptress had continued, “Julian fell very heavily, and no one could make him see what she was really like. Apparently she was an out-and-out schemer, flirting with every man, but carefully checking their assets at the same time. Lots of people tried to dissuade him, but he went ahead and proposed and was accepted. Then Dominic returned to town. He saw through Miss Whatever-her-name-was and decided something had to be done. It was too late for Julian to draw back with honour, so the lady had to be made to withdraw.” Bella had paused, eyeing Georgiana carefully. Georgiana had raised her brows in question. Bella had grimaced.
“You know what men are. And you’ve seen what Dominic’s like. So I don’t suppose you’ll find it hard to believe that he swept the lady off her feet. He’s a bigger catch than Julian. So the lady broke off her engagement with Julian, who by now had his eyes well open. Dominic had managed it so she did it in the expectation of him offering for her, but he never made any formal declaration or anything like that. And, of course, as soon as Julian was publicly free, Dominic just dumped the girl. The trouble was, not everyone was in the know. A lot of gossips just saw Dominic entrapping a beautiful girl and then ruthlessly discarding her. That’s what started it all. And, needless to say, Dominic doesn’t give a damn what people think of him. Naturally, all his friends know the truth.”
At this point, Bella had picked up her embroidery again. Then she had paused, to add matter-of-factly, “Of course, later, when he went around seducing all the bored wives and beautiful widows—the Lady Changleys of the world, you understand—they simply painted his reputation blacker.”
Smothering a choking laugh, Georgiana had bent her head once more over her own embroidery, her thoughts far removed from petit point.
“Mind you,” Bella had added, waving her needle in the air to give her point emphasis, “despite all, he’s never particularly enamoured of them—the women he seduces, I mean.” She had frowned, totally absorbed in her subject and no longer conscious of her audience. “I suspect it’s because it’s all so easy.” She had shrugged. “Just like me, getting bored with the Season—it’s all too easy without some purpose behind it.”
They had fallen silent after that, each busy with their own thoughts.
Now Georgiana sat alone in the back parlour, having seen Bella off on a visit to her old nurse. Her thoughts revolved incessantly, driven by an unnerving juxtaposition of longing and uncertainty. The breathtaking thrill of basking in the warmth of his smouldering blue gaze…All the subtle attentions he had paid her throughout the long night of the masked ball… She’d already lost her heart to Lord Alton. Now he seemed intent on leading her on to more dangerous ground. But had he known it was her he was leading? Surely not. Her mind rebelled at the thought. If he had known, then that would mean…No. He couldn’t be seriously pursuing her. What on earth could he mean by it, if he was? And what on earth was she to do about it?
She puzzled and worried at her questions, but when Johnson knocked and entered the room two hours later she had still not found any answer.
“There’s a gentleman to see you, miss. A Mr Charles Hartley.”
The butler’s words effectively banished Georgiana’s dreams. Charles? Here? How on earth had he traced her? And why?
The soft clearing of Johnson’s throat recalled her scattered wits. She had enough unanswerable questions without Charles adding to the score. And, secure and safe in Winsmere House, she had no reason to fear her cousin. Johnson, she felt sure, would hover protectively near the door. “My cousin?” It was hard to believe.
Johnson bowed. “The gentleman did mention the connection, miss.”
From the butler’s stiff tone, Georgiana surmised her cousin had failed to find favour in his shrewd eyes. The observation gave her confidence. “I’ll see him in here.”
“Very good, miss.” Johnson made for the door, but paused with his hand on the knob. “I’ll be just outside the door, miss, in case you should need anything.”
Georgiana smiled her gratitude as Johnson withdrew.