Suzanne Robinson (14 page)

“Oh, do be quiet, Prudence,” Lady Augusta said. “Such effusiveness isn’t the ton.”

Lady Lavinia said, “For once I agree with you, Augusta. Threshfield, your family has been waiting for you to die for a decade and you haven’t cared. What has changed?”

“What’s changed is Georgiana,” the earl replied.

Nick sat up straight and put a forearm on the table while he fixed his gaze on the earl’s watery eyes. Threshfield paused to heighten the expectancy in his audience and to survey them. He wore a look of evil anticipation and amusement.

“What has changed is that my dear fiancée has made me young again. It has come as a miracle, a sign from Providence. In short, my dear ones, Georgiana is to bear my child.”

Chaos broke out. Nick jerked his head to the right to stare at Georgiana. At first she didn’t move. Then her eyes blinked once before her face settled into a flat, pale mask.

Prudence fanned her face with her closed parasol. “I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it!”

Lady Lavinia and Evelyn began to quarrel. Augusta screeched about a half-French baby spy while Ludwig tried to calm her. Threshfield stood in the middle of it all, grinning.

Without warning Nick bashed his fist against the table. The whole group shut up and stared at him.

In the silence he said, “He’s lying.”

“Of course,” said Lady Lavinia.

“Am I?” Threshfield chortled. “What do you say, Evelyn? Soon there will be an heir between you and the tide.”

Evelyn was in the midst of an attempt to shred the tablecloth. “You’ve gone too far.”

Nick paid no heed to the renewed arguments that erupted among the family. Was he the only one who had noticed that Georgiana hadn’t agreed with him when he’d said the earl was lying? She was stunned, dazed. That was it. Where was she going?

Georgiana rose unnoticed by the family, turned her back on the shrill altercations that were rapidly escalating, and left the colonnade. Nick followed her out to the quay and caught her arm as she was about to step into a rowboat. She turned her blank mask on him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what, Mr. Ross?”

“Nick. I’m sorry you had to be subjected to that inexcusable insult. But, after all, you put yourself in a position to be insulted by that old bag of dust and meanness.”

“Pray excuse me, Mr. Ross.” She moved to detach his hand from her arm, but he tightened his grip.

“You aren’t furious?”

“That isn’t an accurate description of my feelings.”

His eyes traveled over her face again, noting her pallor and the slight trembling of her mouth. “You haven’t said anything. Not a scream, not a cry, not a protest. And you’re being obscure.”

“As I have said many times before, Mr. Ross. I do not wish to discuss private matters with you. Please excuse me.”

She pulled free and tossed her parasol into the boat. Nick caught her around the waist as she attempted to step down into the craft and turned her to face him. Now she looked angry.

“Mr. Ross, you’re too familiar.”

Nick took a step that brought him close to her. “I ain’t the one who asked to be kissed in the woods just now. I ain’t the one wot almost slipped me hands inside someone’s pants.” He snatched her to him and glared into her startled face. “You go back and tell them it’s a lie and give that bastard his notice.”

At last she was blushing. Vindicated, Nick let her go, and she straightened her bodice.

“I shall do nothing of the sort,” she said.

“And just why not?”

“This conversation is distasteful to me, Mr. Ross. I have no intention of continuing it or of indulging in the rash conduct you suggest.”

“Rash? Why would it be rash to call the bastard a liar … unless—” He shook his head and said softly, “Bloody hell.”

“Your language, sir.” Georgiana turned her back
to him, but he grabbed her arm and whirled her around again.

“Is this all a part of your scheme?”

“What are you talking about?”

“A surety against further interference from me or Jocelin or your parents? Strike me blind, my lady. You had me fooled right smart.”

He waited for her to deny it. Instead, she let the silence between them deepen until it might as well have been a bottomless cavern. He’d faced the traps and gaol and not been as afraid as he was when he finally realized she had no intention of answering him or making any denial.

“All right, Your High-and-mighty Royal Highness, if you won’t give me an answer, I’ll get it for myself. Tonight.”

“I don’t understand you, sir.”

“It’s real simple. I’m calling your bluff, lady. And there’s only one way to do that.”

He watched her brow furrow as she deciphered the meaning of his words. Then she gasped.

“You crude wretch!”

“Look, Your Highness. This morning you didn’t know how to kiss. This afternoon you’re increasing. Now, I know the two don’t have to go together, but usually only whores do it without the kissing.”

Now her face was flaming, and she hissed at him, “Stay away from me, sir. I shall lock my doors, so stay away, or I’ll shoot you.”

“You’re not frightening me, my lady,” he said in a low voice. “Shall I come wooing you with poetry like a knight to a princess? ‘O! a kiss / Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!’ ”

She shoved him with both hands and leaped into
the boat. Nick let her go. Steadying herself as she sat down, Georgiana grabbed the oars and shoved away from the steps that ascended from the water to the quay. Nick walked down the steps and stopped the boat with his booted foot.

“Why did you do it, love?”

“Go to hell, Mr. Ross.”

Having escaped Nicholas Ross and gained her bedroom, Georgiana yanked the ribbons of her bonnet, tore it from her head, and threw it onto a Sheridan chair.

“Rebecca, Re—bee—ca!” She jerked each finger of her gloves. They sailed after the bonnet as she filled her lungs for another shout.

“Here, my lady.” Rebecca scurried into the room. “I was looking for the mantle that goes with your gray traveling costume.”

The outer door to the sitting room banged, and Aunt Livy marched into the room. “Run along, Rebecca. I’ll help your mistress change.”

Georgiana wrestled with the numerous buttons at the back of her bodice until the maid had gone. Then she flopped down onto the bed.

“Drat, drat, drat, drat, and drat that odious Threshfield!”

Livy lay down her parasol and folded her arms over her chest. “And just why didn’t you say that
when the old fool started spouting that drivel at the pavilion?”

“Oh, Aunt Livy, the disgrace.” Georgiana threw her skirt over her head and began to groan.

“That’s your solution? You’re going to run around with your skirt over your head?”

Georgiana pulled her skirt down and peered over its folds to whisper. “When I heard him, I was too stunned to respond. If I’d been standing, my knees would have given way.”

“Listen, my chick, Threshfield has gone too far this time.”

“I know. He thinks he’s found another goad, like threatening Ludwig with leaving the Egyptian collection to me.”

“The arse delights in keeping them off balance and dancing attendance on him,” Livy said. “I told him he has forty-eight hours to retract this slander or I’ll take a buggy whip to him. Come here and let me help you with those buttons.”

Georgiana turned her back so that Livy could unfasten the dozens of buttons. “I was too embarrassed and too furious to speak. If I had, I would either have howled or burst into tears. It was all I could manage to stand up and walk to the boats, and then Mr. Ross followed me. He said, he said—oh—I won’t repeat what he said. He’s far worse than the earl.”

“You should go down to dinner this evening and denounce Threshfield. Force him to retract his claim.”

Stripping the bodice from her arms, Georgiana gave a sharp jerk to her head. “I have no intention of giving weight to this absurd lie by even recognizing what has taken place.”

Livy pulled yards of skirt over Georgiana’s head.

“There’s no use taking a dignified stance. It will be lost on the family. Prudence will spread the lie across the county if we don’t do something. And Evelyn is the biggest gossip in England. He’ll go to his club and spew venom. Then all his cronies will flap their tongues. You’ll be ruined. Raise your arms and I’ll throw this skirt over your head.” Livy helped her struggle through the mountain of polished gray fabric.

“Threshfield will see to it that neither of them say a word,” Georgiana said as she slipped her arms through the bodice of her traveling dress. She didn’t mention that her greatest humiliation had been facing Nick and having him succumb to suspicion of her virtue before her eyes. She pressed her lips together, then noticed Aunt Livy staring at her.

“What did the boy say to you?”

“Mr. Ross is a foul wretch.”

“He didn’t believe Threshfield. He’s a right clever lad, that boy.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Aunt Livy. It’s too painful.”

“I warn you, child. If you don’t do something, Mr. Ross will. You didn’t see the look he gave Threshfield after you left. Prudence and I did, and she nearly swooned.”

“Are you still going house hunting with me?”

Livy gave her a skeptical look.

“I need your opinion about a house that would be suitable for about thirty children to begin with. We’ll be late getting to the solicitor’s.” Georgiana picked up a pearl-gray bonnet with burgundy ribbons.

“You don’t have to hunt for property today. Big houses like you want don’t sell quickly.”

“I have to get away,” Georgiana said, her voice trembling. “Please hurry and change, Aunt Livy. I need your advice on choosing a home suitable for lots of children, and I want to stay away a good while, perhaps have dinner in town. I need your company.”

Livy hugged her, which evoked the tears Georgiana had been withholding. She lay her head on Livy’s shoulder and sobbed. It was a long time before she was able to lift her head and face leaving her room.

Late that evening she returned, having spent the afternoon touring various houses in the neighborhood. The task was a distraction from her embarrassment and from her apprehension regarding Nick. He’d threatened to invade her bedchamber, but the more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that he would go through with the threat.

Gentlemen simply did not force their way into lady’s chambers. They came stealthily by invitation. Such visits were taken for granted among house parties. That’s why guests’ names were often posted on bedroom doors. Georgiana remembered the year she came out at the age of eighteen. Her mother hadn’t supplied the engraved name cards for the doors of the duke’s guests, and an errant husband had ended up sneaking into his own wife’s bed. The lady promptly kicked him out and set her shoes outside her door so that her lover wouldn’t make the same mistake.

The house was quiet and dark as Rebecca helped Georgiana undress. As soon as her gown was off, Georgiana sent the maid to bed. She washed and donned a lawn-and-lace nightgown and embroidered robe. As she crossed the dressing room, Georgiana paused, then turned and went to the door. The key
was in the lock. She turned it and felt much easier upon hearing the click of the lock.

Discarding her robe, she got into bed and lay staring at the light visible through the doorway between her bedroom and the sitting room. Moonbeams filtered through the long windows of the balcony. She turned onto her side and closed her eyes. Minutes passed, and she was wide-awake. She turned onto her other side. Then she lay on her back. Sighing, she punched her pillow and turned onto her stomach. She squeezed her eyes closed. She recited poetry; nothing worked. Finally she sat up, fished around in the dark for her robe, and pulled it on and her slippers as well.

In her tossing and turning her hair had come loose from its braid and tumbled over her shoulders. She thrust it away from her face and went to the glass doors that opened onto the balcony. Outside there was a chaise longue and a chair facing each other. She walked between them to stand before the wrought-iron railing and stare at the moonlight reflected in the small lake in the distance.

What had she come to that she was more insulted by the fact that Nick might believe ill of her than by Threshfield’s abominable lie? She was feeling most unlike herself. She had never been kissed the way Nick had kissed her, and—now that she reflected upon it—the experience had cast her into some kind of stupor or fugue. Throughout luncheon she’d been unable to keep her eyes from him. Yet the moment he looked back at her, she turned scarlet and had to turn her gaze before she became so flustered that she giggled.

How unlike her. And how could he kiss her like that and a few hours later accuse her of—of unspeakable
conduct? She hated him. The wretched vermin. Wretched, wretched vermin. The insults did little to relieve her anger, so she kicked the iron balustrade.

She forgot she wasn’t wearing boots. Giving a little yelp, she hopped on one foot, then limped to the chair and rubbed her foot. She was still rubbing it when she heard a tiny sound almost beyond hearing. Her head came up, and she glanced out at the expanse of carefully kept lawn. Nothing.