by Josie Bonham
Nat set him back on his feet. “We are if we can get everything done at home that we need to in time.”
Georgie tried not to smile as she watched the emotions on Peter’s face before he capitulated.
“I’ll help you then. When can we go to London?”
“Once Twelfth Night is over, we’ll go as soon as the roads are clear. Come on. Let’s leave your uncle in peace.”
The Overtons had no sooner disappeared when Cecilia came out of the drawing room. She walked across to them and Max stood up.
“Oh, Uncle Max. You’re the best of uncles. I do hope Hargreaves House can be ready in time.” She dropped down next to Georgie. “It’ll be famous if I can share my debut with you, Georgie. I’ll feel so much happier with two of us sharing the attention.”
Georgie’s heart lurched. It seemed Max had discussed his plans with everyone except her. She forced a smile for Cecilia’s sake and glanced up at a still standing Max. “Am I correct in thinking that Hargreaves House has a magnificent ballroom?”
Max nodded. “Yes, it does. I hope you like the idea. I need to go and speak to Wakeley, if you’ll excuse me?”
She inclined her head. “Of course.”
Max gave her a curt bow and was gone. Where was the happy bridegroom who had consulted her on everything? Mrs Powell’s attitude to her seemed to have unsettled him further. Or was there another reason for his distancing himself? She forced her attention to the happily chattering Cecilia.
Chapter Seventeen
Max’s head was beginning to ache. The notion that Georgie was afraid of Mrs Powell in some way kept intruding on his thoughts. Did the woman have a hold over her? If she did it could only mean one thing. How would he bear it if Georgie proved to have schemed to trap him? He could try questioning Mrs Powell but he didn’t want her guessing he intended to move her on. Besides, if Georgie had lied to him he wanted to hear it from her own lips. At least she had the excuse of being in danger from her cousin. Could he even be sure of that though?
The library was unoccupied when he reached it. He closed the door and strode over to the window. He had been so hopeful that he had found love. It would be too cruel if Georgie turned out to be as heartless as Lavinia. The snow-clad view failed to hold his attention. He poured himself a brandy and sat down in an armchair in front of the fire. It might be melting outside but it didn’t feel much warmer. Strange how he could think about mundane matters like that when his world was falling down around him. He could only hope they would be able to forge a reasonable relationship whatever the truth of it.
He sipped his brandy and savoured its heat as it slipped down. A small part of him refused to believe that Georgie was the same as all the other women who had tried to trick their way into marriage. She hadn’t even accepted him straight away, although that could have been a ruse to deflect suspicion. She was by far the most intelligent of the candidates for his hand, the legitimate ones provided by his sisters included. As unlikely as it seemed could she have engineered that meeting?
He put his drink down and rested his chin in his hands with his elbows on his knees. He had drunk so much the day before he must still have been in his cups when he carried her home. What had possessed him to think that marrying Georgie on impulse like that would give him the best chance of happiness? She was lovely and it was no surprise that he desired her. What he hadn’t bargained for was falling in love with her so quickly. He had to try and guard what was left of his heart until he could find out the truth about their meeting.
The door opened to admit Wakeley. “Sally has been telling me about your plan to open up Hargreaves House and hold a joint ball. Mighty generous of you. It applies in reverse if it can’t be done in time.”
“Thank you. I’m confident Mrs Mills will have the house in reasonable shape. It should be possible.” He waved a hand towards the decanters on a side table. “Will you join me in a drink?”
Wakeley beamed at him. “Don’t mind if I do.” He poured out a brandy and sat opposite to Max. “Cecilia has taken to Georgie. It’s put some backbone into her. I can’t believe how upset she got over that worthless lump.”
Max’s stomach contracted at a memory of the mocking face of Lavinia when he caught her in bed with one of his rivals. “I can. It’s a terrible thing to find out someone you thought loved you is playing you for a fool. I’m not sure which is worse, the lost love or the feeling of being cheated.”
A dull flush coloured Wakeley’s cheeks. “Ah, of course, I had forgotten about that episode with Lavinia Fellowes.”
Max gave a harsh laugh. “I don’t suppose the Ton has. If you remember I ignored all the rules of gentlemanly conduct and broke off my engagement. I would understand if you’d rather not have your daughter linked with me in any way.”
“I’m proud to have you as a brother-in-law, Hargreaves. I can’t speak for the ladies but most of the men I know were glad you did. I’m sorry, but Miss Fellowes was a minx and a nasty one at that. I’m so glad you’ve found Georgie.”
Max nodded to hide his expression. “We need to be prepared to face down more than one scandal.”
“Yours is old news. There might have been a few whisperings but, with your prompt actions, I don’t think Cecilia’s story ever got out. I was worried she might struggle in London but with Georgie to support her I think all will be well.”
“There is also the problem of our rather hasty marriage which might cause talk.” Max looked away and rubbed at his chin.
“I shouldn’t worry about that. Sally and Eliza have had their heads together.” Wakeley stretched his legs out and smiled. “They’re confident your marriage can be passed off as a longstanding arrangement, delayed because Georgie was in mourning. Don’t forget Sally knew Mrs Weston quite well at one time from their work with local charities.”
“I hope you’re right but it may not be that easy.”
Wakeley gripped his shoulder. “You’re worrying too much. Hardly surprising after the humiliation Lavinia caused you.”
“Perhaps.” Max got up and fetched another drink. “Would Cecilia be better to wait until next year when Augusta’s eldest girl will be ready to join her.”
“Sally thinks it would be worse if Cecilia has too much time to dwell on her lucky escape. And Cathlay isn’t keen on girls coming out into society too young. It might be two years before they present Fiona.” Wakeley beamed at him. “Cecilia’s looking forward to her season now she has Georgie to share it with. Such a warm young lady.”
Max cursed inwardly. He couldn’t say more without exposing his fears about Georgie.
“I intend to set off for London straight after Twelfth Night. The sooner we start on Hargreaves House the better. I’ll have a message sent to Augusta when the roads are passable. She will know how to face down any scandals.”
“Sally had the same thought. You’ll be in hot water with Augusta for not waiting for her to attend the wedding.”
Max nodded. “Don’t I know it.”
If he could bear it, he would be best to tell Augusta the whole. Including his fears about Georgie. Perhaps he was seeing problems where there were none, but Mrs Powell’s attitude towards Georgie was strange.
***
Max went off to play billiards with Nat and Wakeley after dinner. Georgie chattered with the ladies in the drawing room before pleading fatigue. The strain of trying not to appear as if she was waiting for Max to return had brought on a repeat of her headache. When she reached her room an excited Martha, asking questions about London, made her nerves jangle even more. It was a relief when she was finally alone.
She climbed into bed and waited for Max to appear. Her candle burned low and still she waited. She reached over and snuffed it out completely. The large bed felt so empty without Max lying beside her. She took herself to task. There would be plenty of time for her and Max to be together when their guests had left. He was being a good host. It was a long time before she fell asleep.
She didn’t see Max the fol
lowing day until they waved off the Fordhams midway through the morning. He offered her his arm but seemed preoccupied. They ate an early luncheon with the Overtons before they too left for home. Georgie had only known Eliza for a few days but she felt bereft without her support. They made their way back up the steps to the front door. Barton greeted them.
“A messenger has arrived, my lord. I believe he’s from your secretary.” Barton picked up a letter from a table inside the door and handed it to Max.
Max studied the envelope. “Looking at this writing I’m sure you’re correct Barton. Excellent.”
He led her into the drawing room but didn’t seem inclined to talk. Georgie sat down and watched as he opened the letter.
“Now I know why I pay my secretary a handsome wage. Have I mentioned Charles Breakwell to you before?”
Georgie nodded. “Yes, I’m sure you have.”
“He’s staying with his uncle in Porchester and is ready to come back whenever I have need of him.” Max laughed. “Since that’s half way to London I’ll have him bespeak rooms in Porchester for us on the seventh of January. I’ll go and write a note for the messenger to take back with him.”
Georgie watched his retreating back. He seemed a lot more cheerful now he was organising their removal to London. He had seemed so pleased with her at first. Was that merely a show for his relatives? What was she going to do with herself? She could look for a book in the library but Max was probably in there writing his letter. She didn’t want to pester him. If she was on better terms with Mrs Powell, she could busy herself with household matters. Eliza had said to deal directly with the cook on menus.
She fought down her reluctance and jumped to her feet. It was time she got to know the cook better. She remembered the way down to the housekeeper’s room. Her breathing quickened when she reached it. Pinning a smile on her face, she knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
Georgie gulped in a big breath and pushed open the door. “I would like to consult with Cook if you would be so good as to direct me to her.”
Mrs Powell was sitting at her desk. She didn’t stand up and Georgie felt a spurt of anger. She resisted an impulse to turn tail and run. “The cook if you please.”
Georgie locked gazes with Mrs Powell and waited. This was a battle she was determined to win. Mrs Powell lowered her eyes and pulled herself to her feet.
“My joints are aching today,” she said, head bowed. “I’ll take you to her myself.”
She waved Georgie out into the corridor. “The kitchens are through the second door along, my lady.”
Georgie sailed through the door indicated, head held high. The delicious smell of a joint of beef roasting on a spit over a modern looking range was the first thing she noticed. It was a bigger kitchen than she was used to, with three scrubbed pine tables in the centre. An impressive array of dried herbs hanging along one wall caught her eye as she walked in. The place was a hive of activity, with people scurrying here and there, but Cook was obvious from her uniform. She wiped floury hands on her apron and bobbed a curtsey. The other staff shot wary looks at Mrs Powell and retreated to the farthest corners of the cavernous kitchen.
Georgie blessed her excellent memory for names and faces, honed helping her Aunt and Uncle with their parishioners. “Mrs James is it not?”
Mrs James bobbed another curtsey. “Bless you, my lady. Fancy you remembering my name.”
She relaxed a little. Cook seemed disposed to be friendly. She turned to dismiss Mrs Powell. Her smile nearly wavered as she glimpsed the glare covering Mrs’s Powell’s face. It was fleeting but so venomous Martha’s words ran through her brain. ‘She’s no friend of yours.’
“Thank you, Mrs Powell.”
Mrs Powell sketched a curtsey and stumped out. Georgie watched her leave. She needed a moment to compose herself. Mrs James regarded her with a rather wary expression. Her hands fluttered at her side. Strange that she should be so nervous. Perhaps Mrs Powell had that effect on her.
“I have a lot to thank you for, Mrs James.”
She went bright red and stared at Georgie. Was Barton the only normal one amongst the upper servants?
Georgie tried again. “Your cooking is excellent. Our wedding breakfast and then the Christmas dinner were triumphs. I’m afraid we will need to prevail on you and your staff for the Twelfth Night Dinner as well.”
Mrs James’s arms stilled and her facial expression became more relaxed. “It’s no bother, my lady. We love a challenge. I’ll put together a suggested menu for you to consider.”
“I would like to see it but I will rely on you. I don’t have much experience of this sort of event.”
Mrs James smiled at her. “I’m always open to suggestions. Now I understand dinner is only for two this evening. Do you have any favourite dishes you’d like me to prepare?”
Georgie fell into a conversation about food. She was used to ordering menus for small groups. Mrs James was as amenable as Mrs Powell was surly. She felt so comfortable she could have stopped in the kitchen all afternoon. Eventually she called a halt and slipped back up the stairs. She felt like a criminal in what was now her own house and couldn’t resist glancing behind her to see if Mrs Powell was about.
She caught a glimpse of a black gown disappearing around the corner below her. It looked like the woman had been spying on her. What had Max been thinking of employing someone like that in the first place? She shook her head to try and dispel images of Max that jostled for space in her mind. The object of her thoughts came into view.
“Ah there you are. How did you find Mrs Powell today?”
“I only saw her briefly. I went to speak to Cook.”
Max gave her a hard look but she couldn’t face talking about Mrs Powell and her rudeness.
“I see. I’ve sent the letter to Charles together with another note for Augusta. I’ve asked him to arrange a courier to deliver it to Augusta. I can’t say I’m looking forward to the dressing down she’ll give me.”
Georgie studied his face. “Oh dear, will she be very angry?”
“She’ll calm down eventually and I have a feeling we’ll need her diplomatic skills.”
Georgie hung her head. That was all she needed, an irascible sister-in-law to add to a belligerent housekeeper. Fatigue hit her. She had always longed for adventure and yet now she had it she longed for a quiet life.
“Some people are never satisfied.” She looked up to find Max staring at her.
“What was that you said?”
Oh heavens, she must have spoken her thoughts aloud. “Nothing, Max. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you.” She swayed slightly and tears formed in her eyes.
“I wish my aunt was still alive.”
Tears threatened in earnest and she ran past Max and up the stairs. When she reached the privacy of her rooms she locked the external door and the one to Max’s suite. She threw herself on the bed, stopping only to kick off her shoes. He seemed so cross. Their marriage was never going to work. Sobs racked her body until she slumped into an exhausted sleep.
***
Jepson wasn’t waiting for him when Max entered his bedroom. He reached for the bell but dropped his hand. He could bear it no longer. If Georgie was being blackmailed by Mrs Powell for her part in a plot to ensnare him, he needed to know. He marched to the connecting door and tried to open it. What the devil. He tried it again and shook it until it rattled but the solid oak door and brass fittings wouldn’t budge. Georgie must have locked it on him. He strode about the room, running a hand through his hair until it stood on end.
Some people are never satisfied. Had he heard her correctly? If so, it could only mean one thing. Hell and damnation. It felt like a tight fist gripped his chest. Why had he been fool enough to think he might find love at last? Georgie had seemed upset when she came up. If she had locked her door it was unlikely that he would get anything out of her. No, he would have to accept the situation and make the best of the marriage that he could. He
had been half way to falling in love with the chit. At least now he could spare himself that.
He moved over to the window. The last of the day was disintegrating into what looked like being a stormy night. The thaw had brought rain with it in abundance. If it stayed this mild there should be nothing to stop them travelling to London straight after Twelfth Night. He slapped a hand down onto the window sill so hard that it stung. He gave it a shake and stared at the scudding clouds rushing to cover up the last of the evening light. It was as if they mocked him for ever believing Georgie had lit up his life with joy.
What nonsense was this? He shook his head in an effort to dispel such fanciful thoughts. It was a pity he had promised Sally and Eliza a party. He would have been glad to set off for London at first light. At least there he would have plenty of distractions to take his mind off his ills. The best he could do was to send another message to Charles to remind him to have everything organised for travel on the seventh of the month. He had no idea how he was going to face his bride in the meantime.
Jepson appeared quickly once he rang the bell. Max stayed in the shadows so he wouldn’t see his face clearly.
“I have a fancy for a hot bath, Jepson. I believe there is plenty of time before dinner.”
“Very good, my lord. I’ll have one brought up to you straight away.”
Max lounged on a chair at the side of the room and watched Jepson put his head around the door. Footsteps receded along the landing but Jepson returned with a footman. He must have had two stationed there.
“It will be with you shortly.” Jepson directed the footman to stoke up the fire and then go and help carry up hot water.
Max sighed. He heard the sounds of Jepson moving around in his dressing room selecting clothes. Life went on whatever setbacks it threw at you. He felt worse than he had that night he’d discovered Lavinia in bed with another man. Lavinia had been a dream which deep down he’d realised wasn’t real.
Dammit, he had been glad he’d caught them as it gave him the excuse he’d needed to end the engagement. Any lingering doubts were put to the rightabout when Lavinia hadn’t even had the decency to give her name to the withdrawal. The scandal had been huge but it had been worth it to avoid her scheming talons. Georgie had seemed a different sort of woman altogether, kind and unassuming. Perhaps she was. Her situation had been desperate and he had to hope she’d decided to trap him only after recognising him at the inn.
