So, with gentle patience, he waited until she had herself in hand once more and could cope with his, “And what might your name be, fair one?”
Georgiana blinked. Surely he recognised her? But then, she reflected, she wasn’t sure the others had either. Maybe it wasn’t that obvious. She thought quickly, then replied, “I really don’t think the purpose of her ladyship’s entertainment would be furthered if I answered that question, my lord.”
Inwardly, Dominic grinned, but outwardly he was all dejection. “But what, then, should I call you, sweetheart?”
It was a struggle to keep her tone even. “‘Sweetheart’ will do very nicely, my lord.”
Great heavens! Had she really said that? Georgiana glanced up from under her long lashes and blushed when she encountered her partner’s blue gaze. But he merely smiled, slowly, and said, “Sweetheart it is, then, my dear.”
His deep voice sent tingling shivers down her spine. What on earth was she doing? What on earth was he doing?
The music ceased, and Georgiana turned towards the other end of the ballroom, where she had left Bella. Her partner detained her by the simple expedient of tightening the arm that still lay about her waist. “Oh, no, sweetheart,” he said on a soft laugh. “Hasn’t anyone told you?” At her enquiring look, he explained, “One of the main—if not the primary—purposes of a balle masquée is to permit those who wish to…further their acquaintance to do so without attracting the notice of the tattle-mongers.” His voice had dropped to a mesmerising tone. His breath wafted the curls about her ear as he bent closer to add, “And I find I very definitely want to further my acquaintance with you.”
Georgiana gasped. There was no doubting the subtle invitation couched in those otherwise innocuous words. Involuntarily, her eyes sought his in the darkened recesses of his mask. The glow she saw in the blue depths merely served to tighten the iron band that had clamped around her chest, threating to suspend her breathing. “My lord!”
Despite her panic, her words came out in a seductive whisper, quite contrary to her intention. It was as if something stronger than her will was impelling her to accept the challenge she saw in his eyes.
He laughed, softly, his eyes on hers, and Georgiana’s bones felt weak. Then he put the challenge into words. “Surely, sweetheart, you’re not afraid of what you might learn?”
His head was bent close to hers, his large body overwhelmingly near. His breath felt warm against her cheek; his hands came up to surreptitiously stroke her arms where they were bare above her elbow-length gloves. Georgiana could not repress the shiver of pure delight that coursed through her at his touch.
What on earth was he doing? Dominic mentally sat at a distance and marvelled at himself. He knew—none better—that this was no way to behave towards a gently reared young lady. To experienced courtesans, to the likes of Elaine Changley, his attentions would be perfectly in order. But delicate virgins were apt to flee for cover, to faint or screech if treated to such subtle but strong tactics. Certainly, they wouldn’t know how to respond to them. The trouble was, Georgiana Hartley’s responses had more in common with those of a courtesan than of the virgin he knew her to be. Fascinated, he waited for her reaction.
Georgiana had no thought of fleeing, fainting or screeching. Her conscious mind was entirely taken up with a fight against her desire to learn what it was his lordship proposed to teach her. Desire won, hands down. She’d deal with reality later.
“Afraid?” she echoed, buying time. “Hardly that. But I do wonder at the wisdom of being seen too much together. Surely our friends, if no one else, will recognise us and think it odd?”
Dominic understood the hidden meaning in her words, but chose to ignore it. He was in no hurry to confirm or deny his recognition of her. “In this mêlée? I doubt any of our friends can even see us. Can you see any of your party?”
He had already seen Bella and Arthur move into one of the adjoining salons, so was not surprised when, after a quick survey of the room, Georgiana shook her head. “I can’t see anyone I know.”
Smiling, Dominic tucked her hand into his arm. “You see? A balle masquée is a time to have fun. So come and enjoy yourself with me.” As he steered her in the direction of the terrace, he added for her ears only, “I assure you I have every intention of enjoying myself with you.”
To Georgiana’s delight, the evening proved to be one of unalloyed pleasure. Initially, she was wary, convinced Lord Alton had not recognised her, and on tenterhooks lest he, not knowing who she was, overstepped the line. Instead, while he certainly drifted very close to the invisible limit of acceptable conduct, he never once gave her cause to rue her deception. For deception it certainly was. What on earth would he think if he ever learnt it was his sister’s little protégée on whom he was lavishing his attentions?
To be the object of his attentions was a most sinful pleasure. Georgiana sparkled, animated as she had not been since her father’s death. For one blissful evening she forgot her situation, forgot her cousin, forgot everything beyond the dancing lights in a pair of cerulean blue eyes. They walked through the salons and he pointed out numerous well known identities hidden behind their masks, elaborating on their idiosyncrasies, regaling her with gossip and the latest on dits, making her laugh, making her blush. When she confessed to hunger, they found the supper-room and helped themselves to heaps of lobster patties. She had her first taste of champagne, and giggled as it fizzled down her throat. They danced again, waltzing with effortless grace. Georgiana felt as if she were floating, held to earth by the strong clasp of his arm about her waist, drawn to heaven by the warmth in his eyes. Later they strolled on the terrace. She stood at the balustrade and he stood behind her, pointing out the features of the famous topiary gardens, thrown into silvered relief by the moonlight. His breath wafted the curls by her ear; his lips gently grazed her temple. Gently, so gently that she had no strength to resist, his hands lifted to her bare shoulders in a practised caress, skimming down over her bare arms. Ripples of delight shivered through her. He drew her around to face him, lifting one gloved hand and raising it to his lips.
“The evening is gone, sweetheart.” His eyes lingered on hers, then dropped to her lips. For one instant, Georgiana wondered if he would kiss her. She hovered, poised on the brink of returning such an embrace, and felt oddly deflated when, in a voice curiously devoid of emotion, he remarked, “Come. Let me take you to find your party.”
It was some minutes before Georgiana spied Arthur, Bella by his side, just inside the door to the main salon. She turned to the gentleman beside her, only to find he had disappeared, melting into the still considerable crowd. Suppressing a smile at his tactics, Georgiana went forward to Bella’s side.
“Good heavens, Georgie! I was starting to wonder if you’d been spirited away.” Bella looked closely at Georgiana, then asked, “Where have you been?”
“Oh, just here and there,” replied Georgiana, smiling beatifically. She couldn’t help her smile, even though it was making Bella suspicious. Still, with Arthur present, she doubted her friend would seek to interrogate her tonight. And she would handle tomorrow’s queries when they came.
Ten minutes later, the Winsmere carriage rolled out along the road back to London.
Dominic Ridgeley watched it go. Pulling on his gloves, he nodded to a waiting footman, who promptly departed to summon the Viscount’s carriage. Once comfortably ensconced in soft leather, the excellent springs ironing out the inevitable bumps and jolts, Dominic allowed his mind to coolly assess his involvement with Georgiana Hartley. He placed due emphasis on the “cool” there had been more than one moment during the evening just past when, for all his experience, he had felt anything but cool. She was an enigma, his golden angel, an innocent who responded with delicious abandon to every practised caress he bestowed on her, who promised to respond with even greater passion to those caresses he had yet to expose her to. A golden angel who had already captured his hardened rake’s heart, but, unless he mistook t
he matter, had yet to realise that fact. A fascinating proposition.
He treated the darkness to a smile of pure delight. Who would ever have believed it?
As the miles fell beneath his horses’ hoofs, he relived the evening in his mind. She had accepted at face value his intimation that he hadn’t recognised her. Would she still believe that tomorrow? And, if she did, what would she then make of his attentions to an unknown lady? Dominic grimaced. He would have to take the earliest opportunity to disabuse her mind of the idea he had not known who she was. Silly child. He would have known her instantly even if she had worn a full domino. Still, she did not have the experience to know she affected him as much as he affected her. More, if anything. The memory of how hard he had had to fight to refrain from kissing her on the terrace made him groan.
No more anonymous wooing. From now on, he resolved, he would openly court her. Doubtless, eyebrows would be raised. Too bad. His friends were sure to have recognised him tonight anyway. Julian Ellsmere certainly had. And Julian had known which lady he had spent the evening with. Thank heavens she had already refused Julian. The last thing he needed was to have a resurgence of the old story. God knew why the gossip-mongers had never realised that Julian himself bore him no ill will over the affair of Miss Amelia Kerslake. His black brows rose cynically. Truth, of course, was never of great interest to the gossips.
With a deep sigh, Dominic leant back against the squabs and shut his eyes. Without the slightest difficulty, he conjured up the vision of a pair of big hazel eyes, so brilliant that they seemed to flash with gold fire. His doubts were gone. All considerations of age and station had long since fallen away, discarded as irrelevant in the face of his desire. He wanted Georgiana Hartley. And he intended to have her.
CHAPTER SIX
THE HATTRINGHAM HOUSE masked ball proved a revelation to others as well. While Georgiana waltzed and laughed on the arm of her cavalier, faded blue eyes, pale and washed out, watched her from the anonymity of the side of the room. Under his breath, Charles Hartley cursed. It didn’t look promising.
Two weeks he had spent, searching the countryside for his little cousin. Finally he had been forced to conclude that the minx had somehow found her way to London. He had closed up the Place—had been forced to do so. Dismissing the Pringates had been an ugly affair, from which he was thankful to have escaped with a whole skin. But paying them off had severely depleted his reserves. He had hastened to town, reduced to finding lodgings in a mean and dingy street beyond the fashionable areas. Once installed, he had suddenly found himself at point non plus. Where would Georgie have gone?
That question had worried him until he was nearly crazed. Luckily, the recollection that her servants had disappeared with her surfaced to lead him from the brink of despair. From what he had seen of them, they would never have countenanced Georgiana doing anything that would bring her into danger. Or ill repute. Hence, they must have found lodgings in an acceptable quarter.
Days of trudging the streets had followed, calling surreptitiously at the fashionable hotels, hours of drinking in the taverns favoured by the servants of the gentry. Gradually he had been forced to consider the more tonnish areas. Finally, his luck had turned. He had seen her in Bond Street.
She had been dressed in the height of fashion, a parasol shading her delicate features, and he had almost missed her. The effect her appearance had had on him, leaving him gaping, had, by sheer luck, saved him from prematurely revealing his presence.
Before he had gathered his wits, she was joined by another female, likewise fashionably elegant. A nagging sense of the familiar had finally crystallised. Little Bella Ridgeley! He had barely made her out, rigged up to the nines as she was, but she was still the little girl he had teased so unmercifully whenever her big brother had not been around.
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.”
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