Lord Ellsmere waved one languid hand. “Oh, think nothing of it. As I recall, I owe you one.” He smiled, then sobered to ask, “You’ll go after her?”
“Most assuredly. The silly chit should have known better. I’d go bail that’s her cousin she’s with. And between Charles Hartley and a viper there’s not much difference.”
The porter returned, and Dominic pulled on his gloves. As he took his cane from the man, Lord Ellsmere, frowning, added, “One other thing. Might be significant. This tow-headed chap… Saw him leaving Hattringham House t’other night.”
The chill in Dominic’s eyes was pronounced. “You’re sure?”
Julian Ellsmere nodded. “Quite certain.” After a moment he asked, “Need any help?”
At that, Dominic smiled in a way that made Julian Ellsmere feel almost sorry for Charles Hartley. “No. I’ve dealt with Charles before. It’ll be a particular pleasure to make it clear to him that Miss Hartley is very definitely out of bounds.”
Lord Ellsmere nodded and clapped his friend on the shoulder.
With a fleeting smile, Dominic was gone.
A brisk walk saw him entering Alton House. Immediately the door shut behind him, he issued a string of commands which had his groom and coachman running to the mews and his valet pounding up the stairs in search of his greatcoat.
Dominic waited in the hall, frowning, his cane, still in his hand, tapping impatiently against one booted foot. Julian had said he had seen them. That meant an open carriage. Surely Charles wasn’t proposing to drive her all the way to Buckinghamshire in an open carriage? No. When dusk fell, the cold would be intense. Presumably the open carriage was just part of his scheme, whatever that was.
Timms’s cough interrupted his thoughts. “I don’t know as this is the most opportune moment, m’lord, but this note came some time ago from Lady Winsmere.”
Dominic’s frown lifted. He took the note and broke it open. The sound of his carriage drawing up in the street coincided with his man’s precipitate descent with his coat. An instant later, garbed in his many caped greatcoat and clutching his sister’s missive in his hand, Viscount Alton climbed into his carriage.
“Winsmere House. Quickly!”
“OH, DOMINIC! Thank God you’ve come. I’ve been so worried.” Bella’s plaintive wail greeted Dominic as he crossed the threshold of her parlour.
“Don’t fly into a pucker, Bella. Julian Ellsmere has just told me he saw Georgiana leaving town with a man who sounds like Charles. Has she?”
“Yes!” Bella was wringing her hands in agitation. “She was so set on it, I knew I couldn’t stop her. But I don’t trust Charles one inch. That’s why I sent for you.”
Taking note of his sister’s unusually pale face, Dominic replied with far greater calmness than he felt. “Quite right.” He swallowed his impatience and smiled reassuringly. “Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me all about it?”
Haltingly, prodded by gentle questions, the tale of Charles’s visit and the subsquent events was retold. By the end of the tale, Dominic was confident he saw the light. He leant forward to pat Bella’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll fetch her back.”
Bella blinked up at him as he stood. “You’ll go straight away?”
“I was setting out when Timms gave me your note. Just as well. At least now I can go directly to the Hare and Hounds.” Dominic’s blue eyes critically surveyed his sister. At his insistence she reclined on the chaise. Her face was too pale and her agitation was too marked, even given the cause. Shrewdly he drew his own conclusions. He had been going to suggest she come with him, to lend propriety to their return to Green Street. But in her present condition he rather thought any further excitement was to be assiduously avoided. And, if truth be known, he would much rather be alone with Georgiana on the drive back to town. He had every intention of reading her a lecture on the subject of herself—care of. Afterwards, he felt sure he would enjoy her attempts to be conciliatory, not to mention grateful. And it would give him a heaven-sent opportunity to correct her mistaken assumption regarding his conduct at the masked ball. Yes, he was definitely looking forward to the return journey. Propriety, in this instance, could go hang.
He smiled again at his sister. “Don’t fret. Arthur will be home shortly. You can tell him all about it. I suspect we won’t make it back until late, so you’d best send your regrets to the Pevenseys.”
“Lord, yes! I couldn’t face a party on top of all this.”
Dominic grinned, then bent to bestow a kiss on one pale cheek. “Take care, my dear. You burn the candle with a vengeance.”
She grimaced at him but refused to rise to the bait.
Dominic crossed the room, but turned at the door to consider the listless figure on the chaise. Had she realised yet herself? One dark brow rose. With a last affectionate smile, he left.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JOYFUL ANTICIPATION of seeing her mother’s face again carried Georgiana through the streets of London, unaware of the man beside her. However, as the phaeton turned northwards and the more populated streets fell behind, a tingling sense of premonition awoke in her mind.
The afternoon remained fine, a brisk breeze whipping at her cloak and bonnet, promising hard frosts for the morning. As the buildings thinned, the air became perceptibly chillier. Charles’s conversation, uninspiring though it had been, had disappeared along with the fashionable dwellings. He seemed to be concentrating on driving the carriage at a slow but steady pace.
Georgiana stared ahead, willing the comforting bulk of the Hare and Hounds to loom on the horizon. But, from Green Street, it would take at least an hour to reach the comfort of the posting inn. A frown drew the golden arches of her brows together. Charles had called for her at three, which, now she came to think more clearly, was surely a little late for an expedition of such distance. It would be dark by the time they returned to Winsmere House. Still, there was little she could do about it now, beyond praying that the plodding nag drawing the phaeton would find its second wind. With a discontented grimace, she gave her attention to their surroundings. She refused to give further consideration to the doubt nagging from the deepest recesses of her mind, the little voice which warned that something was amiss.
Ten minutes later, a surreptitious movement beside her had her turning her head in time to see Charles replace his fob watch in his pocket.
He smiled at her. “Not long now.”
Georgiana knew the smile was meant to reassure. It missed its mark. Odd how she had forgotten how Charles’s smiles so rarely reached his eyes. Her suspicions, unspecified but now fully awakened, took possession of her mind. The horse’s plodding hoofs beat a slow accompaniment to her increasingly trepidatious heartbeat as she reviewed the potential threats she might all too soon have to face.
In the end, she was so preoccupied with her imaginary dragons that she missed the sight of the Hare and Hounds. Only when Charles turned the phaeton under the arch of the innyard did she shake off her reverie to look about her.
She had stopped here on her way to London. But that time she had been travelling in the luxury of Lord Alton’s coach, with attentive servants to guard her. Now, as Charles handed her down from the open carriage, she glanced about to see the yard full of people. Ostlers hurried fresh horses out of the stables beyond the yard, while others led weary equines freed of the traces to rest. Stableboys rushed hither and yon, under everyone’s feet, helping with the harness and carrying baggage back and forth from the inn. Inn servants stood with jugs of steaming ale and mulled wine, ready to refresh the passengers of the coaches pulled up for the change of horses. At the centre of the commotion stood the southbound accommodation coach, a huge, ponderous vehicle, settled like a dull black bullfrog on the cobbles. The passengers were alighting for their evening meal. Georgiana found herself the object of not a few staring eyes. She was about to turn away when one gentleman raised his high-crowned beaver and bowed.
With a start, Georgiana recognised a distant acquainta
nce of Bella’s and Arthur’s. She had been introduced to him at one of the balls. With a small smile, she acknowledged the bow, wondering at the hard-lipped, cold-eyed look the man gave her.
Accepting Charles’s arm over the uneven surface, more from necessity than inclination, she was about to ascend the two steps to the inn’s main door when a sudden commotion on the coach’s roof claimed all eyes. Three well dressed youths—roof passengers—were laughingly struggling with each other. At the coachman’s loud “Hoi!”, they desisted and, shamefacedly realising they were the centre of attention, sought to descend to less exalted positions. Waiting for his companions to climb down the rungs before him, one of the young men looked about the yard and caught sight of Georgiana. Her eyes met his with a jolt of recognition. He was the younger brother of one of the débutantes being presented that Season. She had danced with him at his sister’s come-out. His open-mouth stare told Georgiana quite clearly that something was severely wrong.
She had barely time to smile at the young man before Charles tugged her through the inn door. To her surprise, she found that Charles had hired a private parlour for their use. Distracted by the memory of the stares of the two gentlemen in the yard, she paid scant attention to this discovery. As she meekly followed the innkeeper up the wooden staircase, the reason for the stares occurred. Of course! She and Charles shared no more than a fleeting family resemblance. The gentlemen thought she was here, alone, with a man who was no relation. She blushed slightly. There was, of course, nothing wrong with being escorted somewhere by one’s cousin. She knew that. It was often the case in Italy, where families were large. She had not thought there was any impropriety attached to her going to an inn with Charles. Surely, if there had been, Bella would have raised some demur? But the disapprobation on the older man’s face, and the sheer stunned disbelief in the younger’s, stayed with her, banishing all ease.
So, when she heard the click from the parlour door as the latch fell into place behind the burly innkeeper, it was with a heightened sense of suspicion that she surveyed the neat parlour. It was empty. No Pringates. No paintings. Georgiana’s heart plummeted. Drawing a steadying breath, she turned to face Charles. “Where are the Pringates?”
Her cousin stood, leaning against the door, watching her with a shrewdly calculating gaze. After a moment, he pushed away from the solid oak panels and strolled towards her. “Doubtless they’ve been delayed. Let me take your cloak.”
Automatically surrendering her cloak, Georgiana forcibly repressed a shudder as Charles’s fingers inadvertently brushed her shoulders in removing it. Inadvertently? She risked a quick glance up at his face. What she saw there did nothing for her peace of mind. Quelling the panic rising within, she forced herself to act ingenuously. “Are we going to wait for them?”
Charles straightened from laying her cloak over a chair. Again she was subjected to a careful scrutiny. Georgiana struggled to quieten the hammering of her nerves and face him calmly. Apparently Charles was satisfied with what he saw.
“Having come this far, we might as well wait for a while.” His eyes raked her face again. “Perhaps a tea tray would fill in the time?”
Eager to have something to occupy them ostensibly while she considered the ramifications of her latest impulsive start, Georgiana forced a smile of agreement to her lips.
The innkeeper was summoned and, in short order, a buxom young serving girl bustled in with a tray loaded with teapot, scones and all necessary appurtenances. Charles dismissed her with a nod and a coin, holding the door for her.
Under cover of wielding the teapot, Georgiana watched Charles close the door. She almost sighed audibly when she saw he did not bother to lock it.
With renewed confidence, fragile though she suspected it was, she gave her mind over to plotting her moves. The first imperative was to learn what Charles had in mind. And, she supposed, there was always the possibility that she was inventing horrors where none existed. A slim hope, she felt, with her nerves jangling in insistent warning.
Taking a sip of strong tea to help steady herself, she asked, “There are no paintings, are there?”
Her question coincided with Charles taking a sip from his own cup. He choked but recovered swiftly. His faded blue gaze lifted and fixed on her face, and she had her answer. He smiled, not pleasantly. Georgiana felt her muscles tense.
“How perceptive of you, sweet cousin.”
His congratulatory tone purred sarcastically in her ears. For the first time since leaving the Place, Georgiana knew she was face-to-face with the real Charles Hartley. She fought down a wild desire to rush to the door. Charles might not be large, but he was a great deal larger than she was. Besides, she needed to know more. She was sick of mysteries. “Why? Why all this elaborate charade? What do you hope to gain?”
Charles laughed mirthlessly, his eyes never leaving her face. “What I want. Your hand in marriage.” Then his gaze slid slowly over her. “Among other things.”
His tone made Georgiana feel physically ill. She forced herself to sip her tea calmly, drawing what strength she could from the strong black brew. Her mind wandered frantically amid the pieces of the puzzle but could not make out the picture.
“Not worked it out yet?”
Charles’s taunt broke into her mental meanderings. She looked at him coldly.
He smiled, enjoying her obvious discomfort. He leant back in his chair, balancing it on its back legs. “I’ll spell it out for you, if you like.”
Georgiana decided that, however distressful, knowing his plans had to be her primary aim. So she allowed a look of patent interest to infuse her features.
Charles’s lips twisted in a gloating grin. “My plan is quite simple. We arrived here just as the accommodation coach was unloading. You were seen entering this inn with me by at least two people who know you. That, in itself, will cause only minor comment. However, when we leave here tomorrow morning, while the northbound accommodation coach passengers are breakfasting in the main room downstairs, I feel certain the sight of you leaving at such an early hour with me, without the benefit of maid or baggage, is going to raise quite a few brows.”
Georgiana’s heart sank as she pictured the scene. He was right, of course. Even she knew what a scandal such a sighting would provoke, regardless of the truth of the matter.
“So, you see, after that you’ll have little choice but to accept my proposal.” Charles’s grin turned decidedly wicked.
Georgiana had had enough. Carefully replacing her cup on the tray, she wiped her hands on the napkin and then, laying the cloth aside, fixed her cousin with a determined stare. “Charles, I have no idea why you are so set on marrying me. You don’t even like me.”
At that, he laughed. Hand over heart, he bowed from the waist mockingly. “I assure you, sweet Georgie, I’ll manage to drum up enough enthusiasm to convince all and sundry of what took place here.”
Georgiana shook her head slowly. “It won’t work, you know. I won’t marry you. There’s no reason why I should.”
The cynical twist of Charles’s lips told her she had not heard all of his plan. “I hesitate to correct you, fair cousin, but, unless you want the Winsmeres mired in scandal, you’ll most certainly marry me. It won’t have escaped the notice of the gossip-mongers that you’re supposedly in their care.”
Involuntarily, Georgiana’s lip curled. “You really are despicable, you know.”
To her surprise, her tone was perfectly controlled. In fact she felt strangely calm. The lack of expression in Charles’s cold eyes sent shivers up and down her spine. But now her own, usually latent temper was on the rise. It had been one thing when he had threatened her; to threaten her friends was another matter entirely. She folded her hands and met his gaze unflinchingly. “Be that as it may, I repeat, I will not marry you. Unless things have changed rather dramatically in England, I suspect you still need me to speak my vows. That being so, if you persist in your plan to ruin my reputation, then, when I leave here, I will stop at Green
Street only long enough to pick up my luggage and servants. I’ll return to Ravello.” Summoning a disaffected shrug, she lifted her chin and added, “I always meant to go back eventually. And, with me gone, no scandal of any magnitude will touch Bella and Arthur.”
For one long moment, Charles stared at her, eyes quite blank. It had never occurred to him, when he had planned this little campaign, that his prey would simply refuse to co-operate. Having seen her riding high in the social whirl, the threat of a catastrophic fall from grace had seemed an unbeatable card. Now, looking into hazel eyes that held far too much calmness, Charles knew he was facing defeat. Typically, he chose to counter with the usual threat of a bully. With a low growl, he rose menacingly, his chair falling back with a clatter on the floor.
Georgiana’s eyes widened in dismay. She felt trapped, unable to move, caught and transfixed by the animosity which poured from Charles’s eyes. Not until then had she realised just how much he disliked—nay, hated—her. She stopped breathing.
Charles was poised to come around the table, muscles tensed to lay ungentle hands on her, when the unlikely sound of quiet applause broke across Georgiana’s strained senses. She turned towards the door.
Deafened by his anger, Charles only turned after seeing her attention distracted.
The sight that met their eyes was, to Georgiana, as welcome as it was unbelievable. The door lay open. Absorbed in their mutual revelations, neither had heard the click of the latch. Leaning against the door-frame, his greatcoat open and negligently thrown over his shoulders to reveal the elegance of his attire, Lord Alton surveyed the room. Having successfully gained the attention of both its occupants, he smiled at Georgiana and, pushing away from the door, strolled towards her.
In a daze, Georgiana stood and held out her hand, bemused by the sudden turn of events. Blue eyes met hers, conveying warming reassurance and something else—something very like irritation. Bewildered, Georgiana blinked.
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