"Yes," Céleste replied with a heavy sigh.
"What's this?" he demanded, his cool, grey eyes frowning with concern. "There have been more plots and intrigues to get these blasted vouchers than the Duke of Wellington ever employed in the entire bloody war. Don't tell me you don't want to go?"
"Oh, non," Céleste replied, reaching out and clasping his arm. "But you won't be there so it won't be any fun at all."
"Nonsense," he replied, though Georgiana could see he was more than pleased by the comment. "You'll flirt and dance with all your cicisbei and not give your poor old husband another thought."
At this point Georgiana felt it was prudent to leave them alone, as there was a look in Céleste's eyes that proved her husband’s words wrong.
***
The ritual of readying herself for the coming evening was not quite enough to dispel the thunderous fluttering of wings that seemed more akin to crows than butterflies as Georgiana's stomach clenched in anxiety. She'd barely eaten a thing all day, too aware that tonight was the real test. Almack's was the holiest of holies, hallowed ground to the ton, and whilst Seymour might have been able to blackmail her way into gaining her vouchers, she couldn't force them to accept her.
She let out a shaky sigh as her abigail stepped back and nodded with approval.
"Oh, my Lady, you do look a picture."
She smiled at her maid in the glass. She was perhaps a year or two younger Georgiana and had quickly formed an attachment to her mistress that boded a good relationship. "Thank you so much, Sarah. You've done a wonderful job."
Madame Lisabeth had indeed outdone herself with her wonderful design. The dress was her own version of the Saxe-Cobourg robe which had been the talk of the ton just a few weeks previously. It fell off the shoulder with little satin sleeves at her upper arms and she'd used the newly discovered and very sought after Chinese gauze in a pale shimmering gold. It was trimmed with tulle and ivory satin and set against Georgiana's deep russet locks the whole image presented that of something burnished by the sun. Although it was by no means the fashion, once again that single lock of hair had been allowed to tumble carelessly over her shoulder. This time Georgiana's misgivings were even greater than before. Céleste, however, had been adamant. The curl remained.
By the time they had greeted Lady Russell outside the doors of Almack's Georgiana felt positively nauseated by the thought of having to face a ballroom full of the ton's most powerful and fashionable figures. Tonight could make her, or it could ruin her once and for all.
"Come," Céleste whispered, taking her arm and giving it an encouraging squeeze. "I am beside you and who cares what they think? They don't know the truth about either of us. They will believe the face we show them if we carry ourselves with confidence."
Georgiana returned a smile that made her face feel tight and Céleste tutted at her.
"Mon Dieu, Georgie, don't you know 'ow ravishing you look tonight? You've already got Beau 'anging on your sleeve and if you think it's your fortune alone that captured 'is attention you are much mistaken!"
She could do nothing but give a little huff of laughter in the face of Céleste's obvious indignation. Well at least her friend was confident on her behalf, and ... well that thought did actually make her feel better.
"You 'ave friends 'ere," Céleste whispered with a severe expression, and so Georgiana smiled, a little more naturally, took a deep breath, and entered the fray.
They walked through the grand entrance hall and were relieved of their cloaks before ascending the elegant stone staircase to the ballroom. Music and laughter and the soft burble of voices could be heard long before they approached the great doors and Georgiana caught her breath as she saw the famous ballroom for the first time.
The room was vast and exquisite with plasterwork medallions and swags in a classical design and a vast chandelier lit with more candles than she had ever seen in one place. The walls were white and a pale gold and the draperies a soft duck egg blue. On one side of the great room was a large balcony that ran almost a third of one wall and allowed people to watch those who were dancing swirling below them in a dizzying flurry of silken skirts.
With a feeling close to panic closing about her throat Georgiana realised she had never seen so many people all in one place before in her life. The place was packed full of hundreds of people, all of them dressed in the finest fabrics and most glittering jewels, if not always with the best judgement or taste.
A whisper seemed to flutter through the crowd and Georgiana became gradually aware that her arrival had been noted. The panicky feeling began to take a greater hold of her until a sleek voice whispered in her ear.
"And here is that shiny red apple again. I really don't know what you expect a poor, helpless creature to do against such temptation, my Lady. I am being drawn into dangerous waters."
She looked around and almost sighed with relief at the vision of Beau's beautiful smile.
Dipping a curtsey she returned his greeting with one of deep gratitude. "Good evening, Lord Beaumont. I confess I am very happy to see a friendly face."
"Friendly?" he replied, one eyebrow a little quirked. "Darling, I'm not sure that's the word you're looking for. I have no intention of being your friend I'm afraid."
She laughed and shook her head. "Very well then, I'm glad to see you even if you're not the least bit friendly."
He grinned at her and then his eyes fell to the curl once again and he sighed. "I intend to have a lock of that hair you know."
"Oh do you?" she replied, aware that Céleste was speaking to Aunt Seymour and another acquaintance that had joined them but was also keeping an eye on her protégé. "And just how do you propose to do that?"
"I couldn't possibly tell you that, now could I?" he replied, those impossibly blue eyes glittering with mischief. "But I should beware dark corners or I will be forced to take advantage of you."
Georgiana bit her lip against a grin. She knew she shouldn't really encourage him. He was very far from the kind of man she wanted to marry but it was nice to have an admirer, especially when he was undeniably the best looking man in the room. But against her will her eyes never stopped looking for the one she had believed to be Beau. After all he'd clearly been wealthy and from a good family. There was every chance he was here ... somewhere ...
"I thank you for the warning, though I thought it was I who was the danger to you? Not the other way around."
"Oh you are," he replied, and this time his voice was more serious. "You are a very dangerous game indeed," he murmured.
At this point Aunt Seymour and Céleste turned back to her and Beau chatted politely to them all for a little while, securing dances with both her and Céleste before leaving them alone to join some other friends.
"That's a good start for you, my girl," Seymour said with an approving nod. "Though it won't do to be seen too much in his company. Too much in the petticoat line that one, and that would do you no good at all. But his interest will spur a good many others to seek you out, mark my words."
"I'm surprised to see he's even allowed here," Georgiana said in a low voice. "I mean after everything last year and his reputation and all ..."
"Oh but he's the height of fashion, my dear," the old lady replied chuckling. "And such an amusing man, such engaging manners. Respectability isn't the only way to gain access here you see, it's a little more complicated than that." She gave Georgiana a wink before complaining that she had been standing quite long enough and went to seek out some of her cronies.
It soon became clear that Seymour's words had been perfectly correct. Although Georgiana heard many whispers about The Siren, and caught many sneers and disgusted looks that made her blush with mortification, that wasn't the only attention she caught. She even noticed one or two ladies with a familiar curl falling with great daring into their décolletage. It appeared she had started a trend. But it was certainly not just the women who had noticed her.
"Like bees around a 'oney pot," Céleste h
issed in her ear at one point as Seymour was sought out time and again by various men, eager to be given an introduction to the newest and brightest diamond in the room. For that was what many were calling her, and Georgiana was torn between deep embarrassment and bemusement at some of the extravagant compliments that were cast her way. But naturally, she couldn't help but wonder ... how many of them would have been so keen if the fact she was an heiress hadn't also been dangled in front of them, and how on earth was she to tell?
Chapter 20
"Wherein the ton holds its breath."
"I've brought you a sensible man this time, Georgiana."
Looking up Georgiana found Seymour advancing on them once more and felt sorry for the old lady who'd barely had a moment's peace all evening. Georgiana had been rather hoping for a little rest herself after having been danced off her feet for the past two hours. But beside Seymour was a tall and terribly gaunt young man with spectacles. He seemed rather serious and ill at ease in his own skin, as if not quite sure what to do with his height. He bent to greet her but remained a little stooped as if his lofty frame might offend somehow.
"He's shy but kind, and as rich as Croesus." Seymour hissed in her ear. "Lady Dalton, may I present Lord Nibley."
Georgiana curtsied and looked up, to her amusement finding the poor man had blushed scarlet, but there were a kindly and intelligent pair of brown eyes behind the rims of his wire spectacles.
"I am very happy to meet you, my Lord," she said, smiling at him.
"The pleasure is mine," he said, and then swallowed hard.
They stood in rather awkward silence for a few minutes while Georgiana racked her brain for a topic of conversation.
"It's very ..."
"Do you ever ..."
They laughed as the two of them had finally spoke at once.
"I do beg your pardon," Georgiana said. "Please continue."
Lord Nibley shook his head in a rather shamefaced manner. "I'm not sure it would be worth the effort, I'm afraid I don't have much talent for this sort of thing."
"If you are a sensible man, as Lady Russell said, I hardly doubt it. A great deal of talk about nothing very much cannot be something you aspire to surely?" she said, grinning at him.
He let out a breath and seemed to relax a little. "Oh but I do," he replied, his expression quite earnest. "I would give anything to be able to converse with ease at ... at these gatherings but I'm afraid the knack of it escapes me."
He seemed to prove the point by falling silent again and Georgiana cast around once more.
"What do you usually do when you're not in town?"
His face brightened perceptibly and she hoped she might have struck gold.
"Rocks," he said, with some enthusiasm.
Georgiana smothered a grin and wondered if she had a guardian angel with a twisted sense of humour. Somehow she doubted he was speaking of golden rocks.
"Yes, geology you see, fascinating subject," he said, with real passion lighting his eyes now. "Do you know anything about it?"
"Not a thing no," she admitted, and wondering with some amusement if she was going to be able to keep it that way.
She began to lose the will to live sometime after he uttered the words rock strata and began a detailed explanation about the different kinds of fossils to be found in each layer.
Eventually he fell silent again, apparently having become aware he was monopolising the conversation by the look of embarrassed chagrin on his face. Taking pity on him she tried again.
"Do you have any friends here tonight, my Lord?"
He shook his head and clasped his hands behind his back with a sigh, putting her strongly in mind of a gloomy heron and then brightened as a thought occurred to him. "Oh, yes. Of course, Lord Beaumont is here. He's a devilish fine fellow, we were at school together."
Georgiana chuckled. "Well devilish I can believe."
Lord Nibley gave her a rueful smile and scratched his nose. "He does have something of a reputation I suppose. Sindalton is here too of course. Usually if Beau's around Sin's not far behind ... been saying that since Eton, like brothers they are."
Georgiana's heart seemed to give a little stutter in her chest and her stomach clenched.
"S-Sindalton?" she stammered, staring up at him in horror.
"Yes of course, I saw him earlier, he ..." Lord Nibley stopped in his tracks, staring at her and mirroring the horrified look in her eyes. "Oh, good God. M-my Lady, I never even considered. I b-beg you to forgive me ... it never crossed my mind."
She forced a smile and shook her head though her face felt flushed and rather hot and the atmosphere in the room had become oppressive at the idea that she might have to face him at any moment. "Please don't think anything of it, my Lord. It ... it was just a shock."
Lord Nibley stooped a little further, his voice pitched low and full of concern. "You didn't know he was here?"
She shook her head, seeming unable to form the words.
"S-silly of me," she murmured.
"Not at all," he said, suddenly sounding rather forceful. "I have to say I think you're ... you're magnificent."
Georgiana looked up at him in surprise and he blushed a little at his rather forward statement and pushed his spectacles further up his nose. "I can't imagine the courage it must take to face all of these awful people, Lady Dalton. Though I for one consider you totally blameless and anyone who thinks otherwise is nothing but a narrow minded, scandal monger," he said, with some considerable heat.
"I couldn't have said it better myself, dear Percy," drawled an amused voice and Lord Nibley turned as Beau arrived, smiling at Georgiana with a knowing look in his eyes.
"Though I don't think Lady Dalton has anything to worry about. From everything that has been said in my hearing, she is a great success." He adopted a thoughtful expression as though he was trying to recall the comments. "Ah yes, her ladyship is perfectly charming, quite unaffected, delightful manners and quite as she ought to be ... oh, and terribly, terribly beautiful." There was an intense look in his eyes as he finished his little recital and Georgiana was forced to look away from him ... and straight at the tall and striking figure of a man she thought she had known very well.
She held her breath and stared.
He had his back to her but Georgiana knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was him. She had the strangest feeling that the world had frozen around her and her lungs had seized with it. She clutched at her throat as panic fluttered in her chest and was suddenly aware of a warm hand clasped gently around her wrist.
"What is it, love?" Beau asked, his voice quiet but urgent. "Who have you seen?"
"The m-man I thought was you. H-he's here," she stammered, knowing he was one of only two people in the world she could admit that to. Beau's head whipped around and he scanned the crowd.
"Where?" he demanded. "I swear I'll kill him."
"No." She shook her head, unable to take her eyes from him though her vision began to blur. Beau followed her gaze and caught his breath just as he turned and made his profile visible.
"That's him?" he demanded, with such rage in his voice that she caught her breath. "The tall fellow with dark hair, next to the lady in violet?"
She nodded, too miserable to deny it. Seeing him again brought his lies and betrayal rushing back to her and she was torn between wanting to cross the room and slap his face and running away as fast as she could. In the end she did neither, too frozen to react at all.
"I'll bloody kill him," Beau raged, glaring at him.
"Who is he?" she asked, her voice trembling as she looked up into his furious blue eyes.
"That, my Lady," he replied, with cold anger glittering in his eyes. "Is Sebastian Grenville, the Duke of Sindalton."
She didn't have time to react, to have the luxury of assimilating this horrifying piece of information, because at that moment the duke turned around and their eyes met.
For a moment, behind his obvious shock, she thought she saw something in h
is eyes, relief, happiness even ... and then he took in the fact that Beau stood beside her, and that the eyes of everyone in the room were watching them.
The moment stretched on, stretched so thin it was as though the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Overwhelmed she didn't know what to do, how to react until she heard Beau's voice.
"Look at me. Now!" His voice was low but so forceful she could do nothing but obey him and her eyes snapped to his. "Take my arm," he said, holding her gaze, his voice calm now but brooking no argument. Once her hand was settled upon his sleeve he covered it with his hand and pulled her in the opposite direction. "We shall take a little walk," he said, keeping his voice soft. "And everything will be just fine. Now look at me and laugh."
She looked up at him, blinking, too bewildered to understand what was happening. "Laugh?" she echoed, wondering if he'd run mad.
He ducked his head a little to whisper in her ear. "Everyone is watching us," he said. "They are watching your reaction. Do not give them the satisfaction. Now laugh."
He looked back at her and winked as though he'd just said something rather shocking and she forced a laugh that sounded a little too close to hysteria for comfort.
"Good girl," he replied, nodding with approval. "We'll get through this, don't you worry," he said, patting her hand. "And then I have every intention of killing my best friend."
***
Sebastian forced his feet to move, to take him away from the scene that had just played out. It couldn't be. It simply couldn't be. His head was seething, like his brain was full of writhing snakes and he just ... couldn't ... think! He forced his way through the crush, unheeding of gasps of disapproval, trying to block out the malicious whispers as the gossips fell upon the latest juicy morsel he'd provided for their entertainment.
He'd been determined to cut Lady Dalton, to turn his back on her and show the ton that the Duke of Sindalton did not approve of her arrival among their select ranks. But it had been her who had cut him. And it hadn't been the Lady Dalton he'd imagined seeing here. She had been brassy and knowing and far too vulgar for anyone to wish to know. No. That hadn't been her at all. It had been his own sweet, Georgiana, the girl he'd been determined to run back to tomorrow because his heart was breaking without her. Except it couldn't be because if it was that would mean ... The facts and the dreams he'd built up around the woman he'd fallen for collided and span in his head. She couldn't be Lady Dalton. The woman was an heiress and Georgiana was a nobody, a doctor's daughter with no name and no fortune. Unless ...
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