by Rose Pearson
“I am sure that no one here would dare steal something from you,” said one lady, coming closer to Lady Northcott, who held out one hand to her. “We are all friends, are we not?”
“We are,” Lady Northcott answered with a slight sting in her voice. “Most of us are, at least.” Her eyes turned towards Oliver, who knew at once what she intended. The way the footman had bumped into him, the anger in Lady Northcott’s eyes now—it all made sense. He had rejected her and thus, she had done what she could to have him ejected from society. Either that or she expected him to plead with her somehow so that an arrangement could be made where he would pay for her silence.
Oliver was not about to allow her to do so.
“Here.” He tugged off his coat, eliciting gasps from some of the ladies near to him. “If you would have your footmen search my pockets, Lady Northcott, I shall show to you that my other pockets,” he gestured to his breeches, “are also quite empty.” His voice rang around the room with a sense of strength and determination within it he was sure Lady Northcott had not expected. “I may not be a part of your English society in every way, Lady Northcott, but I am no thief.”
Lady Northcott’s eyes glittered. “I thank you for your willingness to prove it,” she said as one of the footmen plunged his hand into one of the coat pockets. Nothing was said for a few moments as she watched the footman closely, clearly expecting him to find something. Oliver stood quietly, feeling a sense of anger rising in his chest and silently praying that Lady Georgiana had found a place to hide the emeralds.
“There is nothing there, my lady.”
Oliver accepted the coat back without a word, looking at Lady Northcott with a slightly raised eyebrow. Lady Northcott’s face went a shade of scarlet, her eyes narrowed and brimming with rage. She was furious that her plan had not gone as she expected.
“Oh!”
A sudden exclamation from the other side of the room caught everyone’s attention. A young lady gestured to the floor, in the corner of the room.
“Lady Northcott!” cried another, standing close to the first. “Might they be here? In the corner of the room?”
With another exclamation of surprise rippling about the room, Oliver watched as Lady Northcott rose from her chair, holding her head high as she moved towards the two young ladies, looking down at the floor and stepping back in evident astonishment.
Lady Georgiana had done well.
With a long breath of relief, Oliver watched as Lady Northcott began to express her gratitude to the two young ladies for spotting the emeralds, daring a glance back over her shoulder towards Oliver, who returned it with an easy smile. Very soon, the musical performances were continued, and whilst Oliver did not step into the company of Lady Georgiana again for the rest of the evening, he knew very well it was to her he had to be grateful. She had saved him, had not doubted him and had trusted he was not guilty. In acting as quickly as she had, she had saved him from ruin—saved both himself and Lord and Lady Rutledge, who would have borne the brunt of his shame in society. His heart swelled with warm regard for her once more, leaving him more determined than ever he would spend Christmas here in England, just so he could be in her company for a little longer. For the moment, nothing else seemed to matter.
Chapter Seven
“A very fine afternoon, Lady Georgiana, do you not think?”
Georgiana bit her lip, finding it quite impossible to respond to what was the very same comment Lord Poole had made only a few minutes ago. He was both dull and staid, clearly having no consideration for her comfort at the present moment. There was nothing in his conversation that caught her attention, no willingness to consider what she might be feeling at present but rather a self-interest that made her long to be free of his company.
“I have every intention of returning to the estate within the week,” he informed her as the cold air began to nip at her cheeks. “The snow has begun to clear, I think, and I hope the roads will be adequate.”
Georgiana said nothing, her heart beginning to fill with a deep heaviness that tugged her spirits all the lower. She did not want to marry Lord Poole, but her brother had made the arrangements and, given she had no other option, Georgiana had found herself betrothed to the gentleman without him even having to propose. When her brother had asked for her consent, Georgiana had hesitated for a moment—and in that moment, she had seen her brother frown, a deep concern in his eyes that spoke of anxiety and worry. Her heart had sunk down low, knowing that Lord Allerton had done what he could, had done his best to find an excellent match for her, and that if she refused to agree, then her brother might never again be able to find her a suitor—for news of her refusal would certainly make its way through society one way or another.
So, she had given her consent. Her brother had been quite delighted, and Georgiana had silently hoped she had not made a foolish mistake, worrying that Lord Poole was not the right character but fearing there would be no other choice for her. With her brother’s previous financial difficulties, the ton still did not trust him fully, and, as such, only certain gentleman might be willing to consider her. She ought to be relieved, she told herself, that Lord Poole was not old and decrepit, or a widower with several children already. There were positive things about him, even if she was still quite disappointed, given all she had hoped for.
The difficulty was that, in the short time she had spent with him, Lord Poole was not improving himself upon her by any means. He might bear a good title and come from an excellent family, but that did not mean he had a good character. As far as she was concerned, he evidenced nothing but selfishness and considered nothing but his own interests. It was in his own interests to marry and thus, that was what he now intended to do. It mattered very little to him whether or not she was contented, whether or not she had any concerns regarding their suitability. It was nothing more than a practical arrangement, and Georgiana could not help but feel as though she were nothing other than goods to be bartered.
“We will wed a week or two after Christmas,” he told her, again making her realize she had no say whatsoever as to how things came about. “The banns, I hope, will be called this coming Sunday, but with the snow...” He shrugged as though it did not matter very much at all. “Once I receive word the banns have been called for the first Sunday, I will set a date for our marriage.”
Georgiana let out a small, somewhat despondent breath. “I see,” she muttered, a little sorrowfully. “And then we will reside at your estate?”
Lord Poole glanced at her as though she were being quite foolish. “Yes, of course,” he told her with a shrug. “You will be expected to take on all the duties of the mistress of the house, and I shall continue with my affairs. Your rooms will be one side of the house, with mine on the other.”
Georgiana frowned, glancing up at him. This was not the usual way of things, for a husband and wife usually had adjoining rooms, with one door between them. “To be so far apart is unusual,” she said as he looked away from her. “Is there a particular reason as to why you wish such a thing?”
Lord Poole cleared his throat, a slight flush rising in his cheeks. “I do not like to be disturbed,” he told her without once looking down into her face. “When I decide to come to you, then I shall do so quickly and without lingering.”
Her cheeks heated as she held her gaze, seeing a small sense of awkwardness in his expression and wondering at it.
“And,” he continued, clearing his throat again, “I wish to have privacy in my rooms, Lady Georgiana. That is something you should expect.”
A sudden heavy weight flung itself down into her stomach, making her stagger. Lord Poole did not even notice, continuing on his with his long strides and never even glancing back at her. Georgiana forced herself to catch him, her pain beginning to rifle through her as she realized what her betrothed meant.
He meant he did not intend to remain solely hers. He already had other intentions, it seemed. Perhaps he already had others he did not wish to give up.
Maids, even, who would give him whatever he wished whenever he wished it. If he chose to have a mistress, then she was to step aside and allow him to do so, even if she felt a great deal of pain over such a thing. It was something she ought to expect, he had told her, and yet the very thought of it sent such a sense of pain to her heart she could barely breathe.
Her mind filled with a vision of Mr. Lowell. Something within her just seemed to know he would never behave in such a manner, for he was honest and fair, with a good character and a clear sense of right and wrong. Would he marry and then seek out a mistress? Would he state he ought to be permitted to continue with any such liaisons without question? Or would he never even have permitted those liaisons to take place?
“I—I am not contented with such an arrangement,” she said breathlessly as Lord Poole shot her an angry look. “That is not to my liking at all, Lord Poole.”
A snort ripped from his throat, making her wince inwardly. “I care very little about what you like or what you do not,” he told her, callously. “This is nothing more than an arrangement, Lady Georgiana. You will provide me with what I require, and, in return, I will provide you with what you require.”
“And what is it you think I require?” she asked hotly, feeling a deep sense of anger begin to stir in her heart. “Loyalty? Fidelity?”
A scornful glance was dropped on her head. “Fidelity is not something you require, only something you would prefer,” he told her without any opportunity for her to argue. “You require a good home, a husband, and a family. That is what every young lady requires, Lady Georgiana. And that is precisely what I intend to provide for you. If there is anything more you wish, that is nothing more than a preference, and thus, is not something I am obliged to give you.”
Georgiana swallowed hard, feeling a ball of anger settling in her stomach and finding herself so furious, she could not find the words to speak. Lord Poole was not the sort of gentleman she wanted to marry, not when he cared so little for her and for their marriage. It was all about seeking his pleasures, his desires, and having no consideration for her whatsoever. Part of her wanted to return home and to demand that her brother bring this arrangement to an end, whilst the other part of her wanted to throw a stinging rebuttal into Lord Poole’s face.
Not that she could do either, of course. As far as her brother was concerned, Lord Poole was an excellent match, and, as it looked on paper, he was. She had agreed to it also, had she not? Despite her concerns, which meant she had nothing but herself to blame for what would follow.
Despite the quiet urgings of your heart.
Georgiana closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath and steadying herself. Lord Poole, having given no consideration to her whatsoever, continued to walk forward, looking all about the park as though he might find something more interesting than his present company.
Georgiana walked a few steps behind him, glad for the quietness of the park and finding herself lost in thought. Thoughts that centered solely on Mr. Lowell. The soiree two nights ago had been something of a revelation, for not only had she had to make a decision as to whether or not Mr. Lowell could be trusted, but she had also then, thereafter, had to decide what she was to do. It had surprised her just how quickly she had acted, how swiftly she had decided he was not at fault. Whether or not it had been the look in his eyes, the shock in his expression, or the words of innocence that had sprung from his lips, she could not say—all she knew was there was something there that spoke to her heart. She had believed him, had trusted he had not stolen the necklace, and so had acted without so much as a second thought.
It had been simple enough to steal to the back of the room, very easy to drop the necklace to the floor in the corner of the room before stealing away again. Every eye had been on Lady Northcott, who had been putting on an excellent performance. When Georgiana had seen the anger in Lady Northcott’s eyes as she had glared at Mr. Lowell, she had known for certain that her trust in him had not been misplaced. Lady Northcott was nothing more than a manipulative shrew who had taken Mr. Lowell’s rejection of her very badly indeed and, thus, had attempted to have him thrown from society as a consequence. Upon reflection, Georgiana realized that Lady Northcott must have planned such a thing in advance, perhaps expecting Mr. Lowell to refuse her and devising a way to punish him. The dark scheming of Lady Northcott’s mind frightened Georgiana, were she honest, and she was glad that Mr. Lowell had been spared any shame or embarrassment for something he had not done.
Her lips twisted together as she continued to consider Mr. Lowell. There was something about him that drew her to him. He did not know she had been watching him the very moment he had come into Lady Northcott’s drawing-room, did not know that her eyes had fixed upon him, and watched closely as he spoke to Lady Northcott. Nor would he be aware of the relief that had flooded her as he had stepped away from their hostess and found Lady Allerton soon after. She had chosen to leave them to converse, not wanting to make her interest in the gentleman apparent, for even the awareness of it within her own heart had frightened her.
You cannot feel anything for Mr. Lowell, she told herself firmly, looking up at the almost foreboding figure of Lord Poole, who was now walking ahead of her by quite a distance. You are engaged.
That did not bring her even the smallest surge of joy. Instead, she felt an ache building deep within her heart, felt her stomach twist and her throat begin to clog with a deep sense of regret. She could not let her heart become involved with another, not when she had already made her choice. Besides which, Mr. Lowell was to return to America soon, and she would never see him again for the rest of her life! It was foolish to even consider him, she told herself, her lips trembling at the swell of emotion that flooded her heart. For whatever reason, the thought of having to bid him farewell, of having to step away from him for good, brought her such pain she could not even allow her mind to dwell on it.
“This is to be the most miserable of Christmases,” she muttered a tad ruefully as Georgiana forced her tears back. Normally, Christmas brought her a good deal of joy but, for this year, she found herself having no sense of happiness whatsoever. To be engaged was one thing, but to find herself betrothed to a gentleman who cared for no one but himself was quite another. There could be no happiness for her with this arrangement, Georgiana knew, but she had made her decision. Mr. Lowell would return to America, she would remain here, and their lives would continue in very different directions.
“Ah, Lady Georgiana! I thought that must be you!”
Her heart turned over in her chest as she started with surprise, having not seen the very man she had been considering now approaching her from the left.
“Mr.…Mr. Lowell,” she stammered, aware of how heat rushed up into her face and left her blushing. “I did not see you.”
“Apparently.” His grin was easy but only added to her sense of embarrassment. “It is very cold for you to be walking out today. Is there nobody with you?” He chuckled as Georgiana ducked her head. “I thought that was most improper.”
Georgiana pressed her lips together tightly, her stomach twisting with nervousness. She would have to tell Mr. Lowell about Lord Poole, of course, but something within her feared for his reaction. There was an awkwardness there, a tension she had not felt before. It was as if she wanted to hide her betrothal from him, wanted to pretend she was as free as he believed her to be. And yet the truth stuck out starkly before her, making her drag in air as she tried to find the right words to say.
“I—I am not here alone, Mr. Lowell,” she began, seeing how he looked at her in surprise. “This gentleman is accompanying me.” She gestured hopelessly towards Lord Poole, who had not so much as glanced over his shoulder to see where she might be. “Lord Poole,” she said dully.
Mr. Lowell blinked in surprise, glancing from Georgiana’s face to Lord Poole and then back again. “He doesn’t seem to be doing a good job of walking alongside you,” he said with a frown. “I thought a gentleman was meant to
take great care to always pay great attention to the lady in question.”
Georgiana wanted to turn away, such was her embarrassment, but forced a smile to her face instead. “You are quite correct there, Mr. Lowell,” she said somewhat awkwardly. “Lord Poole is often…distracted by his thoughts, as you see him here at the present moment.” She gestured behind her. “And my maid is also present, as you can see.”
Mr. Lowell’s frown did not fade. “That is rather unorthodox still,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Rude, in fact.” Tilting his head, he looked at her sharply. “He is not attempting to court you, I hope!” he exclaimed, a sudden mirth filling his eyes. “I fear he is doomed to fail otherwise!”
Georgiana did not smile and, as she looked back into the warm hazel eyes of Mr. Lowell, she felt her heart squeeze with an overwhelming pain that had her wanting to cry out aloud.
“He is not courting me, no,” she said softly as Mr. Lowell’s eyes began to widen with surprise. “He is my betrothed.”
For some moments, neither of them said anything more. Mr. Lowell stared at Georgiana as though he expected her to say something more, to explain herself in a manner that made sense. Georgiana did not know what to do nor even where to look, her gaze unable to find a place to settle and rest.
“I—I did not know...” Mr. Lowell cleared his throat gruffly, his eyes on the ground as he attempted to regain his composure. “I mean to say, Lady Georgiana, that I offer you my hearty congratulations.” This was accompanied by a swift bow, although his hand reached out towards her, and Georgiana found herself giving him her hand without even a momentary hesitation. “I am sure Lord Poole will be an excellent husband to you.”
“Thank you.” Georgiana hated that her voice was so thin, so pained, and with a sense of sorrow within it, but there was nothing she could do to prevent such a thing from occurring. She was not happy with her engagement, was not at all satisfied nor content, but there was nothing she could do. She could not even voice her upset, for it would be entirely improper to state such a thing in front of Mr. Lowell.
