“Are you all right, at least?”
“Yes.”
That would have to do, though Tristan wished he had time to shadow Robert and make certain he truly was all right. Following him about wouldn’t accomplish anything, however. Besides being very good at not being followed, Bit needed help, and Tristan had no idea what sort of help, or who could best provide it.
“Blast it all,” he muttered, continuing on to his own bedchamber. Georgiana was the only one with whom Bit seemed able to converse in full sentences, and she was on her way to negotiate with Amelia Johns. What a bloody wonderful day they were all having.
“And where are you off to?”
Georgiana started, nearly ripping the button off her pelisse as she whipped around. “Aunt Frederica, you startled me.”
“I can see that.” The dowager duchess continued gazing at her, settling for lifting an eyebrow at her niece’s choice of attire.
Georgie glanced down at her gown. Pale green and very simple, it was probably the most demure dress she owned. Looking as innocent as possible had seemed a good idea.
“I have a few errands.” That didn’t seem to cause her aunt to continue on down the hallway, so she smiled. “Did you want anything from Mendelsohns?”
“Ah. They had some new lace I wanted to look at. Do you mind if I come along?”
Drat. She couldn’t very well drag her aunt with her when she went to Amelia’s to ask for the return of her stockings. Well, that was what she deserved for trying to deceive her. “Of course I don’t mind. I only thought you’d find it dull.”
“Nonsense. I’ll get my reticule.” Frederica left the doorway just as Pascoe appeared in it.
“Lady Georgiana,” the butler enunciated, “you have a caller. Shall I inform him that you are out?”
Him. A male caller could be anyone, and she knew for a fact that the Marquis of Westbrook would be calling later that afternoon. But of course her pulse sped anyway, just on the chance it might be Tristan. Her aunt had stopped again, though, and Georgiana stifled a sigh. Subterfuge was far more difficult than she would have imagined. “Yes, please convey my apologies, Pascoe.”
“Very good, my lady.” The butler headed back downstairs.
Cursing to herself, Georgiana watched him descend. “Pascoe, who is it, by the way? You didn’t say,” she called.
The butler stopped. “He had no card, my lady, or I would have given it to you. It is Robert Carroway, I believe. All the gentleman said was that he wished to speak with you.”
“Robert Carroway?” Georgiana hurried down the stairs. “Do you mind waiting, Aunt?” she called over her shoulder.
“Never mind, dear. I’m going to luncheon with Lady Dorchester. Your schedule is far too erratic for me.”
“Thank you!” Georgiana smiled as she reached the sitting room doorway—and nearly collided with Bit as she charged into the room. He stepped back, avoiding her, though it looked as though he’d been on his way out. That didn’t surprise her.
“Bit, good morning,” she said, backing up to give him room.
“Apologies,” he muttered, as though it hurt him to speak. He strode past her into the foyer. “My mistake.”
“I was just about to go for a walk,” she said to his back, throwing her reticule to Pascoe, who caught it and put it behind him with nothing more than a raised eyebrow. “Would you care to join me?”
He slowed, nodding the back of his head at her. She needed a chaperone. Mary was upstairs mending the gown she’d worn to Grey and Emma’s last night, which had mysteriously lost two buttons. A downstairs maid, her arms full of table linens, emerged from a doorway. “Josephine, please put those down and join me for a walk.”
“M…me, my lady?”
Pascoe stepped forward. “Do as Lady Georgiana says, Josephine. At once.”
In less than a moment they were out the door, Robert walking so quickly that Georgiana didn’t even take the time to collect her bonnet or parasol. “Robert,” she said, trying to catch up to him without breaking into a run, “your pace is somewhat brisk for a stroll.”
He slowed at once, allowing her to draw even, but his jaw was clenched so hard she didn’t think he could have spoken even if he’d wanted to. Well, if there was one skill she’d learned from the duchess, it was how to talk about nothing until the other person felt comfortable enough to speak in turn.
“I meant to tell Edward last night,” she began, “that he should sign and date all of his drawings. When he looks back on them later, they’ll have more value to him if he knows when he drew them.”
“I have trouble remembering things myself, sometimes,” he said in his low, quiet voice.
Success. “So do I, though it depends on what it is,” she returned, after giving him a moment to continue if he chose to. “I’m good with faces, but as for what happened where and who said what, my mind has more holes in it than a yard of lace.”
“I doubt that, but thank you for saying it.” He took a breath, letting it out in a sigh. “Did I ever ask you to marry me?”
“No. You were one of the few who didn’t.”
“I was an idiot.”
She chuckled, though a breath of uneasiness went through her. Being involved with his brother was difficult enough, and she didn’t want to hurt him. “You were—and are—refreshingly independent.”
“So independent I can’t make myself leave the house, most days.”
“You’re here today.”
What might have been a smile touched his mouth. “You like Dare today. I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk with me, tomorrow.”
“I would always talk with you, Robert. No matter what might happen between Tristan and myself.”
He nodded. “Good. And you can always talk to me. I’m told I’m a good listener.” Bit glanced at her sideways from beneath long black eyelashes, as though to make certain she understood that he was teasing.
“You haven’t lost your sense of humor, I see.”
“Not entirely.”
They had reached the east edge of Hyde Park, teeming with riders and coaches in the late morning. Though he didn’t say anything about it, she could sense that he was growing more and more uneasy at the sight of the crowds. “Have you ever had a pastry at Johnston’s?” she asked.
“No.”
“I’ll buy you one, then.” Georgiana headed south, angling away from the park.
“No. I need to go.” A muscle in his cheek jumped, his stance equal parts wary and angry—at himself, she thought. The Carroways were proud men, and he had to hate that she could see his distress.
They turned back along Regent Street, walking side by side in silence, Josephine trailing behind them. She wanted to ask Bit if there was a particular reason he’d decided to come by today, or if he had some specific thing he wanted to tell her. Yet she didn’t want to drive him away or make him uncomfortable enough that he wouldn’t want to return.
Once they reached Hawthorne House, she had a groom bring Robert’s horse back around. “I am glad you came by,” she said. “And I’m serious; anytime you feel like chatting, I will be available.”
His deep blue eyes held hers for a long moment, leaving her with the unsettling feeling that he could read her thoughts. “You’re the only one who doesn’t make me feel like Pinch,” he finally said.
She frowned. “‘Pinch?’”
“You know, from The Comedy of Errors. ‘They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-faced villain, A mere anatomy, a mountebank, A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller, A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch; A living-dead man.’”
The quote, and the deep, flat tone of his voice unsettled her. “For someone who says he has trouble remembering things, you recalled that quite well.”
The faint almost-smile touched his mouth again, then vanished in a shudder. “I spent seven months in a French prison. I memorized that play; an old playbook was the only thing we had to read. We were…encouraged to remain silent. At all times.”
He backed away. “There is…nothing worse. Don’t let yourself be trapped, Georgiana, whether it means being with Tristan or not being with him. Don’t give in because it’s easier. If you do, there’s nothing left. That’s what I came to tell you.” He swung up on his horse and clattered down the drive.
Disquieted, Georgiana sat down on the front steps. Robert didn’t say much, but when he did…“My goodness,” she whispered.
Awful as what he’d said had been, it did help clarify matters. She wouldn’t allow someone else to dictate how she lived the rest of her life. Amelia Johns had something that didn’t belong to her—and Georgiana meant to get it back.
The Johns’s butler showed Georgiana into a downstairs sitting room, where a dozen young ladies of Amelia’s age sat giggling and eating sandwiches.
Amelia rose to greet her, a smile on her pretty oval face. “Good afternoon, Lady Georgiana. I never expected to see you here.”
“Well, I needed a moment to chat with you about something, Miss Johns,” Georgiana said, feeling ill at ease. Other than Tristan, Amelia was the only person who knew what she’d done—and had the means to ruin her in Society.
Looking at her, though, with her pretty, innocent gaze and her giggling friends, Georgiana couldn’t help but think Tristan must have misinterpreted her reasons for keeping the letter and the stockings. Perhaps Amelia was merely jealous. After all, Tristan had paid attention to the girl, and he was devastatingly handsome, and Georgiana had promised her assistance. In a sense, all of this was her fault.
“Certainly we should chat,” Amelia returned, “but won’t you have some tea first?”
Georgiana forced a smile. “That would be lovely. Thank you, Miss Johns.”
“Oh, do call me Amelia. Everyone does.”
“Very well. Amelia it is.”
Her hostess faced the other girls in the room. “Everyone? I’m sure you know Lady Georgiana Halley. Her cousin is the Duke of Wycliffe.”
“Ooh. I heard that he married a governess,” one of them chirped. “Is that true?”
“Emma was the headmistress of a girls’ school,” Georgiana said. The feeling in the room seemed…odd. Hostile, almost. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked. “And cousin to a viscount,” she added, accepting a cup of tea from a footman.
“And now she is a duchess,” Amelia took up, motioning Georgiana to sit down beside her. “So nothing in her past signifies in the least.”
The look she gave Georgiana seemed full of secrets, as though she was prompting Georgie to say something in defense of a woman’s character. Beginning to feel annoyance creep in, Georgiana sipped her tea. She might be outnumbered here, but she was by no means unarmed.
Though she’d seen them at the various events of the Season, she didn’t know most of the young ladies at all well. They were daughters and nieces of barons and knights, mostly, and a granddaughter or two of a higher-ranking nobleman thrown in for good measure.
The girls began chatting again, silly things about fashion and weather, and she relaxed a little. Perhaps she was just nervous and was misreading things.
“Lady Georgiana,” Amelia said softly. “I am surprised to see you here.”
“I wanted to apologize to you,” Georgiana returned.
“Really? Whatever for?”
“For Lord Dare. My plans have gone distressingly astray, I’m afraid.”
“How so?”
After seeing the note, Amelia had to know already. If she wanted to hear another apology, though, Georgiana was willing to accommodate her. Glancing at the other girls, she said, “I think this conversation requires a bit more privacy, if you don’t mind.”
“Hm. I suppose my guests can spare me for a few minutes.” She stood, drawing Georgiana up with her. “Excuse us for just a moment, won’t you?”
The tittering and giggling didn’t diminish as Georgiana followed her hostess out of the sitting room and down the hall to a smaller room that overlooked the quiet street. “Your home is truly lovely,” she said, taking in the expensive, tasteful decorations again.
“Thank you. Now, did you really come here to apologize for your…indiscretions with Tristan? It’s not necessary, I assure you.”
Georgiana swallowed down her retort. Amelia had a right to be angry. “It is necessary, because I told you that I would help you win him as a husband, and I’ve done anything but that.”
“Nonsense. You’re the reason I will win him as a husband.”
Be polite, Georgiana reminded herself. “This has all been a terrible misunderstanding, and I feel awful about it. I only wanted to help you. You must believe that.”
“I don’t believe it for an instant,” Amelia replied, the calm smile still on her face. “But as I said, it doesn’t signify. I have set my sights on Lord Dare, and I will marry Lord Dare.”
“Through blackmail?” she bit out, before she could stop herself.
The girl shrugged. “I’m not so silly that I wouldn’t use something that came my way.”
Direct questions and indignation seemed to be netting her better results. “You stole them.”
“And how did Tristan get them, pray tell?”
Georgiana started to snap out an answer, then closed her mouth again. Yelling wouldn’t help anything. “Amelia, what happened between Tristan and me was completely unexpected, but I do not intend to let you use it to harm either of us. Surely you wouldn’t do something so…unnecessary, that would harm both your friendship with Tristan and with me.”
“We are not friends, Lady Georgiana. We are rivals. And I have won.”
“I don’t think this is a contest, Am—”
“And my actions are necessary, because Tristan already informed me that he has no intention of marrying me.” She sighed. “I suppose he still doesn’t have to do so, but what happens next will be his fault, then. I told him that you were playing a trick on him and teaching him a lesson, so he won’t want you now, anyway. Once he and I are married, I’ll give your nasty little items back to you, and we can all be happy.”
And to think Georgiana had thought her a naive, helpless young girl. For a long moment they gazed at one another, then Georgiana took her leave.
Her first instinct as she climbed into her aunt’s coach was to go tell Tristan that he’d been right, and to find out if he had come up with any sort of plan.
As she considered the problem, though, one thing kept coming to mind. She really had done all of this to herself. First she’d decided Tristan needed to be taught a lesson, and that she was the only one who could do it. Then she’d failed miserably at it, entangling her life with his all over again.
But she wanted Tristan Carroway. As Robert had said, she couldn’t simply give up and accept the future someone else left for her. They needed to talk, so she could decide whether she could ever trust him as much as her heart desperately wanted to.
Georgiana leaned out the window. “Hanley, please take me to Carroway House,” she called. “I would like to call on Miss Milly and Miss Edwina this afternoon.”
The driver nodded. “Very good, my lady.”
Chapter 21
What say you? Can you love the gentleman?
—Romeo and Juliet, Act I, Scene iii
When Tristan returned home for the afternoon break at Parliament, he went straight to his office. He knew damned well that he’d never find nine hundred quid over the next three months, but he needed enough blunt to give himself a few days of breathing space—to plan how in the world he would maneuver Georgiana into marrying him, without ruining her in the process.
“My lord?” Dawkins scratched at the office door.
“What is it?”
“I am to inform you that Lady Georgiana is here, visiting Miss Milly and Miss Edwina.”
Tristan bolted to his feet and strode to the door, slamming it open so quickly the butler nearly toppled backward. “Who told you to inform me about this visi
t?”
“Lady Georgiana did, my lord. They are in the morning room. She has been there for some time, but I don’t believe she was aware that you had returned.”
“And why didn’t you tell her I was here?”
“I was in the pantry, my lord, reviewing the larder contents.”
“You mean you were sleeping in the pantry.”
The butler snapped up straighter. “My lord, I—”
“Never mind.”
If she was here, then she’d spoken with Amelia. Part of him hoped she’d convinced the chit to give up the stockings and the letter; with nothing held over Georgiana, he could ask for her hand today. The other part of him, the part that wanted to sweep in like a medieval knight and free his damsel from the dragon, hoped that Amelia had turned her down. He’d done little enough for her that this felt like his responsibility.
“Good afternoon,” he said, strolling into the morning room.
She was seated between the aunties, all of them laughing. As she met his gaze, though, he knew that she’d been unsuccessful. Whatever she might try to tell him, her eyes never lied.
“Good afternoon,” she answered. “Your aunts have just been telling me about Dragon’s antics.”
“Yes. Thank God he’s not any larger, or he’d be tearing the house down around our ears.” He walked closer. “Aunties, may I steal Georgie for a moment?”
“Oh, I suppose so,” Milly said, chuckling. “You always steal away our prettiest visitors.”
“Really?” Georgiana murmured, as she moved past him into the hallway. “And how many pretty visitors have you stolen?”
“Just you. What happened?”
Georgiana glanced up and down the hallway. Reading her reluctance, he motioned her into the library and shut the door behind them as she sat on the couch.
“Tell me.”
“I thought you might be here when I arrived,” she said, her expression agitated. “I completely forgot about Parliament today, and I was late going to see Amelia after my stroll with Bit. She was holding a luncheon party for her friends, and I don’t know what she might have said to them, but—”
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