“Georgiana, with the benefit of a good night’s sleep, have you thought any more about your future husband?”
“Not really. It’s just so difficult. I feel like that queen in the Greek legends who was surrounded by suitors who pressed her, every day, for an answer. I can’t just close my eyes and pick one at random.”
“Queen Penelope, the faithful wife of Ulysses. That’s who you’re referring to, isn’t it? See, I know something of the classics too!” They laughed. “She waited twenty years for her husband to return, Georgie, my dear. But you only have a few weeks to make up your mind.”
They walked a little further in silence, each young woman lost in her private thoughts and, as they turned a corner marked by a row of perfectly clipped decorative bushes, they almost bumped into the Duke. He was not alone. At his side stood the imposing figure of the Marquess of Dartworth. The Duke doffed his elegant hat, stepped forward and placed a chaste kiss upon his future wife’s cheek and then turned and bent to kiss Georgiana’s hand. Oliver bowed formally to both Ladies.
After a moment, the Duke exclaimed “My dear, it is most fortunate that we have met here, for I have just recalled that I have a number of pressing issues to discuss with you concerning the wedding. With this many guests in the house, I would like to seize this chance for quiet conversation whilst I may.”
The Duke turned to Oliver and nodded. “Pray excuse us whilst we attend to these important matters, Dartworth. May I take my leave of you, and trust you to take care of Lady Georgiana in my absence? I will send one of the maids to follow you at a distance, for proprieties sake.”
Oliver bowed to the Duke and tried to conceal a smile that almost threatened to break into open laughter.
“Certainly, you may, Your Grace.”
Philip and his future wife walked at a leisurely pace, arm in arm, back towards the great house. Oliver was still smiling.
“Well, my Lady, I hope that you are appreciative of the dramatic arts, for I fear we have just witnessed an extraordinary act of theatre.”
Georgiana raised a hand to her mouth as she laughed out loud.
“’Tis true, my Lord, that I am an admirer of the arts, but I confess that I have seen much better performances in my time.”
They both laughed at the contrived meeting.
“I daresay my good sister had a hand in this charade, for we have been well and truly forced upon one another, and I would pray that my presence is not a burden upon your good nature, my Lord.”
“My name is Oliver, my Lady, and I would count it an honour if you would address me by that name. I have become accustomed to life with less formality.”
Georgiana smiled.
“I am Georgiana and, as we have been officially introduced, I am quite amenable to dispensing with some of the formalities.”
Oliver bowed in an exaggerated impersonation of a courtier sweeping his hat low before his queen.
“Your devoted servant, my Lady.”
Georgiana couldn’t stop herself from laughing out loud.
“Why sir, though a Marquess, I do declare that you have something of the circus in your veins!”
“I fear there are clowns enough in this great house without my adding to the company of fools.”
“Oliver, would you care to walk with me? I see Mary hovering on the path, and I am certain that she will ensure that we are properly chaperoned, without intruding upon our privacy.”
“The pleasure would be mine, Georgiana.”
They adopted a formal distance between them the hand resting lightly on his arm, their manner all that propriety could require, and, taking this opportunity to converse in private, they found that they could talk quite freely. For each of them, there was an instant sense of comfort with the other, as if they had known each other for years, rather than having only just met.
“Oliver, may I ask you a question?”
The Marquess nodded his assent with a ready smile, and it was perfectly obvious that he was enjoying Georgiana’s company far more than she had originally expected he would, given the way that she had been foisted upon him by her sister and the Duke.
“When first I saw you yesterday evening, seated with pen and paper in the drawing room, I addressed you and you completely ignored me. Pray tell me, why was that?”
Oliver stopped for a moment and turned towards her.
“I can only offer you my most humble apologies, Lady Georgiana. I have no excuse for my rudeness, but I was struggling with a most vexing correspondence and a delicate matter that I have found most troubling.”
Georgiana paused in the hope that he would speak further. When he was silent, she felt compelled to reassure him.
“Oliver, I assure you that you could tell me anything, and feel secure in the knowledge that I would always honour your confidence, and never repeat a word to another soul.”
The young Marquess pursed his lips, his blue eyes darkening as if storm clouds passed across the sky, and considered Georgiana’s words. After a minute’s pause, he breathed out heavily in a long sigh, and seemed to have come to a conclusion.
“You have probably already heard much about my circumstances. The rumours have been a popular enough subject for idle salon gossip.” He paused, then went on with a sad sigh. “The fact is that my late father squandered the family fortune, and all he has left to me is his title, the barely maintained entailed properties, and a slew of gambling debts. I have paid many of them, but the amount was astounding - five thousand pounds of debt yet remains. The creditors would have all the remaining goods that could be sold, and leave me quite penniless in an empty, crumbling house.”
Georgiana said nothing as she absorbed the news, although Oliver had quite openly mentioned his circumstances during dinner, he had not, then gone into detail of just how poor a state his father had left the Marquessate in. They walked further in silence until Georgiana spoke again.
“Oliver, I have not, actually, heard the rumours – I have not been about in society much at all, since my father’s death six months ago. I am truly sorry for your troubles. It is not right that a son should pay for his father’s folly.”
“You are most kind to say so, and you may well be right, but the law would happily leave me penniless. I have been writing to my father’s creditors to seek a better answer to his debts. All they want is their coin and they would sell my possessions tomorrow if they could, to cover the debts. It is a most troubling situation.”
He turned to face her once more. “So, I am hardly a good candidate as a husband.” He lowered his eyes, unwilling to look at her. “In fact, the only reason that I have been invited here is that my father raised enough capital just before he died to pay a wager that he owed to the Duke. In appreciation of his effort, and honourable action in doing so, the Duke promised my father that he would find me a bride. He has made a token gesture by inviting me here, but he surely does not intend to support me in any suit I may press for your hand.” He sighed again. “I can only guess that you must be relieved to know that.”
Georgiana reached for Oliver’s hand, instinctively wanting to comfort him.
“Do not say that, my Lord.”
Her touch surprised him, and he looked up into her beautiful blue green eyes and saw only compassion and generosity. And perhaps something more. Or perhaps he was foolishly deluding himself – why would she do more than extend a bare minimum of kindness?
“But I must. I am the most hopeless suitor to attend this house party. I am mocked by the others for my clothing, although I could not care less what they think. Yet I must confess that I would prefer to be a wealthier man, if it would improve my esteem in your eyes.”
“You do not need wealth to be a good man, Oliver. And the popinjays who preen and strut about Philip’s house are only interested in my lands and dowry, and their pockets. They have no other interest in me. It is most distressing to be compelled to choose a husband from amongst the ranks of such shallow and spineless creatures.”
�
��It seems that Fate has been unkind to us, Georgiana. I would never wish you to think that I saw you only as a source of wealth – I am not that shallow! I may need money more than all of them do, yet I care only for the fact that you are a most interesting and caring person. My circumstances conspire to prevent me from asking for your hand and, even if I did ask, the Duke would reject my offer in favour of another.”
“Do you think I would say ‘No’, Oliver?”
“I would not dare to hope for anything else.”
“Yet I took you for a braver man than that.”
Silence fell between them, as they walked slowly around the ornamental gardens, the flowers still dormant from the touch of winter and waiting for the growing warmth of springtime to release them from their bondage, the faintest green shoots and leaf buds just becoming visible on the trees. The moment was peaceful, and remarkably pleasant, despite the serious tone of their discussion.
“Oliver, these manoeuvrings from the Duke and his circle of friends are not to my liking. It is like a game of chess where the rules of play are ignored and the outcome is already decided before the first piece is moved.”
“That is a perfect description of the situation. Your wishes will not be observed or respected, and your dowry and lands will probably go to the highest bidder, so to speak, or to the man most favoured by the Duke. They will always say that it is in your best interests, but it is only about the value of your estate. And that pains me.”
“And why, my Lord, does that pain you?”
“Because there is not an ounce of love or joy or respect in these grubby commercial dealings and I believe that a Lady of your character deserves far better than that.”
Once again, the young Marquess had managed to take Georgiana’s breath quite away.
“You are too kind, Oliver. But then, pray tell me who I should marry.”
“You should be free to choose for yourself, if and when you are truly ready, and not sold off by this forced bloodstock auction that turns my stomach.”
“And of the assembled nobles who compete for my hand and my lands, which of them would you favour as my future husband?”
He looked at her and there was a moment when she thought her heart had entirely stopped beating. Her cheeks flushed, and the pale sun was suddenly overly warm.
Her breath came fast and she found herself staring helplessly at his full sensual lips, waiting for the words that would fall from them.
“Why, Georgiana, is the answer not entirely obvious to you?”
“Speak the words, Oliver, and let me understand if my intuition is better schooled than my dancing or musical skills.”
“I would nominate myself, if I had the means to support you in the style to which you are accustomed, and which you deserve, dearest Lady Georgiana.”
Georgiana drew in a sharp breath, and it seemed as if the birds had stopped singing in the trees whilst time stood completely still.
“But I cannot fulfil my wish, because I am a penniless near vagrant and I am sure that the Duke has already chosen a suitable husband for you. I can only wish that he will make you as happy as I would want to.”
A deep, sonorous bell was being rung somewhere inside the house to announce luncheon and, startled at how much time had passed as they walked and spoke, the couple stopped for a moment. Oliver dragged his eyes away from Georgiana, unwillingly, schooling his expression to one of neutral politeness as they turned together to follow the winding pathway that led back to the grand entrance. Servants were already carrying plates of hot food from the kitchen and pouring wine from silver jugs. A fire had been lit in the enormous hearth to keep the room warm and the guests were arriving in twos and threes from their card games and amusements.
As Georgiana took her place at the Duke’s side, she was not looking forward to her luncheon. She seemed to have lost her appetite. Her sister smiled at her and Georgiana understood that the meeting with Oliver had been contrived purely to emphasise how unsuitable the young Marquess would be as a suitor.
Whether the ploy had worked was not certain, for Georgiana felt something in her heart that she had never felt before. She suspected that Cordelia would be horrified to discover that, perhaps, the ploy had created quite the opposite effect from that intended.
For, whilst she couldn’t be absolutely certain, Georgiana feared that she was feeling the first stirrings of a deep and powerful attraction that threatened to overwhelm her. She liked Oliver. She liked his honesty, his plain speaking, the fact that he seemed to actually see her as an independent person, capable of thinking for herself. She felt strange in his presence – but in a good way. She found that she wanted to spend more time in his company, not less. She glanced up at where he sat, so far off down the table, his face a picture of artificial calm, and wanted to cry. She was not a girl who cried easily, or often – so this was a truly odd experience.
She raised a lace napkin to her mouth but used the embroidered corner to dab away a small tear that had appeared at the corner of her eye. She did not know why, but in the midst of the feasting and merrymaking, the joyful approach of Cordelia and Philip’s wedding, she felt, in that instant, ready to sob her heart out. As soon as possible, she excused herself from the table, and took herself to her room.
The evenings drew in quickly as the last frosts of winter faded before the first hints of spring. The great house was illuminated by rows and rows of flickering candles and servants hurried to make sure that all of the rooms were well lit by a forest of glowing flames. Fires were prepared and the warmth of crackling logs spilled a welcome heat into the great halls and salons of the beautifully appointed stately mansion.
Two weeks had passed since their arrival, and Georgiana found each day harder than the one before. As Cordelia’s happiness grew, so did Georgiana’s misery. The more she saw of the young men that were supposed to be suitable choices as potential husbands, the more revolted she felt. They were all so shallow, so sure in their opinions and their place in the world, with little care for anyone else. They looked at her with greedy eyes, and she felt, even more, like a broodmare at a livestock auction – assessed for her fineness of form but with no attention paid to her character at all.
She had found little opportunity to talk to Oliver – since the staged meeting, the Duke and Cordelia had made sure that she was forced to strictly observe propriety, and Cordelia or Miss Millpost went with her everywhere. They were left with inane snippets of conversation in the drawing room, surrounded by other guests, and moments when their eyes met, and spoke in silence of the sadness they shared.
As the day of Cordelia’s wedding approached, more guests arrived – to stay in the house, and to stay at the Inn in the nearby village. Every night, dinner was attended by a much larger gathering of guests than the night before. An extension had been added to the dining table to accommodate more visitors and by eight o’clock the assembled gentry had been suitably refreshed with glasses of dry sherry and sweet madeira.
There were more couples in the house and some of the young bachelors were greeted by their doting parents, who were curious to see if their precious boy was going to be successful and marry into a valuable estate. Georgiana shook her head in disbelief. It was beginning to resemble a cattle auction and she recognised that she was widely regarded as the prize milk cow on offer to the highest bidder.
One particular evening, as the wine flowed and the sumptuous dishes were served, the conversation turned once more to the Marquess of Dartworth’s unusual political opinions, and soon the table was dominated by the shouts of outraged parents who saw the young man as a threat to the good order of society. As the official centre of the table’s attention, Georgiana, the landed potential bride-in-waiting, was soon consulted on her views. Cordelia groaned quietly and shot a warning glance at her headstrong and independent sister.
“I can only argue from the perspective of reason and logic and I am therefore compelled to agree with the Marquess of Dartworth’s assertion that the practice o
f democracy has achieved extraordinary freedom and prosperity for the citizens of the former Colonies.”
There were gasps of outrage and the wizened Duke of Belvoir muttered “But you’re only a slip of a girl, for Heaven’s sake. What on earth could you possibly know of reason and logic, eh? These are matters that only a man’s mind might grasp!”
Georgiana bowed in deference to the aged man’s title and replied.
“Your Grace, I beg your forgiveness for confounding the laws of nature and revealing a modest grasp of reason. I did not intend to shock you. I hope you will not be further troubled by any other displays of what I had assumed was nothing more than plain common sense.”
The old Duke stuttered and fumbled for a reply but had to satisfy himself with an irritated shake of the head and a deep draught of spiced wine that completely failed to improve his mood. He continued to mumble to himself.
“Girls and reason? Logic? Stuff and nonsense, I tell you. Stuff and nonsense!”
It was clear to everyone that, although Georgiana may have an attractive inheritance to bring to her wedding, she was sadly lacking in the poise, good manners and sense of place that was expected of a woman of the ton. The qualities which would make her a good and obedient wife appeared to be lamentably absent.
Cordelia was only too aware of the subdued muttering that was running around the table. Some of the older guests were openly staring at her sister, gaping at her in wonder as if she were an exhibit in a zoo or a freak in a travelling circus. The evening was not going as planned. Cordelia was praying that her sister’s headstrong behaviour had not deterred some of the wealthier candidates from pursuing their chances of matrimony. A valuable estate was one thing. A headstrong and independent wife was an abomination in the minds of many of the assembled guests.
Redeeming the Marquess: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 6) Page 5
