A Gentleman For All Seasons

by Shana Galen, Vanessa Kelly, Kate Noble, Theresa Romain

“I do,” he said just as softly. “But a religious vocation was what she wanted, and she is happy.”

  Georgie had to clear her throat. “Well, you are obviously a splendid brother. She is very lucky to have you.”

  He looked a trifle embarrassed. “I believe you’re close to your brother, are you not?”

  She cast a glance at Bertie, still deep in conversation with Will. As if he sensed her gaze, he glanced over. His eyes narrowed slightly on her and Mr. Haddon, as if sizing up the situation, but then he gave her a smile and a wink.

  “I think I have my answer,” Mr. Haddon said.

  “Bertie’s the most wonderful brother. Unfortunately, he’s also a bit of a mother hen when it comes to protecting me. He can be a tad dictatorial over it, I’m afraid.” She wrinkled her nose to make sure Mr. Haddon knew she was jesting.

  He nodded. “We brothers can be tiresomely over-protective. I ordered my sister around, too. Barely gave the poor girl a chance to think for herself, I’m sorry to say.”

  “Now you have cast all my hopes down to the ground, after I was quite ready to put you up on a pedestal. The perfect brother and a handsome and dashing Highlander to boot. I’m crushed.”

  When he flushed under his tan, Georgie realized she’d put her foot squarely in it again. It was what came of never having the chance to socialize with young men. One generally acted like an idiot when finally given the opportunity.

  After an awkward pause, Mr. Haddon manfully forged on. “I expect your brother is still worried about you after your illness. Although you do look perfectly fit to me.”

  She gave him a grateful smile for so adroitly managing the conversation. For someone who ostensibly had no more social skills than she did, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. “I’m perfectly well, although you’d never know it from Bertie.”

  “I expect it’s partly because he’s a good deal older than you. He feels responsible.”

  “That’s true. It’s been just the two of us for a long time. Or, at least it was until he married Eliza. Which was wonderful,” she hastened to add.

  “Perhaps he’ll stop hovering about you so much now that he has a wife to worry about.”

  “Not so far,” she said wryly.

  He laughed. Georgie couldn’t help noticing that it was a very appealing laugh—deep and surprisingly full of good humor.

  “Families can be quite vexing that way,” he said.

  “Not yours, surely. Besides, you’re a man. You can do what you want.”

  “Believe me when I tell you that such is not the case. In fact, my trip to London was the result of my uncle ordering me south for much of the winter. It was not my choice.”

  “So that explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Why you looked like you wanted to murder us all when you came into the room. I thought Rob Roy might pop up behind you and declare war on the English.”

  He looked torn between amusement and dismay. “I’ll be sure to warn you when the clan is on the march. Again, my apologies. I didn’t think I was so obvious.”

  She waved a hand. “It’s fine. I wasn’t offended. Much.”

  He grinned. “For someone who claims to be socially unskilled, that was nicely done.”

  “Thank you. Do you mind if I ask why your uncle insisted you take a holiday?”

  “I’m supposed to be recuperating from illness too.” His mouth twisted, as if he’d just bit into a lemon.

  “Were you very ill?”

  “It was only a bad cold, but my blasted family claimed it was evidence that I was working too hard.”

  She eyed him. “To steal your phrase, you look perfectly fit to me, if a tad thin. Then again, I’m thin as well. Too thin, according to everyone in Kent.”

  His gaze flickered over her with what certainly seemed like masculine interest. It was so surprising that Georgie forgot to blush.

  “You look just as you should, in my opinion,” he said. “But I’ll wager everyone harps on you about eating more.”

  “Yes,” she said, drawing out the word on a disgusted note. “Constantly.”

  “I understand your dismay. Lady Reese practically chases me about the room with gigantic platters of scones and mounds of clotted cream and jam. It’s like something out of a nightmare.”

  “Bertie practically shoves food down my throat too,” Georgie said, “and Mrs. Clotworthy insists on beef broth and pork jelly. Pork. Jelly.”

  When he burst into laughter, she couldn’t help but join in. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such an enjoyable conversation. Then Georgie caught sight of her brother, staring at her with an arrested expression on his face. It looked as if something had just surprised him, and not in a good way.

  “Well, I suppose our families can’t help it,” Mr. Haddon said when he’d stopped laughing. “They’re blinded by affection.”

  “And by guilt. My brother seems to believe that every bad thing that happened to me was somehow his fault. So, if he lets me out of his sight for a moment, something worse is likely to happen.”

  He was about to reply when the drawing room door opened to admit Florian. He gave a solemn bow.

  “The dinner, it is ready,” he announced.

  “Good Lord,” Mr. Haddon said. “Your butler is quite extraordinary. I don’t think I’ve ever heard dinner announced with such…”

  “Panache?” Georgie said.

  The slow curve of his smile charmed her right down to her toes. She hoped he’d smile more often, because it was one of the nicest she’d ever seen.

  “That was exactly the word I was looking for.” He rose and extended a hand to help her up.

  As they went to join the rest of the family, Georgie was struck with a thought. “Mr. Haddon, do you like to ride?”

  “Of course. I spend hours in the saddle every day.”

  It was rather forward of her, but what did she have to lose? All he could do was say no. “And do you like having company when you go out riding?”

  He studied her for a moment, and then his mouth curled up again. This smile was positively delicious, as if they were about to share a wonderful secret.

  “As a matter of fact, Miss Gage, I do.”

  Chapter Four

  * * *

  Georgie’s rather fierce scowl was unusual enough for Fergus to take note. She was glaring around the Tunbridge Wells assembly rooms as if ready to challenge anyone who had the nerve to wish her a good day.

  He’d been taking a good deal of notice of Georgie Gage in the last week or so, although he tried not to be too obvious about it. She was the only bright spot in an otherwise dim prospect. Fergus invariably found himself seeking her company, whether for a walk into Hemshawe, a ride around the estate, or even just a quiet conversation by the fire after dinner.

  Not that they actually had the chance to engage in many outings away from the Friar’s House. Bertie and Mrs. Clotworthy relaxed a tad when Fergus was along to escort Georgie on rides or walks into the village. But if there was even the slightest bit of wind, or a cloud in the sky, they did everything they could to persuade her to stay indoors.

  Fergus still couldn’t understand why Georgie didn’t tell her brother to go hang himself. She was a sensible young woman perfectly capable of looking after herself. That she didn’t snap her brother’s well-intentioned nose off on a regular basis was a testament to her incredibly kind and cheerful nature. Aye, Georgie was a bonny lass, and he was beginning to enjoy her company a great deal more than he ought.

  She certainly wasn’t in a good mood this morning, though. In fact, she’d just narrowed her pretty eyes at two young ladies who’d strolled past their chairs for the third time this last half hour.

  Perhaps she was simply bored. After all, there was nothing to do in Tunbridge Wells except choke back the foul tasting water, stroll along the Upper Walk, and gossip and drink endless cups of tea before strolling past the shops once again—and that much was only possible if the weather cooperated.
Had it not been for the considerable pleasure of Georgie’s company, Fergus would have been bored out of his skull by the place.

  Georgie muttered something under her breath that sounded remarkably like an oath.

  “Is everything all right, Miss Gage? Do you want me to nip out and get you another glass of mineral water?”

  “Ugh, not you, too,” she said. “I can’t stand the blasted stuff, and Mrs. Clotworthy insists that I drink at least two glasses every time we come to the spa. It smells like a moldy old cellar and tastes even worse.”

  Fergus was in whole-hearted agreement. “Then perhaps a cup of tea? I’d be happy to fetch one.”

  She shot him an irritated look. “You don’t have to treat me like a feeble old lady, you know, even though I must look like one at the moment.”

  He eyed the heavy wool shawl swaddled around her shoulders. “That does seem a bit much. It’s not exactly drafty in here.”

  The assembly rooms were packed, and the atmosphere was close. Fergus had been forced to evict a group of lounging dandies to secure seats for the ladies. A few sharp words from Lady Reese had helped. Even the rudest of dandies couldn’t hold his starch under her withering scorn.

  “I’m broiling,” Georgie said. “It’s like the tropics in this confounded room. All we need are some pineapples and palm trees to complete the effect.”

  When Fergus laughed, she cut him a reluctant grin. “I’m sorry for acting like an old grump. I have no business snapping your nose off.”

  “You didn’t. And I agree with you. I’m wilting around the edges, like a tired piece of lettuce.”

  “Nonsense,” she said. “You’re looking as fresh as a daisy. Whereas I am resigned to the fact that my face is as shiny and red as an apple.”

  “No one’s ever compared me to a daisy before. I’m not sure how to take that.”

  “Take it as a compliment.” She leaned around him and glanced at her chaperone, seated a few chairs away and talking to Eliza. “I really must take this shawl off or I’ll expire on the spot.”

  “That would certainly shock the ladies. Here, let me help you.” Fergus took the voluminous piece of wool and folded it up, draping it over the back of her chair.

  Georgie gave him a grateful smile. “That’s so much better. Thank you.”

  He frowned at how flushed she looked, almost as if she were feverish. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  The fierce little scowl returned. “I’m fine. I told you. I’m simply hot.”

  “Why the devil didn’t you take the confounded thing off before?” he asked with some asperity.

  “You know exactly why. Mrs. Clotworthy would kick up a fuss and lecture me about catching cold. Most times it’s not worth the aggravation.”

  Fergus understood about interfering families, but he’d learned to assert himself. Of course, it was easier for men to do so than for young ladies. Georgie had a very accommodating temperament and wished everyone to be happy. She always did whatever she could to achieve that—at times to her own detriment.

  “I’ll speak to Mrs. Clotworthy,” he said. “One doesn’t wish to catch a chill, but it’s also not healthy to become overheated.”

  Her lips twitched up. She had a wonderful mouth—full and pink and very prone to smiling. One of his favorite activities these days was looking at it.

  “I’m being horrid again, aren’t I?” she said. “I apologize. I’m not normally so out of sorts. It’s just that—” She broke off.

  When Fergus followed her gaze, he saw the same young ladies who’d strolled by only a few minutes ago.

  “Good Lord,” she said with an adorable little growl. “They’re back again. For the fourth time.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Miss Peterson and Miss Rogers, the biggest flirts in Tunbridge Wells. They’re awfully persistent.”

  When Fergus gave the fashionably dressed young ladies a brief inspection, it seemed to set off a round of giggles and flutterings that struck him as ridiculous.

  “Persistent about what?” he asked.

  Georgie gave him an incredulous look. “You really don’t know?”

  He lifted his brows in silent enquiry.

  She laughed. “Then I have no intention of explaining it to you.”

  Though Fergus normally couldn’t be bothered to analyze the mystifying social interactions of young ladies, Georgie’s mischievous smile filled him with curiosity. Unfortunately, before he could quiz her about it, Lady Reese heaved into view. The bloody woman simply refused to leave him alone. Sighing, he rose to his feet as she approached.

  “Fergus, you’ve been monopolizing Miss Gage for long enough,” her ladyship said. “People are beginning to remark upon it.”

  He mentally winced. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass Georgie. She, however, seemed to perk up at the notion.

  “Really?” Georgie said. “How very naughty of them. I suppose you wouldn’t care to share what they’re saying, would you?”

  “I most certainly would not,” Lady Reese said. “Now, Fergus, you’re hiding again. You need to make an effort to meet new people. After all, that’s what this holiday is supposed to be about.”

  By people, Lady Reese meant eligible young ladies.

  Fergus mustered an innocent expression. “Perhaps I’m simply hiding away from you.”

  Georgie made a choking sound that she quickly tried to turn into a cough.

  Lady Reese peered at her with concern. “Miss Gage, are you sure you’re well? You’re looking quite flushed.”

  Now that the shawl from hell had been disposed of, Georgie no longer looked like she’d been lounging in an oven. Her creamy skin now had a pink blush that matched her mouth, and her toffee-brown eyes sparkled with amusement. Fergus couldn’t help thinking that she looked like a toothsome French pastry that had spent exactly the right amount of time baking.

  Though he was not a man given to poetic flourishes, or even similes of the culinary kind, spending time around Georgie Gage was having a rather marked effect on him. It was one that would make him cautious, if he had any sense.

  He found himself hoping he’d left his common sense back in Scotland.

  “I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you for your concern,” Georgie said. “It’s just rather hot in here, that’s all.”

  “The heat in this dreadful room is simply scandalous,” Lady Reese said. “Tunbridge Wells is not what it used to be, I’m sorry to say. But I’m glad you took off that ridiculous shawl. You looked like you were roasting alive, as I made a point of telling Mrs. Clotworthy.”

  Georgie’s answering smile was so sweetly grateful that it made something dislodge and bump around in Fergus’ chest. It was an alarming feeling, and he was tempted to poke around his ribcage to see if he could get whatever it was back in place.

  Better be careful, old boy. It wouldn ’t do to go falling in love with a girl like Georgie Gage.

  Or any girl, for that matter.

  “Thank you, Lady Reese,” Georgie said. “That was most kind of you.”

  “May I give you a word of advice, my dear?” her ladyship asked.

  Naturally, Lady Reese didn’t wait for an answer one way or another. She was the kind of woman who couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting her advice. “You must learn to assert yourself more with your relations. If you’re not careful, they will smother you into permanent spinsterhood.”

  “Ah, perhaps I should excuse myself and let you ladies talk,” Fergus said.

  “Nonsense,” her ladyship rapped out. “Given your unusual family history, it’s impossible for you to be embarrassed by this type of discussion.”

  Lady Reese had a point. She often did—more often than he’d care to admit. “Fair enough,” he said.

  “It’s very kind of you to take an interest, ma’am,” Georgie said. “But my brother and Mrs. Clotworthy mean well. I would hate to upset them by appearing ungrateful.”

  “Of course they mean well, but that doesn’t mean they know
well. You must learn to stand up for yourself, even if it means challenging your loved ones.”

  “Like you encourage your daughters to challenge you, Lady Reese?” Fergus asked.

  “Naturally. I’ve always encouraged my girls to be independent thinkers.”

  That was a plumper, but he let it pass. In Georgie’s case, the old girl had a point.

  Fortunately, Georgie didn’t seem to be embarrassed by the frank discussion. “Thank you, my lady. I quite think I agree with you.”

  “Of course you do,” Lady Reese said. “Fergus, there’s a young lady I’d like you to meet. Miss Rogers. Her mother is a friend of mine, and she expressly asked me to introduce you to Selena, who is a charming girl. Miss Gage can sit with Mrs. Clotworthy or take a stroll around the room with Evelyn.”

  Not bloody likely.

  Fergus shook his head. “Unfortunately, ma’am, I just promised Miss Gage that I would take her for a stroll around the room. You’ll have to make my excuses to Mrs. Rogers and her daughter.”

  “But—”

  Fergus turned his back on Lady Reese and extended his hand to Georgie. “Are you ready, Miss Gage? I do believe the quartet is tuning up as well. Perhaps we can head over and have a listen.”

  Her eyes sparkled at him, and she had the most charming dimple on the right side of her lush mouth. Oddly, he seemed to be noticing more things about her every day. He was tempted to pull out his pocket notebook and begin a list of all the things he liked about her.

  It would be a long list.

  Georgie took his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Haddon. It would be very refreshing to stroll.”

  Fergus settled her slim hand on his arm, then gave Lady Reese a little nod. “Excuse us, madam.”

  Her ladyship’s nose twitched, but she didn’t say anything.

  “That was masterful of you,” Georgie said once they were out of range.

  Fergus glanced over his shoulder. The viscountess stood in the same place, regarding them with a speculative look. “Thank you for going along with my ruse. The idea of meeting the persistent Miss Rogers made me feel faint with horror.”

  She laughed. “I was happy to be of service, sir.”