“Not my imagination, then.”
“Not unless we share an imagination, madam.”
She relaxed visibly. “You don’t know how much it relieves me to hear you say that. But how can this person look so much like my husband? For I am quite sure in the light of day that he is dead.”
“Maybe,” Con said, putting his hands on his hips as he looked up at her window again, “we are looking for someone who looks enough like your husband from a distance that he would cause you to mistake him for your husband.”
“Like a relative,” Georgie said with a gasp. “Of course! It must be some distant relative of Robert’s. He never spoke very fondly of his family. I think his parents were both dead, and since he died before I returned to England, there was no occasion for me to meet any of his other family members.”
“Do you know where his family hailed from at least?” Con asked. If one of Mowbray’s distant cousins had been lured into perpetrating a hoax on Georgina, then he would need to visit Mowbray’s relatives in order to find out if there was some male cousin who bore a resemblance to the man.
“I believe they hailed from Cornwall,” Georgina said with a frown. “Penrith, I think he said.”
Con nodded. He could make it to the west coast and back in a few days.
“But if it is true that one of his relations is behind this,” Georgina said thoughtfully, “how would they know where to find me? It isn’t as if I am in touch with them. And I did not make an announcement in the papers when I accepted the position with your aunt.
“And more important,” she continued, “why? It isn’t as if I am wealthy, and even if I were my late husband’s family wouldn’t stand to inherit anything.”
“Ah,” Con said with a frown. “You’re assuming that your death is what this person wants. What if their only intent is to frighten you?”
Georgie’s hands tightened around her reticule. Something else was bothering her. Something connected to this business, he was sure of it. But rather than telling him what it was, she squared her shoulders and stood up straighter.
“I had hoped we would find something that would settle this business today, but I suppose it’s not to be.”
Impressed with her strength, despite his frustration at her refusal to tell him everything, Con stepped closer. Her blue eyes were wide as she looked up at him, showing none of the fear he might expect from a woman who had endured what she had at the hands of her husband.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said softly, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. “I’ll keep you safe, Georgina. I promise.”
He looked at their joined hands, then at Georgina’s eyes. Clearly she was not quite comfortable with something as innocuous as holding hands. What sort of man would make a beauty like Georgina dread any kind of physical closeness? A dead man, his memory reminded him. A dead man he wished he’d made that way.
Con had never been a particularly violent man, but Georgina’s tale of what her husband had done to her had left him with a taste for blood.
But now was not the time, he reminded himself, focusing instead on the light sprinkling of freckles on Georgina’s nose.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you?” she asked, the fear in her voice impossible to ignore.
“I do want to,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. “But this is not the time or the place. Besides, I can wait until a time when you want to as well.”
A furrow appeared between her brows as she contemplated his words. “I don’t quite know what to say to that,” she said finally, her puzzled expression making his heart squeeze in his chest.
“You don’t need to say anything at all,” Con said with a smile. “Now, what did you have planned for this morning? Will you have someone to accompany you? I don’t want you to go anywhere alone until this person is apprehended.”
She looked as if she would like to argue, but seemed to realize it would be fruitless. “I planned to visit the lending library and then perhaps the confectioner’s. They make the most wonderful marzipan and I know that Lady Russell would like a treat. I suppose I can see if one of your cousins wishes to come along.”
Extending his arm so that she could precede him toward the French doors, Con schooled his features into a pleasant expression though he was feeling anything but.
No matter who the man following Georgina was, as far as Con was concerned he was a threat to her safety. The fact that he resembled her dead husband—a man who had brutalized her again and again—was not a coincidence, Con was sure of it. That someone—whether it was the man who followed her himself or another—was trying to terrify Georgie using the memory of Robert Mowbray indicated a degree of villainy that made the hair on the back of Con’s neck stand on end.
Whoever or whatever threatened Georgie, one thing was certain.
She was in serious danger.
Five
To Georgie’s relief, it was Clara who agreed to accompany her to the lending library and confectioner’s. She’d been half afraid that no one but Lydia would agree, and Georgie was not prepared to spend the next two hours being condescended to by a seventeen-year-old with more hair than wit.
“I’m so pleased you asked me,” Con’s cousin said with a wide smile as they stepped out into the weak afternoon sunlight. Though the day had started out warm, the clouds had begun to gather just after breakfast and now there was a cool enough breeze to make Georgie glad she’d donned her pelisse before they set out. “My aunt Russell has nothing but good things to say about you, so I’ve been longing to meet her dear companion, Georgina, who can make her so happy.”
“There is hardly any great secret to my success,” Georgie said with a laugh as they passed a group of chattering young people. “I simply treat her as I would a good friend. And she treats me the same.”
The other woman’s eyes grew round with surprise. “Is that all?” Clara asked, dumbfounded. “I confess, I thought there was something else.”
“More than anything,” Georgie explained, “when our relatives reach a certain age, they simply want to feel as if they are still relevant. As if their opinion matters. As if they haven’t suddenly become doddering old fools. So, I treat her ladyship with special care by not showing her any special care.”
“Brilliant,” Clara said, shaking her head. “Utterly brilliant.”
“Since we’re discussing Lady Russell,” Georgie said tentatively, “I wonder if you might be able to answer some questions for me.”
To her surprise and pleasure, Clara slipped her arm though Georgie’s so that they were walking side by side. “Of course, my dear. Fire away.”
“I simply wished to know why Lady Russell’s family is so reluctant to spend time with her,” Georgie said, hoping Clara wouldn’t take offense at the question. “I know it’s none of my affair really, but Lady Russell is so lonely. Especially now that her sisters live so far away in Yorkshire. She has any number of friends here in Bath, of course. Far too many to interact with on a daily basis, if you want to know the truth, but it’s her family she’s been aching to see.”
As Georgie spoke, she could feel Clara stiffen beside her, as if each word that came from Georgie’s mouth contained a bit of ice that was freezing the other woman bit by bit. “I apologize,” Georgie said when Clara didn’t respond. “Please forget I said anything. It really is none of my affair and Lady Russell is perfectly capable of taking up her own case with you all.”
“My dear,” Clara said in a low voice. “Please stop apologizing. I am not put out with you in the least. It’s just that I am trying to find the best way to say it.”
Wondering what “it” could possibly entail, Georgie waited for Clara to go on.
“First of all,” Clara said, “you must know that we all love Aunt Russell dearly and would never do anything we thought would hurt her outright.”
“But?” Georgie couldn’t help prodding.
“But,” Clara went on, coloring slightly, “the Lady Russell you know now is n
ot the same Lady Russell that most of us knew when we were younger.”
“How so?” Georgie asked. She tried to imagine the stubborn, vibrant lady she knew in any other way and failed.
“For one thing she was much less vocal,” Clara said with a sad smile. “In fact, when I was a girl I had a hard time remembering Aunt Russell was present at all during family occasions because she was so utterly soft-spoken.”
“Lady Russell?” Georgie demanded. “The same Lady Russell who nearly shouted down the house last evening because she couldn’t find her lorgnette?”
“Indeed,” Clara said. “It’s really quite extraordinary how much change she’s undergone in recent years. And none of it would have been at all possible without Con.”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t know how much you’ve been told about Uncle Walter,” Clara said, “but he was as brutish a man as has ever lived.”
Georgie might have argued with that assessment, but she held her tongue.
“My father and indeed all of the Earl of Coniston’s sons were as even tempered as they come. But Lord Russell—Aunt’s late husband—was not a kind man. He was a member of the Hellfire Club and ran in the same circles as the royal princes. And you know how ghastly they were.”
Because she knew quite well how such marriages came about, Georgie didn’t ask why her ladyship’s parents had consented to the match with Lord Russell. She knew full well what forces worked to bind innocent young ladies to wild young men. It happened every day.
“When I was a child my grandparents did what they could to curb the worst of Uncle Russell’s wildness. But he was their son-in-law, not their son, so there was little they could do.”
“What effect did this have on your aunt?” Georgie asked, her own stomach in knots as she remembered what it was like to be under the control of a man such as Clara described.
“She managed well enough. When Con’s parents were killed and Lord and Lady Russell were named guardians, it was Lady Russell who saw to it that Con was looked after. She was quiet as a mouse during any family or social gathering, but she made sure to speak her mind when it came to Con. She refused to be cowed when Uncle Russell tried to work things so that he drew more funds from the estate than was spelled out in the entail. Especially when it became known that he had spent all of the money she brought with her in her marriage portion.”
“Why on earth did Con’s parents name Lord Russell as guardian?” Georgie asked, horrified for the little boy Con had been.
“My uncle, the late earl, was quite fond of Lady Russell, his younger sister, and so was Con,” Clara said. “So, I don’t believe he considered that Lord Russell would be a part of the bargain. He was only thinking that his sister would be a good caretaker for his son and heir.”
“It sounds as if Lady Russell was much beloved by the family,” Georgie said carefully. “So why then did she end up being ignored all these years later?”
“I’m not sure how familiar you are with the workings of large families,” Clara said with a smile. “But in ours, we have a shocking tendency to place one another into very specific categories, and then, no matter how much the person has changed in personality since that original assessment, we continue to think of them in such a way.”
Thinking of the way Isabella continued to treat Perdita as a younger sister despite the fact that they were grown ladies, Georgie nodded. “I think I know what you mean.”
“Well, this is the trouble for Aunt Russell,” Clara went on. “Though her sisters still treat her as one of their own, the rest of us recall the Aunt Russell of our childhood and have some difficulty remembering that she is no longer the cowering wife hiding from her terrible husband.”
“So, what happens when your aunt does something that doesn’t fall into that mold?” Georgie asked, stepping around a puddle. “Like inviting her nieces and nephews to visit her in Bath, for instance?”
“What happens in that case is that the nieces and nephews accept her invitation but spend the entire visit marveling how out of character it was for their aunt to instigate a family gathering like that. And when we leave, we’ll all likely continue to think of Aunt Russell as the timid creature we all know and love, but with the capacity for the occasional surprise.”
“Remarkable,” Georgie said. “I’m not sure I like the idea that my character at the time of introduction will determine how I am treated for the rest of my relationship with the person I’ve just met.”
“It is trying, isn’t it?” Clara asked as they stopped before the lending library. “But I do hope you know that we all hold Aunt Russell in great affection. And no matter how out of character we might find her decision to hold this house party, we are tremendously pleased to spend this time with her.”
“I know that she would greatly appreciate knowing you feel that way, Lady Clara,” Georgie said warmly. “And I do hope that you will begin to consider her as an active member of the family, rather than a frightened little mouse of a woman. Because she is one of the strongest ladies I’ve ever known.”
“Which is why you are such a good companion to her.”
The door to the lending library was propped open so as to let some of the cool breeze of the afternoon circulate among the shelves. Pausing for a moment to examine the display in the window, Georgie and Clara stepped inside to survey the massive shelves that were arranged in row after row far into the space of the shop. It looked much larger from within the shop than it did from without. And as was her custom, Georgie began to browse the shelf that was marked new books first. Clara, who had come in hopes of finding something to read while the rest of the family played cards, headed straight for the shelves of books from Minerva Press.
In the fortnight since she’d last visited the library, the stock of histories and romances had been replenished. Among the three-volume novel, Georgie saw the latest from Lady Madeline Essex, as well as volumes of poetry by Mary Robinson and Felicia Hemans. As usual Georgie was having a difficult time choosing among them.
She was reading the description in the front of the Hemans again when she heard a voice behind her.
“Mrs. Mowbray? Mrs. Georgina Mowbray?”
Shielding her eyes from the light, Georgie tried to gain a better look at her interlocutor. The shadows within the circle of the bonnet soon resolved themselves into the features of a pretty if not elegant face. One she’d not expected to see again.
“Mary?” she asked, astonished. “Mrs. Mary Kendrick? My goodness, look at you, here in Bath of all places. What a delightful surprise. Lettice will be so pleased.”
Mrs. Kendrick had been the wife of another officer in Colonel Mowbray’s regiment. The wives of men in the same regiment often formed bonds that were as close-knit as those of their husbands. Along with Lettice Stowe, Georgina and Mary had spent many an afternoon together while their husbands were busy with army business.
“You are a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Mowbray,” Mrs. Kendrick said with a laugh. “I have wondered what became of you when the colonel died. I know when my Jem fell at Waterloo it took me a great deal of time to recover from the loss.”
The end of the war had proven to be a tumultuous time whether one had lost a husband at the final battle or not. And Georgie still could not think about those few months before she returned home with any sense of calm. She’d had no idea where she would go or how she would support herself. And she’d never thought to see her friends from the regiment again.
“It was a difficult time for all of us,” Georgie said quietly. “I didn’t realize that Captain Kendrick was lost in Belgium as well. I’m sorry for your loss, Mary.”
The other woman shrugged. “No more than I am for yours.” She looked around them, seeming to note the throngs of people who were browsing the other shelves or just chatting. “Are you free for the next hour or so?” she asked. “There is a confectioner’s near here. And I’d love to chat with you a bit more.”
“I am here with a friend,” Georgie
said, longing for a comfortable coze with Mary but knowing she couldn’t simply abandon Clara.
“Bring her along,” Mary said with a smile. “The more the merrier we always said, did we not?”
“Indeed. I’ll see whether she wishes to join us. Either way I’ll see you there within the next quarter hour.”
The two women exchanged good-byes and Georgie went off in search of Clara. When that lady said she’d prefer to return home, Georgie was somewhat relieved. She would have been happy to introduce Clara and Mary, but she remembered that Mary was rather plainspoken at times and she did not yet know Clara well enough to guess what her reaction would be.
“Do enjoy yourself,” Clara said. “I know that you’re doubtless considering how remiss in your duties to my aunt you’ll be for taking a bit of time for yourself, but please do not refine upon it. I can assure you that Aunt is enjoying herself thoroughly with her sisters this afternoon.”
Georgie squeezed the other woman’s hand. “You are a dear, Clara,” she said with a smile. “And please tell your aunt, or…” She paused, unsure whether she should mention Con’s name or not. “Please tell your aunt I shan’t be overlong.”
Clara’s lips twitched. “I shall tell my aunt and Con that you’ll be back soon.”
Georgie blushed, but didn’t argue. Some people were just too observant for their own good.
* * *
Georgie found Mrs. Kendrick waiting for her near the entrance to Pilbury’s Confectioner’s Shop, which boasted some of the best candies in Bath. With a bow window that looked out over Milsom Street, it was one of the most popular meeting places in Bath outside of the Pump Room.
Once they’d gone inside and found a table, their orders of tea and cakes placed with the serving girl, the two women spent a moment chatting about their current situations. By the time their orders arrived, they were laughing and talking as if they’d never been separated.
“I was so pleased to see you here,” Mrs. Kendrick said with genuine feeling as she reached out to squeeze Georgie’s hand. “I was so disappointed to find you’d left Belgium without leaving your direction.”
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