“You see now why I was so unhappy with you for chasing after the fellow from the garden on your own,” Con said. “What if this had been you, Georgina?” he demanded, his voice fierce with anger. “Do you know what it would have done to me if I’d found your body here instead of his? Your face battered like that?”
This time when his lips descended upon hers, it was a kiss of possession. With every touch he told her with his mouth that she was his. She had known that he wanted her, and even that he worried for her, but this kiss told her what the cost to him would be if something should happen to her—something more than simple danger, something like death.
Sometime over the course of the past few days, things had shifted between them. It was no longer possible for her to simply shove him away and tell him to mind his own business. For better or worse, Con had a stake in what became of her. Thinking what her own reaction would be if their positions were reversed, she knew without question that she would be inconsolable if it were Con lying dead on the roof of the theater.
But for now, she could only rejoice at the feeling of his body—very much alive—pressed against hers, as he kissed her.
Finally, perhaps still aware of the killer who might lurk in the shadows, he pulled back. “Please, Georgina. Do not put yourself in danger like this again.”
Unable to speak, she reached out and touched his cheek, and nodded.
“We have to get out of here,” he said, his hand on the small of her back as he led her into the hallway from the stairwell. “I’ll send one of the ushers to let Clara know that you were feeling ill so I escorted you home. Then I’ll send my man to alert the authorities once we get back to Henrietta Street. If they wish to speak to us about the matter, they can do so there tomorrow.”
“But what about Robert’s look-alike?” Georgie asked, for the first time worrying that the man might wish to do more than simply frighten her. The notion chilled her and she gave an involuntary shiver again. When Con’s arm slipped around her as they descended the stairs, she was grateful. “If he is responsible for what happened to the man on the roof, then there must be something more to his game than intimidation.”
“I’ll consider the matter tonight and hopefully by morning will have arrived at some plan, whether it means confiding his actions to the authorities or striking out on our own. Either way,” he continued, his hand absently caressing her bare arm, “I won’t let you come to harm, you may be assured of it.”
For the first time in a long while, Georgie felt protected and even, to her bemusement, cherished in some way that was as unfamiliar to her as an Indian monsoon.
Grateful for his reassurances, she allowed Con to escort her down the stairs and into the theater below.
Nine
Georgie spent a restless night in which she found herself dropping off to sleep only to be jolted awake by the memory of the dead young man on the roof of the theater. As a result, the face she saw in the dressing table mirror was wan with dark circles beneath the eyes. And though she tried to maintain a level of calm, she could not prevent the young man’s death from casting a pall over her day.
Then there were the multiple kisses from Con yesterday to consider.
Hoping to avoid her worries, Georgie decided that she’d neglected her employer enough this week and made her way to Lady Russell’s bedchamber only to find that, her gout having improved a great deal, she had gone down to breakfast for the first time in a week. Cheered at the news, Georgie searched her out in the breakfast room and was pleased to see her ladyship looking much more hearty than she had just days before.
“Ah, lovely, Georgina,” Lady Russell said from the table, where she still had a cup of tea and a saucer of toast before her. “You will be able to accompany me to the Pump Room this morning, will you not? I vow it seems months since we were there—though I daresay it has only been a matter of days.”
Belatedly, Georgie recalled her promise at the art gallery that she would meet Lettice at the Pump Room the next day. It felt like years since that afternoon, though it was only a few days. She hoped her friend would understand once she explained all that had gone on since their afternoon together on the day of Con’s arrival in Bath.
“Of course, my lady,” she said aloud to Lady Russell. “I will be more than happy to accompany you.” She chose a rasher of bacon and some toast for her plate and took a seat beside Clara.
“I hope you are recovered from your headache, Mrs. Mowbray,” Clara said when Georgie had taken her seat. “I was so disappointed for you to miss the second half of the play since you seemed to enjoy the first so much.”
Since she and Con had agreed not to mention Georgie’s altercation with the young men last night, she simply said, “Yes, thank you. I was disappointed too. But it couldn’t be helped.”
“What’s this?” Lady Russell asked, her eyes sharp as she looked at Georgie from across the table. “I did not know you were ill. Perhaps you should stay here and rest while Clara accompanies me to the Pump Room.”
“Not at all,” Georgie said before Clara could speak. “I am much recovered, my lady. And perhaps I’ll take the waters to see if they have any effect on my head.”
It was not something she’d enjoy, but Georgie supposed the foul-tasting waters wouldn’t harm her. And Lady Russell continued to drink them however Georgie might believe they’d done nothing to help the old woman’s gout.
“An excellent notion.” Lady Russell nodded. “You will feel much better after a drink of the waters. I thought they were not helping my gout, but now that it is improved I think they simply take time to take effect.” Having finished her tea and toast, the old woman rose with the help of her walking stick. “I’ll go fetch my hat and shawl and we’ll be off as soon as you’ve finished your breakfast, Georgina.”
When the older woman was out of earshot, Clara turned to Georgie and asked, “You are well, aren’t you? I must admit that I was surprised when you left early last evening. The headache must have come on very suddenly, indeed.”
Unsure whether she should confide in the other woman or not, Georgie merely nodded, hoping that Clara would drop the subject. She was saved from considering the matter further by Con’s arrival in the room. “Aunt says that you’ll be taking the waters this morning, Mrs. Mowbray,” he said from the sideboard where he filled a plate with more food than Georgie could eat in a week. “I had hoped you’d be much recovered today.”
At his tone, she looked up to find him watching her. Wondering if she’d recovered from what she’d seen last night, she had little doubt.
“Will you accompany us to the Pump Room as well, Cousin?” Clara asked, looking from Georgie to Con and back again. “I know that Aunt Russell will be pleased to have you there.”
“I don’t think so,” Con said regretfully. “I’ve a bit of business to take care of today, though I hope to be finished by early afternoon. Mrs. Mowbray, I have a feeling that you might be getting a call later this afternoon. Will you be here, do you think?”
“How mysterious you sound, Con,” Clara said with a teasing note. “Who will you be bringing to call upon Mrs. Mowbray? A potential suitor? A friend? I must know!”
Georgie couldn’t help but gasp at the other woman’s inquisitiveness. Though she supposed it was to be expected when Con made things sound so havey-cavey.
“Nothing so mysterious as all that, Clara,” he said with an indulgent smile. “Mrs. Mowbray and I stumbled upon a cutpurse last night before we left the theater. I plan to call upon the magistrate this morning and thought perhaps that one of his investigators might wish to speak to her.”
“Good heavens,” Clara said, a hand to her chest. “I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us, my dear?”
“I did not wish to overset you, my dear Clara, or Lady Russell for that matter,” Georgie said, casting a speaking glance Con’s way. “I shall endeavor to be back in Henrietta Street before luncheon, my lord. Will that be all right?”
Con inclined his head in asse
nt. “I will see you then. Though I wonder if you are able to go to the Pump Room given how severe your…”—he paused, looking at her with a penetrating gaze,—“headache was last evening. Do you not think that it might be safer for you to remain here this morning?”
Knowing that he feared for her safety given what she’d seen last night, Georgie felt warmth seep into her chest. Even so, she could not simply lock herself up in Henrietta Street until the danger was past. For one thing she would go mad. For another, she had a job to do.
“I’m afraid not,” she said with real apology. “I really must do what I can to please Lady Russell today. I have neglected her a bit this week, so I should like to spend the day with her. And she wishes to go to the Pump Room, so I too shall go there.”
“Understandable,” Con said with a nod. “I shall arrange things, and if the investigator decides to call, I shall introduce you to him.”
Georgie could see that Con disliked her answer and was unsurprised when he said, “I could speak to my aunt, if it comes to that. I’m sure if she knew how much you were affected by last night’s ordeal she’d insist you remain behind.”
The nerve of the man, she fumed. Trying to manipulate her into doing his bidding. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” she said through clenched teeth. “It is merely the Pump Room, after all. There is little enough harm to be had there. Unless one counts exposure to the waters.”
He looked as if he’d like to argue, but Con finally raised his hands as if in surrender. “As you see fit, Mrs. Mowbray,” he said finally.
“Really, my dear,” Clara said, oblivious to the undercurrents running between her cousin and her aunt’s companion. “If we are to accompany my aunt we must go fetch our hats.”
Some half hour later, Lady Russell, Georgie, Clara, and Lydia entered the Pump Room, which was somewhat crowded for this hour of the day. Immediately, Lydia excused herself to go chat with a group of young people on the other end of the bright chamber. Lady Russell, spotting a group of her own cronies, headed their way, leaving Georgie and Clara standing together near the entrance.
“Well, I call that very unfair,” Clara said with mock dejection. “I suppose our conversation isn’t entertaining enough for those two.”
“I suspect in Lydia’s case, it’s more that we are not handsome or titled,” Georgie said, eyeng the young men who made up part of the young lady’s group.
A dimple appeared in Clara’s cheek. “I fear you’re right. And I suppose that leaves us on our own.” She surveyed the room and her gaze rested on a pair of young matrons near the windows. “I see some friends there,” she said. “Come along with me and I’ll introduce you.”
“I should like that,” Georgie said. “But I fear I’ll have to take the waters first. I’ll be right over in a moment.”
Clara looked over to where the server stood beside the pump, handing out cups of the noxious water. A line stretched all the way to the end of the chamber. “I daresay it would be best done quickly,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Better you than me.”
Georgie bit back a laugh before urging the other woman to join her friends. With the enthusiasm of a prisoner walking to the gallows, she made her way to the end of the queue, where a pair of old gentlemen stood arguing politics as they waited.
Her mind left to wander, Georgie thought back again to what had happened last evening at the theater. A quick scan of the Pump Room had revealed no one resembling Robert. And given how he’d thus far kept to places where he would be able to effect a quick escape, she wasn’t surprised. Since her husband hadn’t had a twin, she suspected this man only looked like Robert. The Pump Room, with its many windows, was hardly the right venue for him to fool her. And she was convinced now that for whatever reason, this man wished her to believe her husband was back from the dead.
And the murder of the young man on the rooftop of the Theater Royale clearly indicated that the reason behind this man’s attempt to frighten her was much more sinister than Georgie had first assumed. Wishing she could speak to Isabella and Perdita about the matter, she wondered, not for the first time, if this could be connected to the threats they’d all three received since the untimely death of the late Duke of Ormond. Though the circumstances had never been made public, Georgie knew that someone who wished to do her and her two friends ill did know them. And had decided that even though the duke had tried to kill all three of them that night, they were somehow in the wrong. Isabella had been tormented a few months ago at the behest of this unknown enemy. And now, it seemed, it was Georgina’s turn.
Perhaps, as had been the case with Isabella’s ordeal, this singular person who wished to punish them had delegated the task of antagonizing Georgina to someone else. The very idea made a chill race down Georgie’s spine, as she tried to determine which of her current friends or acquaintances had betrayed her in such a way.
A hand on her arm, after the thoughts she’d just been entertaining, nearly sent Georgie to the ceiling of the Pump Room. “I’m so sorry, Georgina,” said Lettice from beside her. “I did not mean to startle you. But only look who I’ve found!”
Turning, Georgie saw that Lettice was indeed accompanied by Mary Kendrick. “Lettice,” she said, embracing her friend, “I am so terribly sorry I did not come as I said I would days ago. This week has been quite busy what with Lady Russell’s family arriving to celebrate her birthday, and I’ve not had a morning to spare.”
“From what I’ve heard,” Mary said with a sly smile, “you’ve been spending a bit of time with her ladyship’s nephew, the Earl of Coniston, Georgie.”
Cursing the way that gossip spread in Bath, Georgie smiled, hoping she did not reveal her annoyance. “Oh, I fear that’s an exaggeration, Mary. The earl is Lady Russell’s nephew, of course, but we have spent time together only as part of group visits to the ruins at Farley Castle and then last evening to the theater. It is hardly to be remarked upon.”
“The Earl of Coniston?” Lettice’s eyes widened. “The same Earl of Coniston we saw at the art gallery, my dear? The artist? Why, Georgie, you do know him better than you let on, don’t you?”
Knowing that if she allowed her friends to continue their interrogation they’d be there all day, Georgie changed the subject. “So, I see that you two have found one another,” she said. “How have you been passing the time?”
The three women chatted for several moments about the various sights Lettice had been showing Mary that week, though Lettice—naturally—mourned that the weather wasn’t nicer, the shops weren’t cleaner and Bath in general wasn’t so nice as London.
When there was a break in Lettice’s complaints, Mary said, “Oh, Georgina, I meant to ask you about something the other day when we met in the lending library.”
Thinking back to that uncomfortable day, Georgie braced herself for what might be innocuous but might also be painful. One never knew with Mary, she’d come to learn.
“Before he left that night for battle, my Jem mentioned that Robert had said something about ensuring his legacy.” Georgie felt Mary’s eyes on her face, as if the other woman were watching for some infinitesimal clue that would give away her thoughts. “I simply wondered if his letter mightn’t have said something about it.”
Lettice’s eyes widened. “A letter?” She gasped. “You never said aught of a letter to me, Mary.” Turning to Georgina, she prodded, “What did it say, Georgie?”
But Georgie had no intention of revealing the contents of Robert’s letter to either of them. Especially given that Robert had confessed to an affair with one of her friends. Though she doubted it had been either Mary or Lettice, she still did not wish to share with them the knowledge that he’d been unfaithful. “I’m afraid it was private, Lettice,” she said without rancor. “But there was nothing about a legacy in it, I can tell you that much.”
Was it Georgie’s imagination or did Mary look disappointed? Could she have been hoping for Georgie to come into some sort of property? Perhaps in the hopes that Geo
rgie would share some of it with her dear friends?
Lettice’s face fell as well. “Oh, dear. I had hoped that he’d left you an independence so that you would be able to live on your own and not as the companion of Lady Russell. I do so hate that you are under that woman’s thumb.”
Georgie felt ashamed at thinking so poorly of her friends. Of course they wanted to know if she would be able to take care of herself. “I’m afraid not, Lettice, dear,” she told her friend, including Mary in her apologetic gaze. “And I do assure you that Lady Russell is not the tyrant you think she is.”
“Come, Lettice,” Mary said with a sympathetic smile for Georgie. “We will go have some tea while Georgie consumes these horrid waters.”
Agreeing to meet her friend again later in the week, Georgie watched as they walked out of the Pump Room. What had Mary been talking about? she wondered. Could Robert have been more well off than he’d given her to believe? She had packed his few belongings into a small trunk which was currently being stored at Ormond House. And try as she might, she couldn’t think a few books, some medals, and a few bits of jewelry he’d inherited from his parents, would be enough for him to call them a legacy.
Finally reaching the head of the line, she took the cup of cloudy water from the fellow at the pump. Stepping to the side, she took a sip and found that while it was not something she’d ever crave, the water wasn’t so bad as all that. Deciding not to dally, she gulped it down without stopping.
The man who had been in the queue behind her took a spot beside her and sipped from his cup. He looked familiar but she couldn’t quite place him. “I see that you are from the ‘the faster the better’ school of thought when it comes to drinking the waters,” he said, raising his cup.
Amused, she said, “Yes, while I see that you are from the ‘if I take small enough sips I won’t ever actually taste it’ school.”
Why Earls Fall in Love Page 12
