The expression in Perdita’s face was precisely why Georgie hadn’t told her about what was between her and Con. Expectations. If she told anyone about what had happened last night, then they would have expectations about what the next step should be. And for now, at least, she’d hoped to keep the intimacy they’d shared to themselves. Clearly that was not meant to be.
“Perdita,” she said, trying to find the words to explain herself, “I’m not from the nobility as you are. I can’t trace my ancestry back to William the Conqueror and I most certainly never expected to find myself in bed with an earl. The very notion is so foreign to anything I’ve ever considered might happen to me that I still wonder if there is some sort of hoax being perpetrated on me.”
“Oh, please,” Perdita said with a moue of distaste. “You will not convince me that you are some sort of low-class slattern just because your father was a career army officer instead of a titled nobleman. And I do not think that has anything to do with this situation. You are simply frightened of what’s passed between you and Con. I daresay because it’s more passionate than whatever it was that you shared with your husband.”
Georgie frowned. “Why do you say that?” she asked carefully, not wanting to reveal how close her friend had come to the truth.
“Because I know what it is to be married to a man who terrifies you. And I know that no matter how kind he might seem sometimes, there was never any question that he’d remain so forever. It’s simply not how life is with a husband like that. It’s a constant struggle to figure out where the next blow is coming from. What mistake will set him off this time. What misplaced word or innocent decision will cause him to hit you this time.”
Perdita’s eyes shone. “I know what that is like, and I know that however intense Con might be about things sometimes, he will never, ever, be the sort of man Gervase and Robert were.”
Georgie realized then that Perdita was right. Her connection with Con was far stronger than what she’d had with Robert. In part because she didn’t fear for herself every moment. And she knew that Con was an entirely different sort of man.
“It is more passionate,” she admitted. “And more intimate. Emotionally, I mean. And that frightens me, I suppose. Because I have so much more in common with Con. There is so much more of a connection that if something were to go wrong—if he became violent or turned into a different sort of man—there would be more to lose.”
She took a deep breath and clasped her hands together to keep them steady. “I don’t know if I could stand it if he turned into a man like Robert.”
“My dear,” Perdita said, her face creased with sympathy, “I know you are frightened, but I can tell you, as someone who has known Con for most of my adult life, that he is not like them. He never has been. In part because of what he witnessed between his aunt and his uncle. From the moment he became aware of what was going on between Ormond and me, I could see how much he wished to put a stop to it. But there was little he could do. Under the law, a wife is subject to her husband. And for all that Con is an earl and powerful in his own right, Gervase was a duke. With more power.”
“I hadn’t realized,” Georgie said, thinking of how it must have galled Con to stand by while Ormond battered Perdita.
“It was for that reason that I couldn’t marry him,” Perdita said sadly. “Not because he was so decent, but because I felt as if he were doing it to make up for what he hadn’t been able to do while Gervase was alive. It felt like a sort of atonement. And, perhaps it’s selfish of me, but I wish my next marriage to be to someone I adore and who adores me. Not someone who likes me well enough and wishes to marry me to assuage his own conscience.”
It was certainly something she’d never considered, and Georgie found herself wondering if Con’s attraction to her might be because, like Perdita, she’d been the victim of an abusive husband.
“Don’t think for a moment that it’s the same,” Perdita said firmly, as if she’d read Georgie’s mind. “You haven’t seen the way he lights up when you enter a room. Or the way that his gaze lingers on you when you don’t know he’s watching. I’ve never seen Con like this. Not with anyone.”
Georgie felt herself relax a little at her friend’s words, though she still wondered whether Con would be better off with someone else. Someone who wasn’t so damaged by her past.
“I’m still not sure that it’s enough,” she said finally. “I’m not sure if it would be right for me to tie him to me. Especially considering that there’s a madman, or woman,” she added, with a nod to Perdita, “who wants to do me harm.”
“Georgina,” Perdita said with a grin. “I don’t think you’ve got a choice in the matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that,” Perdita said. “I think Con is going to do whatever it takes to have you, and if that means ridding the world of whoever is trying to bring you down, then he’s going to do it.”
“Not if I do it first,” Georgie said with conviction.
“This is going to be a very interesting few weeks,” Perdita predicted.
* * *
Later that evening, Con and Archer having departed not long after the ladies had disappeared upstairs, Georgie and Perdita were just sitting down to supper when a disturbance at the front entrance interrupted their conversation.
“Curious,” Perdita said with a frown. “I wasn’t expecting callers at this hour.”
“Perhaps it’s my last trunk,” Georgie said, tasting the turtle soup that had just been put down before her. “Or some friend who hasn’t realized what time it is.”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Perdita said with a shrug.
Just then Hobson, who’d left only a moment before to retrieve the second course, returned, looking harassed. “The Duke and Duchess of Ormond,” he said, just before Isabella and her husband, Trevor, the cousin who’d succeeded to the dukedom after Gervase’s death, stepped into the dining room.
“Surprise,” Isabella said rather sheepishly. “I am sorry for interrupting your supper, but might you have enough for a couple of weary travelers?”
“Don’t be a goose,” Perdita said with a wave to Hobson, instructing him to set two more places and to ask cook for two more bowls of the splendid turtle soup.
When that was finished she turned to greet her sister and brother-in-law properly. “What a delight to see you both! Whatever brings you to Bath of all places? Though we’ve had some excitement ourselves, Bath as a rule is duller than watching sheep graze.”
“It’s actually rather soothing if you’re in the right mood,” Trevor said, thanking the footman who’d just filled his wine glass. “Though it’s no match for cows lying down.”
“Darling,” Isabella said to the duke, “I’m afraid Perdita and Georgina have no earthly idea whether you are joking or serious. I doubt Perdita has seen a sheep in her life.”
“I have too,” Perdita objected. “One of the milkmaids had one in Hyde Park.”
“That was probably a cow, Perdita,” Georgie said in an undertone.
Perdita frowned then shrugged. “Doubtless you are correct,” she admitted. Then turning to her sister, she said, “So I ask again, why are the two of you in Bath? I thought you were leaving for the Continent this week for your wedding journey.”
“Well,” Isabella said, her cheeks rosy and, to Georgie’s eye, particularly radiant, “we thought perhaps it would be better to postpone things until after the child is born.”
Before the words had left her mouth Georgie and Perdita had both cried out with joy and were out of their chairs and hugging Isabella. By the time they’d resumed their seats, all three women were wiping away tears.
“Well done!” Perdita said again, her grin infectious. “I cannot be more pleased for the two of you.”
“We’re quite pleased about it ourselves,” Trevor said with a grin.
“Though he does have a tendency to be a bit overprotective,” Isabella said with a roll of her eyes. “The doctor has sa
id that I’m healthy as a horse and there is no reason I shouldn’t continue on with my normal activities.”
“You had no business riding out in such a chill yesterday,” Trevor said with mock ferocity. “Especially not without a cloak.”
“I was wearing a cloak. Just not the fur-lined one, which, by the way, is unnecessary unless there is snow on the ground.”
Georgie watched her friend and her new husband bickering good-naturedly and wondered if she’d ever feel that comfortable with Con. She could already tell that he had the same sort of protective streak that the duke possessed, and if given half a chance he’d wrap her up in cotton wool if their coupling the night before resulted in a child. Unbidden, an image of her holding an infant while Con held them both in the circle of his arms arose in her mind and she felt a yearning in her chest the likes of which she’d never thought to feel again.
It was at once inspiring and frightening. What if she were with child even now? She would have to marry Con then, whether she was able to overcome her fear of marrying again or not. Surprisingly, the thought wasn’t as dire as she’d have thought. Perhaps she was already halfway to making a decision about him.
If he should ever ask, she reminded herself.
“So,” Isabella was saying, “we decided that in lieu of a trip abroad we’d come to sedate Bath and check on how the two of you were getting on. Though you said there was some excitement. Do tell!”
One of Perdita’s delicately arched brows rose. “Archer wrote to you, didn’t he?”
Isabella pursed her lips. “It’s Lord Archer,” she corrected, “and what if he did? Am I no longer allowed to worry about how my friends are getting on now that I’m married again?”
“The man has lived in the same house with me for five years,” Perdita said, shaking her head. “I shall call him by his Christian name if I so choose. And he had no business writing to you. Especially not in your current condition.”
“It’s not as if he were able to sense it from afar,” Isabella grumbled. “And I wanted to be here. To help.”
“Isabella,” Georgina said, ignoring the sisters’ bickering. “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your coming, but surely with your change of circumstances it isn’t a good idea for you to be here where things are so … unsettled.”
“But that’s just it,” Isabella argued. “I am here because things are so unsettled. I remember what it was like to be there in Yorkshire without the two of you to rely on.” She reached out to grasp Trevor’s hand and said, “I’m sorry, darling, but you know how lonely things were there for me before we became friendly.”
“I do,” he said, kissing the back of her hand. “And I understand both their worry for you and your need to be here. Georgina, if it’s any consolation, I will do what I can to help Lord Coniston and Archer—he’s my personal secretary so I can call him by his Christian name if I wish as well, Isabella—with whatever they might be planning to entrap this schemer who is trying his best to ruin your reputation.”
Perdita and Georgie exchanged looks of relief. “I must admit that I do appreciate having the assistance,” Georgie said with gratitude. “Though, Isabella, if you ever feel as if things are becoming too much for you to handle or if you and Trevor just want to go back to London and be alone, please don’t hesitate to pack your bags and go. Indeed, you might not wish to reside in the same house with me since I doubt you’ve heard the latest yet.”
Quickly she gave them both a summary of what had happened earlier at Lady Russell’s house regarding the missing bracelet and its reappearance in Georgie’s bedchamber.
When she had finished, Trevor whistled. “That’s a fast and easy way to ruin a reputation,” he said with a disgusted look. “Though I am most disappointed in the way that Lady Russell and her family turned on you. One would hope that they would have shown more loyalty.”
“It wasn’t all of her family,” Perdita reminded them. “Con was quite upset about the matter and I have little doubt that he’s at Lady Russell’s even now trying to convince his aunt to change her mind.”
“Is that right?” Isabella asked casually. A bit too casually for Georgie’s comfort. “I wonder if it has something to do with the finer feelings that Lord Archer mentioned in his letter.”
“Isabella,” Trevor warned, “do not put your friend on the spot in front of me. You know that if Con and Archer sense I’ve overheard anything from her they won’t hesitate to use the thumbscrews.”
“You are all ever so amusing,” Georgie said with a roll of her eyes, “but I have no intention of saying anything. Because it’s none of your affair.”
“Oh, an affair, is it?” Isabella crooned. “How lovely. Do tell.”
“All right, Isabella,” Perdita chided. “You’ve had your fun. Now stop haranguing my houseguest.”
“Thank you, Perdita,” Georgie said with gratitude.
“Haranguing her is my job,” Perdita finished, to Georgie’s disgust.
“Dessert had better be delicious,” she groused. “It’s the least I deserve if this is how you treat your houseguests.”
Eighteen
The next morning, Con and Archer were leaving the White Hart where Con had removed when he left his aunt’s house, and where Archer had been staying since his arrival in Bath, when they were met by Mr. McGilloway, the investigator from the magistrate’s office.
“My lord,” the man said, doffing his hat to them. “I wondered if I might have a few minutes of your time. Alone.”
“I can assure you, Mr. McGilloway, that Lord Archer is privy to all the details of that night at the theater,” Con said, curiosity gripping him. McGilloway shrugged, and suggested they repair to the tavern in the next street.
Procuring a private dining room so they wouldn’t be overhead, Con waited until they’d been served small beers before he sat back in his chair and said, “Well, McGilloway, what news have you got for me?”
The investigator wiped a bit of foam from his upper lip before replying. “It’s about Malcolm Lowther.”
Con’s brows rose. “I gave him your direction just a couple of days ago. What is this about?”
“I’m afraid, my lord,” McGilloway said, “that Mr. Lowther is dead. His body was found in some rented rooms in Westgate Buildings last night. The charwoman came to clean and found him dead in ’is bed.”
“How was he killed?” Con asked, wondering if the same man who’d killed the man on the roof had killed Lowther.
“Poison, it looks like,” the investigator said with a moue of distaste. “Give me a shooting or even a hanging,” he said. “But poison is a wretched way to go, in my humble opinion.”
“One would rather not go at all,” Archer said with a grimace. “So what made you come to inform Lord Coniston about the fellow’s death?”
“Found one of his lordship’s calling cards in his rooms,” McGilloway said. “With my own name written on the back. I figured his lordship would be able to tell me what was what.”
“Are the two deaths connected, do you think?” Con asked. Though he’d originally suspected Lowther of killing the man on the roof, now he wasn’t so sure. As crazy as the man’s tale of letters had seemed that night, knowing what he now knew about the mastermind’s orchestration of any number of things using notes, Con was more inclined to believe Robert Mowbray’s brother on that score.
“Well,” McGilloway said, leaning back in his chair, “the fellow from the theater, John Potts, also stayed in a rooming house in Westgate Buildings, so it’s like as not they knew each other. But I don’t see how their deaths could be connected. One was stabbed, the other was poisoned.”
“But…?” Con prompted. He could see that the other man wasn’t quite convinced of his own words.
“But,” McGilloway admitted, “there was one thing that they had in common. Though it’s probably just one of those odd things.”
“There are any number of odd things about this situation,” Con muttered.
“Well, e
ven though the landlady at Lowther’s rooms didn’t hold with such things, she said she saw him meeting with a woman in mourning more than just a couple of times. Now, I never heard of a whore like that, but no woman with any sort of reputation is going to risk being seen in a man’s rooms. And since we don’t think he had a sister…”
“So what’s the connection with Potts?” Con prompted.
“That’s the thing,” McGilloway said, scratching his chin. “He was seen with a woman in mourning too. His landlord wasn’t so particular as Lowther’s was, so she could come and go as she pleased there. And it sounded to me from what the landlord said that she was living there for nigh on two weeks.”
Con pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “So, we have a widow who has been seen with both of the dead men.”
“And two dead men,” Archer added helpfully.
“And two dead men,” agreed McGilloway. “Both of whom have some kind of connection with his lordship here.”
“I can tell you easily enough how I know Lowther,” Con said. Quickly he told the other man about the way Lowther had been manipulated by some unknown person into frightening Georgina.
“So he looked enough like her dead husband to make her think he was a ghost?” McGilloway asked. “Seems to me that might make a woman pretty angry. And she is a widow, isn’t she?”
“She is a widow,” Con agreed, “but she has no reason to wish the man dead. And I can vouch for the fact that she’s not been to Westgate Buildings. At least not in the last week or so.”
“Doesn’t have to travel to Westgate Buildings to poison the fellow,” the investigator reminded him. “Could have poisoned a box of sweets and sent them to the man.”
“Did you find a box of poisoned sweets in his rooms?” Archer asked conversationally.
“Well, no,” McGilloway admitted. “But she could have removed them from his rooms after he died. Or she could have had an accomplice do it.” He gave a meaningful look to Con.
Why Earls Fall in Love Page 20
