by Anna Small
“No, although I wish it were as simple as that. Georgiana desires to go abroad with our aunt Adele in a month. I am seeking a strong male escort.” Jonathan flushed. “I hate to ask you, Jack, but if you were already going…”
“I would be delighted, Lockewood. Grandfather wants me there within three weeks or so. I can easily alter my plans to fit yours.”
Jonathan’s shoulders straightened as if Jack had removed a great burden. “Thank you, Jack. You don’t know how much this means to me. If anything were to happen to her…” He shook Jack’s hand. “Come by my house in Grosvenor Square later, if you are able. Perhaps we can share a drink and talk of old times.”
Jack grinned wryly. He had a full evening already planned involving the company of his latest mistress—an Italian Cyprian named Donatella. Or was Gabriella on the menu tonight?
“I fear I would not be suitable company for your sweet bride, banged up as I am. Come to my set at the Albany later. It’s probably a lot quieter than Grosvenor Square, with all your women clacking about. As I recall, Georgie could talk the ears off an elephant.”
Jonathan laughed. “She has not changed in that regard. But we do not call her Georgie anymore. She’s all grown up now, as she never fails to remind me. Shall we say ten this evening?”
Jonathan walked to his waiting carriage. Jack stared after him.
“What have you agreed to, Jack? Is not his sister a child?” Talbot asked.
“She should be—oh, I don’t know—about sixteen or so. No, eighteen.” He chewed his lip. Had it been two years or more since he’d last visited Fairwood Hall? He saw Lockewood on occasion but had missed the wedding due to pressing business. Maybe he’d been too wrapped up in a winning streak at a gambling hell to notice. He really should pay more attention to his friends. He had few left in the world as it was.
“Hard luck, Jack. I wouldn’t want to escort a chattering chit and troublesome old matron across the Channel.”
“I don’t mind. Georgiana was always an amusing girl.” He caught a glimpse of himself in a storefront window and frowned. “I hope my nose looks more like its old self before the journey. I would hate to scare the ladies.”
****
“Is domesticated bliss boring you to tears already?” Jack regarded his friend as they sat before the fireplace in Jack’s bachelor quarters. The room was tidier than usual, as Jack had spent the past few nights tied down at a gaming table or pursuing the delectable Mrs. Leister, an actress at the Haymarket with whom he’d once shared a dalliance in his youth.
“On the contrary, my dear fellow,” Jonathan replied archly. “Marriage was the best thing that ever happened to me. You should be so lucky.”
As much as he enjoyed teasing his old friend, Jack had to agree. “You and Sophie are very fortunate. I’ve never seen you happier.”
“You should set your mind to a similar place, Jack. One cannot find happiness in those gaming hells and dens of sin you frequent.”
“Marriage has spoiled you for these low establishments, Lockewood.” He waved his hand, lazy from the cozy fire and a rich supper. “I have not your penchant for domestication. I shall not stick my neck willingly into the parson’s noose.”
“Do you not ever think of settling down, Jack? Putting all of this”—Jonathan motioned toward Jack’s crooked nose—“behind you?”
“The noose will be around my neck soon enough.” Jack tried not to dwell on the last conversation he’d had with his grandfather. “Alas, I cannot find anyone suitable.”
“You have, no doubt, been looking in the wrong places.”
Jack smirked. “Perhaps I should visit your bride’s family. Does she not have a few pink-cheeked sisters still at home?” Jonathan shuddered, and Jack choked on a laugh. “Do not worry, Lockewood. You and I would make disparate brothers-in-law.”
“I agree with you there. You would be better off allowing someone else to find a respectable bride for you, Jack. Sophie can always inquire amongst her friends. Nice girls, the lot of them.”
Jack twisted the glass between his fingers, sloshing the dark amber liquid around the edges. “That would be delightful if we were talking about a cottage by the sea or a piece of horseflesh. Thank you for the thought, but I prefer to find my own bride.”
“Has your grandfather been threatening you again?”
Although he grinned, Jack detected an air of sympathy in his friend’s voice.
“He is of the opinion a wife will end my wicked ways. To that effect, he has threatened to halt my allowance by my thirtieth birthday if I do not produce a marriage license.” He stared into the bottom of his glass. “And a wife to go with it.”
“The dreaded thirtieth birthday ultimatum.” Jonathan sighed. “I don’t envy you. To be forced into marriage, well…” He finished his brandy. “I know we both experienced many diversions in our youth, but I am glad to have settled down. I never thought I’d say it, but I am truly happy. I wish you would find that kind of happiness, Jack.”
He couldn’t resist snorting. “What? Attach myself to a rich little heiress who will try to bend me into her mother’s ideal of a perfect husband? Staying home every night at the beck and call of a shrill-voiced viper while delightful temptations wait around every corner?” He tapped the rim of his glass. “You don’t remember what it’s like to have a different woman in your bed night after night. As lovely as Mrs. Lockewood is, I would not want to come home every night to the same woman.”
Jonathan shook his head sternly, but a corner of his mouth twitched. “One day, you will eat those words, Jack. I will wait for the day when you spout poetically of the haunting creature who has beguiled you down the aisle.”
“When that day comes, I give you permission to hang me from the nearest tree.”
“Why so down on love, Jack? Now that I think of it, I’ve never known you to lose your heart. Even to the actress we all knew, years ago. Sarah, was it? I thought she was the one for you, despite the fact your grandfather would have disowned you on the spot for sullying the Waverley name.”
Jack fidgeted with his cuff buttons. “It’s complicated.”
Jonathan sniffed. “There is no complication. You refuse to open your heart to anyone, as friendly and caring as you are. What do you fear? That someone will actually love you?”
“I haven’t seen you in nearly three years, and all you can do is preach steadfast monogamy? Come, man! I remember when your heart was torn between the delightful Lady Selfridge and her sister. Neither of them knew you were courting the other. Do not speak to me about true love. Besides, it does not exist.”
“It does not?”
“No. It’s a fabrication intended to ruin the lives of otherwise contented bachelors.” Jack rose to stretch his legs and peered out the window at the rain pouring off the roof across the street. The green hills of Bordeaux would be a respite after the sodden London spring.
“I will not attempt to change your mind, Jack. And, for God’s sake, I do not mean to preach. I would have you happy.”
“I am happy.” Jack turned away from the window and forced his frown to vanish. “As happy as I can expect to be. Enough about me. Tell me more of your sister’s upcoming adventure away from the safety and security of your hearth. I’m surprised you are allowing her out of your sight.”
“Georgiana wishes for a change of scene. I admit an ulterior motive in asking you to escort her, Jack. I hope you can talk some sense into her while you’re traveling together. She has always looked up to you, and I think hearing advice from someone she admires will help my purpose.”
“Oh? What has she done now?” Jack recalled Georgiana’s mischievous antics as a child, often driving her patient brother to distraction.
“She refuses to discuss any possibility of marriage. I have found several likely suitors for her, but she will have nothing to do with them. I’m at my wit’s end, and Sophie will not take my side.”
Jack hid a smile. “She’s still very young. Can she not wait a few years?”
“She’ll be twenty in a month. She has not entertained any suitors this season. If she continues like this, no one will want her.”
Jack laughed. “She’s beautiful, intelligent, and enormously wealthy. Anyone would have her, should he meet your impossibly high standards. Tell me the list of candidates for your future brother-in-law, and I will foster my own opinion as to speaking to her.”
Lockewood numbered them on his fingers. “There is Winston, the son of Lord Jarvis.”
“Not very bright, but he has around six thousand a year and will not interfere with your controlling his wife’s every move. Next?”
“The Earl of Rochester’s boy.”
“The one who was caught in a compromising position with his sister’s governess?”
“No, the other one.” Jonathan’s face flushed.
“Ah. Roderick. Big ears to match his equally big inheritance. Decent dancer, but I’ve encountered him at enough gaming hells to know you do not want him visiting Fairwood Hall at Christmastide unless you lock up your scullery maids. Who else have you selected, or are they all as promising as this lot?”
Jonathan’s left eyelid twitched. “Viscount Richmond’s eldest. Herbert. He’s rather big-boned, but he’s a steady fellow. Likes horses.”
“Only because he shares their appetite.” Jack steepled his fingers. “Georgiana will not tolerate a gambler, nor will she accept that oaf, Richmond, regardless of the fortune. Why are you going to so much trouble in procuring a husband for her? Surely, with her own fortune, she may remain on the shelf for a good many years before taking that fateful plunge into the abyss. She has you and your wife, and her other Lockewood cousins.” He peered intently at his friend. “It must be for another reason.”
Jonathan fidgeted with his watch fob. “Do you recall that repugnant incident about two years ago?”
“Involving a man whom you considered a brother?” Jack tensed, every muscle contracting as if he were in the boxing ring and not in his drawing room. “I do wish you had brought me along to Gretna Green, Lockewood. I’d have seen to it that Mitford took his food in liquid form the rest of his life.”
“That is precisely why I did not bring you.” Jonathan’s frown deepened. “Georgiana was overwrought. She begged me to spare his life.” He snorted. “As if I would sully my soul with that man’s blood on my conscience. Were it not for our lengthy friendship, I would not have been as merciful as I was.”
“He took advantage of your friendship, Lockewood, and of Georgiana’s innocence. Why, he was at Fairwood Hall almost as much as I was in our school days.”
“Yes, but you did not try to seduce her.”
“Only because your father had a knack for hiring fetching dairy maids.” Jack winked, which eased a smile onto his friend’s face.
“I still find it hard to believe I was blind to his designs on her. He had us all fooled.”
“Don’t blame yourself. Mouldy Mitford turned into the biggest scoundrel of us all. And he had quite the competition.” He tugged at his cravat.
“Speak for yourself.”
“Fear not, Lockewood. I will beat him for you, next time I see him. I have not heard of his being in town. Perhaps he’s done us all a favor and dropped off the earth, or is currently living amongst cannibals on some island.”
“We should be so lucky.” Jonathan’s face clouded. “Georgiana is lonely, Jack. She denies it, of course, but I can see it. Yes, she is happy—Georgiana would find happiness in any kind of decent company. She has Sophie and me, as you said, and cousins and friends. Aunt Adele is a faithful companion. But it is not enough. A young woman, with such a big heart—” He hastily rose from his chair and poured another finger of brandy. “Mitford, that scum, preyed on her trusting nature. Thankfully, I found them before…” He drained the contents of his glass in a single gulp.
Jack ran his hand through his hair. It had been difficult—damnably difficult at the time—to forgive Lockewood for not allowing him to beat Edward Mitford into a bloody pulp for his devious ways.
When he’d next seen the scoundrel in a gaming room at White’s, he’d called him out, but Mitford made such a scene of Jack’s being inebriated nothing came of it. Still fuming, he resolved to answer Mitford’s unpardonable behavior toward the Lockewoods one day.
“That is why I wish her to marry,” Jonathan said at length. “Before she is, as you called it, on the shelf for too long, and no one will want her. She deserves to be happy with the right man. To be a wife.” He cleared his throat. “To be a mother.”
Jack chuckled at the idea, and Jonathan’s frown eased. “Can you imagine Georgie a mother? She would be just like her children—running around the garden and dragging them into her mischief. They would beg you to tell Mamma to come down from the branches of the highest tree.”
Jonathan returned to his seat. “I always hated heights. I was so glad you volunteered to climb that great oak after her. What was she—about six or so?”
“More like five. Her dress was tangled in the branches, and she’d lost her slippers. She saw me and pretended she hadn’t been crying.” Jack grinned at the memory. “I was a skinny lad and don’t know how I managed to bring her down. Her little arms were tight around my neck. I said to her, ‘Pudding Face! Let me breathe a moment, or else we’ll both fall!’”
Jonathan laughed with him. “She was always getting into trouble, but I think it was so she would be rescued by one of us.” His smile faded. “She wasn’t even surprised to see me, when I came upon her and…and that blackguard. She never said a word on the ride home but held my hand the entire time. It was as if she’d known I would come.”
“You’ve been brother and father to her for a long time, my friend. I don’t know how you do it.”
Jonathan shrugged, and a trace of the carefree boy he once was appeared on his face.
Not for the first time did Jack inwardly scold himself for not visiting more often, taking some of the responsibility from Jonathan’s shoulders. The Lockewoods had provided a loving home for him in those first, terrible years after his parents died and his grandfather had sent him away to school.
“I had no choice. But I would not have it any other way. God knows what ruin she’d have come to if Aunt Adele had taken her under her wing. I’d have spent the rest of my days dueling one scoundrel after another. Aunt Adele caused my parents no end of headaches after my uncle died, for all that she’s so kindhearted. That’s another reason I want you to escort them. One impetuous woman in the family is one too many.”
Jack raised his empty glass. “To heroes and rescuers of little girls, whether they be prizefighting rogues or landed gentlemen. Or both.”
Jonathan imitated the gesture. “To you, Jack. And for what it’s worth, you like to play the rogue, but I know you. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with Georgiana’s safety, you know.”
“Strange, I do not remember saying I would go.”
“Strange, indeed. I thought you had.”
Jack rose from his chair, and Jonathan did the same. “So I did.” They clasped hands firmly. Jack held his friend’s gaze. “I will guard her with my life.” He laughed shortly. “After all, what kind of mischief can she find in the quiet countryside?”
Chapter Three
“I hope you do not sleep the entire way to Portsmouth.” Georgiana prodded Jack’s boot with the toe of her shoe. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him feign sleep.
He’d been that way for the last half hour, and the monotony of Aunt Adele’s snores and the jostling of the coach had distracted her to irritability.
He cracked open an eyelid. “As if anyone could sleep with your relentless chattering, Georgie.” He muffled a yawn with the back of his hand and stretched against the padded seat.
“How many times must I remind you to refrain from using that dreadful nickname?”
“You are still the pestering little girl I remember so well. It’s hard to remember you’re all grown up.” He arched his eyebrows. “Georgiana.”
/>
“You’re grumbling because you’re tired. You should not have been carousing all night, but resting in anticipation of our journey.”
“I’ll have you know, I was counting sheep well before midnight.” He regarded her suspiciously. “Since when did you become so bossy, miss? I recall a more respectful girl. You used to sit at my knee and beg me to tell you of my wild escapades.”
“Perhaps when I was ten I admired you,” she said crisply. She purposely scanned his slouching figure, noting his rumpled linen and drooping neckcloth. “I hardly recognized you this morning. Do you not have a proper valet? I notice you do not travel with one.”
“I can dress myself, thanks.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I have a suitable houseman in Bordeaux who doubles as valet when the occasion calls for it. What about you? A grown up woman should have someone to attend her. Or do you still have a nursemaid?”
She gave him her best disdainful glare. “I will have someone at Lady Priscilla’s home attend me. A respectable man should live as one. You have sunk low in this world, Jack Waverley.”
His lips twitched as he fought back a smile. She tingled inside. She’d always enjoyed their repartee. It was why she’d always looked forward to his visits at Fairwood Hall. That and his ability to make her laugh even at her darkest moments. He’d been a great comfort when her mother had died. She’d crawled into his lap and slept for hours when he found her, alone in her father’s big chair. Nobody else had the time to come looking for her, but Jack stayed at her side, ready with a tug on her curls or a sweet hidden in his pocket, distracting her from her sadness.
“Not so low I cannot escort an innocent maiden and her chaperone across the Channel.” He adjusted his collar and cuffs with the assumed air of a judge. “I warn you, I may rescind my offer to your brother and send you packing. None of this gallivanting about the Parisian streets for you, Georgie. Think of all the parties and balls you will miss!” He clucked his tongue against his teeth. “And all because of your low opinion of me.”
She laughed, genuinely happy for the first time in weeks. When Jonathan and Sophie moved to London for the season, they’d hoped the excitement would drag her out of her doldrums. Instead, she’d hardly left the house except to accompany Sophie on a few obligatory visits to those ladies of the ton they could not ignore. The daytime visits were not too bad; she had no chance of meeting Edward in the places where matrons and children dwelled. An outing to the theatre or a ball might put her in the same company of the one person she could not bear to see.
