“Well, if the Duke of Calder has an inclination towards either Fleur or Georgina, you must do nothing to upset it, Jeremy.” Felix laughed. “What man in his right mind would not think them the most beautiful women in the world.”
“Oh, Papa.” Fleur giggled excitedly. “But I do not think it is me that the Duke is interested in.” Her excitement had led her to be a little garrulous.
“Ah, so it is the beautiful Miss Jeffries.” Jeremy smiled broadly and bowed deeply in his cousin’s direction. “And very natural too.”
“Well, your visit here to Winton House is certainly turning out to be eventful, Georgina.” Felix laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “And I am pleased that you do not bend and certainly do not break in the face of my son’s perpetual teasing.”
“Not at all, Sir. Jeremy is a pussycat really,” she said and held Jeremy’s gaze, humorously challenging him.
“I am, my dear.” Jeremy was still highly amused. “All teeth and claws, Georgina.”
“All fur and laziness more like,” Fleur added.
“What is all this excitement?” Mirabelle Allencourt, or Great-Aunt Belle as she was known to all, walked sedately into the drawing room.
There really was a strong resemblance to Georgina’s grandmother, Elizabeth, except that Mirabelle was plumper, and her face had a very pleasing softness.
Elizabeth Allencourt, or Lady Elizabeth Jeffries, the Baroness, as she had become, had been angular in all respects now that Georgina came to compare her to her sister.
It had always been clear to Georgina that her grandmother was neither maternal nor did she have a fondness for her only grandchild. She seemed always to be more concerned with appearances than anything else, always determined that the Jeffries family name should be well respected and protected.
Georgina could not remember a single moment of warmth passing between herself and her grandmother, although she had never particularly mourned its loss. Her own mother had warmth enough to sustain Georgina, and so she had treated her grandmother as someone to be more or less avoided, particularly as a child.
“We have been invited to take afternoon tea with the Duke at Calder Hall,” Felix said brightly as he rushed to take his aunt’s arm and guide her into the most comfortable of the heavy brocade covered armchairs near the fire. “What do you say to that, Aunt Belle?”
“I say that is quite surprising, my dear Felix,” she said with a little groan as she settled her rotund frame down into the chair. “But delightful, I am sure.”
“And it is but two days away, so we have something very fine to look forward to Aunt Belle, do we not?” Felix strode across the room to the drinks cabinet and quickly poured his aunt a rather generous helping of sherry.
“Oh dear, I am not expected to go, am I?” Mirabelle said and reached up to take the sherry with a smile.
“Well, you are certainly invited,” Felix began. “For the invitation is to the Allencourt family and Miss Georgina Jeffries.”
“But I am sure that the Duke likely intends the invitation for those of the Allencourt family he met at his garden party.” Mirabelle took a dainty sip of the sherry.
“Would you not like to go, Aunt Belle?”
“I am too old to get excited about Dukes, my dear boy. Even mysterious ones.”
“Mysterious ones, Great Aunt?” Fleur said and hastened to perch on the couch opposite Mirabelle.
“Child, you are quite the nosiest young woman I have ever encountered,” Mirabelle said with a hearty laugh. “One little hint of gossip, and you sprint across the room as if you were a fox chasing a hen.”
“Stop teasing, Auntie Belle,” Fleur said in such a loving and amused tone that Georgina was taken aback.
She would never have enjoyed such an open and warm exchange with her own grandmother and wondered at the great differences that could exist between two sisters. Mirabelle really was a very different woman from her sister, Elizabeth.
“Well, what is so mysterious about a Duke you have never met, Great-Aunt Belle?” Fleur went on undeterred.
“I do not think the young man himself mysterious, at least I do not think he is. After all, as you rightly point out my dear, I have never met him.”
“Then what is mysterious?” Fleur went on, and Georgina stifled a laugh as she began to imagine her cousin chasing a hen across the drawing room.
“I think his very presence is just mysterious, my dear.”
“His presence? Why?” Fleur continued.
“Felix, do get your daughter a glass of sherry. It might calm her excitement a little,” Mirabelle said teasingly. “And why are you so excited about it all, Fleur? Tell me you are not hoping for a proposal already?”
“Stop teasing me,” Fleur said brightly. “And no, I am not hoping for a proposal. Well, not one made to me, at any rate.”
“Then my other great-niece has caught the eye of this young man, has she?” Mirabelle turned her attention on Georgina.
She was squinting at her a little, and so Georgina moved across the drawing room to take a seat on the couch so that Mirabelle might study her more closely.
“Perhaps Fleur is teasing you, Aunt Belle,” Georgina said warmly. “For I do not believe for a moment that the Duke has invited your family to his home on my account.”
“And why not, young lady?” Mirabelle said and fixed her with a curiously warm scowl.
“Well, I have seen him only three times, and I cannot think that we spoke for more than a few minutes on each occasion. Although we did play a hand of bridge.”
“I think your modesty rather suits you, my dear.” Mirabelle was still peering at her closely. “But I am inclined to agree with the rest of the family that there is a very healthy chance that you would appeal to such a fine gentleman. You are very beautiful, of course. All women with Allencourt blood are.” She nodded vigorously. “But there is something in your character which sets you a little apart, my dear. A little self-sufficiency, perhaps?”
“I am a little self-sufficient, Aunt Belle. After all, I have spent a good deal of time in my own company, and not just of late whilst I have been unwell.”
“And why is that?” Mirabelle did not show any sign that she was embarrassed by her own prying.
“Because my family lives a little out of the way, and I did not make a great number of friends as a child. I think children with brothers and sisters tend to be the recipients of invites rather more than lone children. Not that I mean to feel sorry for myself, Aunt Belle, for I do not. But I did live very quietly, and the few friends I do have are not so close to me that they have had a moment’s trouble in wiping me from their thoughts in their sudden search for husbands.”
“I daresay that is a phenomenon which plays itself out up and down the country, my dear,” Mirabelle said and laughed heartily. “But I do not think I have heard the sentiment so very well put. Well done, Georgina.”
“Thank you kindly, Aunt Belle,” Georgina said, thoroughly enjoying the praise which she thought the elderly lady bestowed but rarely.
“My dear Felix, I think you will manage this little afternoon excursion very well without me. After all, you have a very lively little party to take with you, and I think that the Duke of Calder will have enough on his hands with Georgina, without her Great-Aunt Belle confusing things.”
“As you wish,” Felix said with an indulgent laugh.
When the time came to actually attend that afternoon engagement just two days later, Georgina felt a little nervousness that she had not been expecting. She had come to think of the Duke of Calder more than once in the intervening days and could not help harbouring a secret hope that it really had been on her account that she and her family had been invited.
But she also thought that the addition of dear old Mirabelle Allencourt would have been a very welcome one. She was amusing in the way that elderly ladies often were, given that they were no longer trying to impress either potential suitors or their peers of middle age, and cared little what
others thought of them. That sort of sporting old lady was always a great comfort in a new social setting.
“You seem a little quiet, Georgina,” Fleur whispered into her ear as they walked arm in arm towards the huge stone steps which led into Calder Hall.
“If I am honest, I think I am a little nervous,” Georgina said, also whispering as she carefully eyed Felix and Jeremy, who walked ahead of them.
“I hope it is not down to me and all the silly things I said.”
“What silly things?”
“I ought not to have voiced my opinion that Emerson Lockhart has a liking for you. I should have thought before I spoke and not done so much to add pressure to you on such a day, my dear.”
“You have done nothing to add pressure, Fleur. In fact, you are a comfort as always.”
“How kind, Georgina.” Fleur squeezed her arm. “And how beautiful you look today. That gown suits you very well indeed.”
“Thank you, Fleur. You look very beautiful too, as always.”
Georgina had picked a gown which was neither too ostentatious nor too plain. It was in a thick dark ivory cotton with small green flowers all over it, giving the impression from afar that the gown was pale green.
There was a wide satin band in pale green around the Empire line beneath the bust, and Fleur’s maid had curled her pale blonde hair to perfection, piling it high on her head.
Mr Murray, the Duke’s butler, was already waiting for the small party at the top of the steps. He pulled the door open wide and held out an arm to indicate that they should enter.
“Good afternoon, Mr Allencourt,” the butler said with some warmth. “His Grace is ready to receive you in the drawing room.”
As they walked into the grand entrance, Georgina almost gasped. The entrance hall alone was almost as large as half her father’s house, and she could hardly believe that such places existed.
There was an immense staircase leading up to an open first-floor landing, creating quite a gallery above them. The ceilings were extraordinarily high, and Georgina could not help looking up in wonder.
All around the entrance hall hung great portraits of Dukes and Duchesses past, of children and their pet dogs and of the beautiful landscape of the grounds themselves. There were rich mahogany tables, each of which carried great vases of the most beautiful, vibrant flowers. There were so many that the scent was quite heady, and Georgina felt a little overwhelmed.
A small team of maids and footmen were waiting in the entrance hall, all ready to help the party off with their cloaks and bonnets and hats. Georgina had never been received in such a fashion in all her life, and she knew that she would never forget the experience.
“If you’ll follow me, ladies and gentlemen,” the butler said when they were all ready to move on.
Georgina walked into the drawing room with the same sense of wonder, thinking that it must be several times the size of the drawing room back home at Ashdown Manor. Although the walls were heavily panelled in dark oak, the windows were so large and the room so big that it did not seem at all imposing, but rather light and airy.
“Good afternoon, Mr Allencourt,” the Duke said, hurriedly rising to his feet and bowing to her father’s cousin. “I hope you are well.”
“Very well, Your Grace, I thank you,” Felix said and bowed with equal depth.
“And how nice to see you again, Master Allencourt.” The Duke smiled warmly at Jeremy who bowed and, mercifully, seemed set to behave himself for a while.
“Miss Allencourt, are you well?” Emerson Lockhart turned his attention upon Fleur.
“I am very well, Your Grace,” she said and bobbed neatly.
“And Miss Jeffries,” he said with a familiarity of tone that seemed to quietly take the whole family aback. “I am still reeling from our success at the bridge tables.” He laughed and turned to Felix. “Your cousin’s daughter is a very fine player, and I am certain that I would not have won a single hand in Lady Aston’s drawing room without her assistance.”
“Yes, she is indeed a very smart young woman,” Felix said and seemed to appreciate the compliment on her behalf.
All in all, they spent a very comfortable afternoon. The Duke seemed to be at his ease with the Allencourt family, and he had laid on an exceptional afternoon tea for them all.
Whilst he engaged them all equally, Georgina could not help thinking that she had, perhaps, garnered just a little more attention from him than the rest. She began to wonder if he really did have an interest in her and, if she was honest, the idea of it was quite thrilling.
She thought that she had never met a man with such a pleasing disposition, not to mention such a handsome face and that wonderful, unruly hair. And there was, of course, that ever-growing sense of familiarity, a sense that she could not entirely put down to their three previous meetings. It was something more than that, and yet she could not quite put her finger on it.
When the afternoon was over, and the family was being helped back into their cloaks and hats in the entrance hall, Emerson Lockhart had followed them out to bid them farewell. But he had saved his farewell to Georgina for last, keeping her back just a moment as the rest of her party began to descend the stone steps towards their waiting carriage.
“I have had a very pleasant afternoon, Miss Jeffries, and I thank you kindly for coming.”
“I have had a very fine afternoon too, Your Grace,” she said and inclined her head graciously in farewell before turning to make her own way down the steps.
When she heard him following along behind her and saw him stoop to retrieve something from the steps, she realized that she must have dropped one of her thin gloves from the pocket of her cloak. Just as she was about to turn to look at him fully and take the glove back, he quietly spoke to stop her.
“Georgie,” he said, and she spun around to look at him. “Forgive me.” He faltered for a moment. “Miss Jeffries, you dropped your glove,” he went on hurriedly, clearly realizing what he had said. “You must not leave without it, for I think the evening will draw down a little chilly.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said and, with a trembling hand, took the glove from him.
Although she realized that she would soon have to move since the rest of the party would almost be in the carriage by now, Georgina could not help but stand and stare at him for a moment.
Georgie, he had called her Georgie; she was sure he had. She studied his strong, handsome features and noted the look of consternation on his face.
Could it really be him? But how could it be?
She looked at his eyes and his nose and his chin, suddenly desperate to find a feature that she recognized. But she was trying to compare a fully-grown man to a young boy and trying to do so through the haze of many intervening years.
Surely it was not him, for how could it possibly be? And yet she had only ever known one person in all the world to call her Georgie. That person had not been Emerson Lockhart, surely.
The person who had called her Georgie so many years ago was Samuel White, and dear little Sammy had certainly not been heir to the Duchy of Calder.
Chapter 8
Georgina had kept to her own chamber for much of the next day, claiming a trifle of a headache that would soon be over, she was sure.
Fleur had been wonderfully attentive, and not so easy to persuade that the malady was a simple one which would undoubtedly be short-lived. But, after much promising that she would pull the bell in her chamber for assistance if she needed it, Georgina was finally left alone for a while, taking advantage of much-needed time in which to order her thoughts.
It was true that she had a very sleepless night thinking about it all, but she had come to no conclusion whatsoever. All she could do was think about her old friend, a boy she still thought of with sadness so many years later.
Georgina had grown up knowing that Sammy was there and had seemed always to have been there. He was the only other child in Ashdown Manor, although he did not live above stairs as she
did. Sammy was a servant, a child who had been orphaned as a baby and had somehow made his way into the home of her father, Lord Jeffries, the Baron.
As a child, Georgina had never asked for any further details, and as an adult, it had never occurred to her to seek such information. At the time, she had simply enjoyed her friendship for what it was, as children are want to do.
She did not allow the divisions of class to keep them apart, for in Samuel White lay her only hope of assuaging the loneliness she had not yet been old enough to even name, let alone recognize. All Georgina knew then was that she was very much happier in Sammy’s company than she was without it.
A Damsel for the Mysterious Duke Page 6
