by Mary Balogh
Georgiana had danced so much that she had not had a chance to see if everything was going smoothly in the card room. But Ralph had reassured her during the one set in which he had partnered her. And that had been a pleasant surprise. She had expected Ralph to be one of those men who had two left feet when it came to dancing. But he was a very good dancer. She had never had it more graceful partner.
Now the evening was almost over. After supper the card players would probably play another rubber, and the young people would dance a few more sets. The party had been a great success. And would be an even greater one. She drew in a deep breath and rose to her feet.
Ralph looked up in astonishment from the conversation he was having with a group of his neighbors. What was it that Georgiana had to say that made it necessary for her to call the attention of the whole gathering? She looked very flushed and very determined. And extremely pretty. He had been very proud of her all evening. She was the perfect hostess: sparkling with life, smiling at and talking to everyone. His fears that her shyness would make her unequal to the task of being hostess had very quickly been put to rest. Her training and her experience during the past Season in London had given her a poise in public that he had not expected. But what was she about now?
She wanted to make an announcement, she said, and what better time than now when they were surrounded by all their friends and neighbors? Ralph's eyes on her sharpened.
"Lord Chartleigh and I wish to announce officially the betrothal of Lady Gloria Middleton and the Reverend David Boscome," Georgiana said very clearly. "Now that her year of mourning is at an end, my sister-in-law is ready to proceed with the wedding plans. I believe you may all expect to hear the banns before Christmas."
She had no chance to say more. Delighted murmurings quickly developed into loud congratulations to the prospective bride and groom. Ralph did not look at either. He gazed, mesmerized, at his wife, who was smiling, her hands clasped against her chest. What, in heaven's name, had possessed her?
He was allowed to think no more. Sir Harold was pumping his hand and declaring that it was about time that marriage took place. Most of the vicar's parishioners were despairing of ever seeing Lady Gloria established at the vicarage. Ralph smiled and concentrated on saying everything that seemed appropriate for the next twenty minutes, until he deemed it time to begin the activities that would close the evening's entertainment. He withdrew to the library as soon as he decently could. He hoped no one would remark his absence but would merely assume that he was with the guests in the other room.
He slumped into his favorite leather chair and passed one hand across his eyes. He had a feeling of uncontrollable disaster, such as he had known occasionally as a child. Sometimes one did something so wrong that one could not put it right again but just had to prepare oneself for the consequences. There was that time, for example, when he had forgotten to close a gate that he.had been warned about numerous times, and all the cows got out into the corn. The worst of it had been that he was the one to discover the fact, yet had been totally unable to round up all the animals and herd them back into the field where they belonged. That particular thrashing he had received from his father had been all the worse for the long anticipation he had had to suffer.
There would be no thrashing for this. But in fact it was many times worse than letting out cows from a field. An announcement had been made in an appallingly public manner and it would affect the lives of several people quite drastically. Gloria and Boscome would now be almost forced into matrimony whether they truly wished it or not. He believed that they did, but that was quite beside the point at the moment. Everyone for miles around Chartleigh now knew about the impending marriage. Yet Mama in London knew nothing. She would be furious! Ralph remembered the opposition she had put up against the betrothal in the first place. The daughter of an earl was simply throwing herself away by marrying a vicar, a mere younger son. She had succeeded in postponing the wedding for so long that he had assumed that the engagement no longer existed.
How would poor Gloria break the news to her? He must do it himself, of course. Now that the deed was done, he must assume responsibility for it. It had been his idea. Clearly Gloria was determined either to marry Boscome or to die an old maid. She was six-and-twenty already. She did not need anyone's permission to marry, but the truth was that duty to their mother had held her back from her own happiness. Well, he was Chartleigh now, head of the family, as Georgiana had pointed out to him a week or so ago. He must convince both Gloria and his mother that the initiative had been his, that he was asserting his headship of the family.
It was an appalling thought. He had always found it hard to confront his mother face-to-face. On those occasions when he had been determined to defy her, such as on the topic of the rebuilding of the laborers' cottages, he had done so quietly, leaving her to assume that she had won the victory. Well, perhaps it was time that he learned to assert himself more openly. His love and respect for his mother did not blind him to the fact that she was on occasion quite selfish. Most parents would have recognized by this time that Gloria's attachment to Boscome was no trivial matter. Perhaps it really was a situation in which he had every right, even a duty, to assert his position.
In fact, perhaps Georgiana had done him a favor. She had certainly forced him into taking matters into his own hands. And thinking about Georgiana, what on earth had possessed her to do such a thing? He was quite certain that Gloria had expected the announcement as little as he. It had been such an indiscreet announcement, yet it had obviously been deliberate. She had stood before the whole gathering and called everyone's attention.
It seemed so out of character for his sweet little Georgiana to be so bold. And bold about such a matter! If the announcement was to be made at all, it was he or Boscome who should have made it. Surely all his guests must be thinking it quite peculiar that his bride had been the one chosen to make public such news. Why had she done so?
Ralph pondered the matter for several minutes before getting to his feet. He was smiling when he did so. He left the room with some reluctance. His guests would be beginning to leave soon. He could not allow the discourtesy of his absence to be noticed.
CHAPTER 7
GEORGIANA MEANWHILE had been suffering agonies since supper. She had noticed Ralph slip away to the library and consequently decided to play the hostess more conscientiously than she had done all evening. She moved from card salon to drawing room, making sure that everyone was occupied and happy. She did not dance. And now, when she no longer wanted the leisure in which to think, she found that she had plenty of it. And the thoughts came thick and fast.
And not one of them pleasant!
What, in heaven's name, had she done now? It had seemed such a famous idea when she had had it at the dinner table, to force everyone's hand by making a public announcement. It was only as she was making it that she had realized just how irrevocable it was. What if Gloria did not truly wish for the match? What if the six-year delay had really been of her own making? What if the Reverend Boscome did not really wish it? What if he was secretly quite comfortable with his bachelor existence? She had really left them little choice now but to marry. She might have just doomed them to eternal unhappiness.
That was nonsense, of course, she told herself briskly. Of course they wished to be wed. One had only to look at them to see how devoted they were. They were not by any means a handsome pair. Gloria's features were somewhat harsh; she certainly did not share her brother's beauty. And Mr. Boscome was a very ordinary man, his sandy hair already thinning on top. But they loved each other. She must not begin doubting that.
But would they be very angry at what she had done? Would they feel humiliated at having the organizing of their affairs taken from their hands?
And what must all these people around her be thinking? They had all seemed genuinely delighted by her announcement. In fact, even Gloria and the vicar had not looked outwardly displeased or discomposed. They had come together after he
r words and received the congratulations of the guests with composure. But would not those guests already be wondering why she, a new and young bride, should have been entrusted with so momentous an announcement? Would they not be considering how improper it was that it had not been Ralph who had spoken?
And how, in the name of heaven, had she had the nerve to get up in front of all those strangers, who were to be her neighbors for the rest of her life, and tell such an out-and-out lie? Oh, she was a hopeless case. Papa was perfectly right about her. All those horrid names he had ever called her were true. She could at least have waited for another occasion, given herself time to think out the implications of what she was going to do. Papa would surely beat her in earnest if he were here now and had witnessed the very improper and embarrassing spectacle she had made of herself.
What would the countess have to say when they returned to London next week? The dowager countess, that was. Georgiana herself was now the countess. Everyone seemed to stand in such awe of her mother-in-law. Georgiana had had an impression of an overweight, self-indulgent complainer before the wedding, but both Ralph and Gloria seemed to find it difficult to stand up to her. And Georgiana was to be part of her household when she returned to London. She would have to account for this night's work. No, Georgiana thought defiantly, smiling at Miss Dobb and nodding that yes, indeed, there was time for just one more set, she would not be a part of her mother-in-law's household. The dowager would be part of hers. She had not cringed before anyone in her life. She was not about to start now.
Her eyes alighted on Ralph as this thought was passing through her mind. Fortunately, the whole width of the drawing room was between them, and he walked on past toward the salon. It was of Ralph she should be thinking most. Now what had she done to him? She had set herself more than a week before to try to restore his sense of manhood. And what had she done? She had gone right over his head and done something that only he had a right to do. She had made a public announcement, a family announcement, in the name of Lord Chartleigh. And she had probably made him look quite foolish in the eyes of his neighbors, who might think that he did not have the courage to speak for himself but must engage his wife to do so. She had done it again!
He must be very furious with her! What would he do when everyone had left? He was far too well-bred to reprimand her publicly, of course. But afterward. Would he yell at her as Papa always did? Threaten to beat her? Actually beat her? She could not imagine Ralph angry. She certainly could not picture him being violent. But the provocation had been great. At the very least, he would doubtless tell her that he had been deceived in her and was sorry that he had married her. She did not want him to be sorry.
Well, she thought, if he was so mean-spirited as to say that, she would stick her chin in the air and tell him quite coolly that she was disappointed in him and was sorry she had married him. After all, if he were a real man, he would have insisted long ago that his sister be allowed to marry the man of her choice. And he would have told his mother where she might take her whinings and complainings. She was indeed sorry to be married to such a meek and mild man. What would all these people think if they knew the true state of her marriage: unconsummated because the Earl of Chartleigh had taken fright in her bedchamber on their wedding night?
By the time the dancing came to an end a few minutes later, Georgiana had worked herself into a comforting indignation against the whole of the Middleton family, Ralph in particular. Even so, she slipped away guiltily to bed after bidding the last of her guests good night. Ralph was still busy instructing the butler and the footmen to leave the tidying up of the drawing room and salon until the morning. She was relieved to note that Gloria had not lingered to be confronted that night. Perhaps it would be easier to face them both after a half-night's sleep.
***
Georgiana was standing before the mirror in her room, humming tunelessly to herself as she brushed her hair, when Ralph came into her room. He did knock but did not wait for an answer. She had no time to compose herself. She faced him with jaw hanging and brush dangling from one limp hand.
"Am I disturbing you, Georgiana?" he asked cautiously.
Georgiana snapped her jaws together. She peered suspiciously at her husband. Papa sometimes began on her that way too, with deceptive mildness. Well, she certainly was not about to play cat and mouse with Ralph. He was not nearly such a formidable adversary as Papa.
"I was about ready for bed," she replied, "but you may as well say your piece now, Ralph. About the announcement I made regarding Gloria and the Reverend Boscome, I believe?" Her chin went up. There was a martial gleam in her eye.
Ralph came across the room and took both her hands in his. He smiled down at her. "Dear Georgiana," he said. "Putting the welfare of others before your own comfort.'
"Eh?" Georgiana was surprised into extreme inelegance.
"What a brave wife I have," he continued. "You quite put me to shame, Georgiana. It must have taken you days to gather the courage to do what you did this evening.”
"You are not angry?" she asked, frowning suspiciously.
"I am very proud of you," he said, squeezing her hands tightly. "You have seen in the last week and a half how unsatisfactory is the situation between Gloria and David Boscome. And you saw that the only remedy was to force the issue. It must have been very dreadful for you to get up as you did before all our neighbors, dear, and say what you did. I am deeply touched at the love you have shown for my sister."
"Oh," Georgiana said. What he said was all true. But he made her sound so heroic. Had her deed really been so splendidly selfless? Perhaps it had. Yes, it really had taken some courage to do what she had done. She smiled tentatively at Ralph, who had had the intelligence to recognize the truth.
"Come and sit down for a while," he said very gently, releasing one hand and leading her to the daybed. He sat down beside her, retaining his hold on her other hand. "I do wish you had come to me before the party, Georgiana, and taken me into your confidence."
"You would have stopped me," she said. "It was because no one seemed to want to do anything that I acted as I did."
"We could have talked to Gloria and Boscome and asked if they wished for such an announcement," he said. "They might well have said yes. And they would have been better prepared for the flood of congratulations."
"Oh, Ralph, you know that Gloria would have felt it necessary to consult your mother first, and the Reverend Boscome would have bowed to her wishes, and you would have been afraid to offend the countess -the dowager," Georgiana said.
Ralph frowned briefly. "Perhaps you are right," he said, "and I certainly meant it when I said that I am proud of you. But you are very young, Georgiana. So am I. Is it right of us, do you suppose, to presume that we know what is right for others and to try to organize their lives so that they have little choice about the course they take?"
"Oh!" Georgiana shook off his hand and rose indignantly to her feet. "I see what you are about, Ralph Middleton. You are just like Papa, only worse. At least Papa yells and shows his disapproval in no uncertain terms. I know where I stand with him. You think to lull me like a child with your soft words of approval. But you are scolding me just the same. You are telling me that what I did was wrong and thoughtless. Why do you not at least be honest about it? Shout at me. Threaten to beat me."
"Georgians!" Ralph was on his feet too, his face pale and clearly distressed. "Please. I did not mean to hurt you. I do not feel at all angry with you. And how could I threaten you even if I did? You are a person, and my wife. I would never offer violence to any person, especially not to a woman, and to the very woman I have undertaken to protect and cherish for the rest of my life."
"You see!" she accused. To her annoyance she felt hot tears blurring her eyes. "You are doing it again. You think that because you use gentle words you will not hurt. But it is just through your gentleness that you wound the most. One feels a fiend in opposing you. You make me feel wretched. Here I am, quite overwrought
and speaking far too loudly, and all you do is stand there and look Her hand circled the air. "Dismayed."
She turned away sharply, breathing deeply in an attempt to bring herself under control and to prevent the tears from spilling over. She felt foolish. How could one argue satisfactorily with a man who refused to get angry and yell back? She felt two warm hands take her by the shoulders and draw her back against a lean body.
"Georgiana," he said very quietly into her ear. "I am sorry, my dear. Indeed I am. I did not intend to make
you feel guilty about what you did tonight. You were so wonderfully brave and unselfish. I merely wished to point out that you are young and eager and impulsive. I love those qualities in you. But sometimes they can get one into trouble. I am very unfeeling and clumsy with words. I did not mean at all to accuse. Please believe me.”
Georgiana sniffed. "I know I should not have made that stupid announcement," she said. "It was just that… Oh, I know I was wrong, Ralph. I didn't need you to point that out to me." Her voice sounded appallingly high and thin to her own ears.
He turned her in his arms. Concern made his face look even more gentle than usual, Georgiana noticed as she scrubbed impatiently at her eyes with a handkerchief.
"Oh, my dear," he said, looking deep into her eyes, "I have not made you cry, have I? I am very angry with myself. I have been so very proud all this evening to know that you are my wife. I wanted to tell you that. I truly do not deserve you, Georgiana."
"Who could be proud of me?" Georgiana sniffed against her handkerchief. She was suffering from a very satisfying attack of self-pity. "I can never do the right thing. I always get into the horridest scrapes. But I think this one is worse than usual."
"Georgiana!" he said softly. "Oh, my sweetest love. Don't do this to yourself. Hush now." He cupped her face in his hands and gazed searchingly into her eyes. "Come. Smile at me. Don't punish me with these tears."
