by Mary Balogh
“We watched from the bushes at the end of the evening," he said, "and she had both. It was vastly entertaining."
"I wish I could have seen it," Georgiana said. "I know the lady and she certainly lacks sympathy for other people's weaknesses. 'Hard-minded female' would have been a more apt description, I believe."
Lord Beauchamp was in high good humor and soon had her dimpling and protesting against his teasing. What could have been happening to his dear Lady Chartleigh, he wondered, that she was looking so satisfied with herself and so starry-eyed these days? If he were her husband, he would consider the matter worth investigating.
Stanley had written his name next to a waltz. He knew the steps, Georgiana discovered, though he danced without flair. She resigned herself to a dull half-hour, wishing that she were dancing with some of the more accomplished partners around them.
"I am onto your game, you know, Georgiana," Stanley said quietly, close to her ear.
"What?" she said.
"I am onto your game," he repeated. "I know what you are up to."
She drew her head back and looked into his face, startled.
"Did you think I had not recognized you?" he asked. "That was a fond hope. The street was deserted except for the two of us. Of course I saw you."
"When?" she asked, looking mystified. She knew immediately that it was a stupid reaction.
His eyes were cold as he looked back at her. "The night you were on your way to an assignation with my cousin," he said very distinctly.
"With your cousin!" she said. "You mean Roger? How absurd, Stanley. Of course I was doing no such thing.
"You cannot bluff your way out of this," he said. "Do you think I am quite stupid? I was not certain beyond any doubt that it was you. And when I followed you, I was not quite certain that the carriage was Roger's. I waited for three more nights before I saw you again. And that time-it was just two nights ago-I was ready to follow your carriage. I know Roger has a house in Kensington where he takes his ladybirds. Of whom you are one, Georgiana."
"Oh, no," she said urgently. "You are mistaken, Stanley.
"You are a liar," he said, "among other things. I will never understand why Mama chose you for Ralph. From all I have heard of you, you have been a troublemaker and a man-chaser since you have been in London. And you have not changed. Poor Ralph. He may be older than I, but he knows a great deal less about life. He probably has no notion that he is being cuckolded."
"No," she said. "You misunderstand the situation entirely." Could they be having this mad encounter and still be performing the steps of the waltz? she wondered.
"And by Roger," he continued as if she had not spoken. "Roger has always run after every skirt within sight, but I did not think that even he would stoop this low."
"There is nothing whatsoever between me and Roger, Stanley," Georgiana said firmly, trying to take charge of the situation. "You should be sure of your facts before making such accusations. I hope you have said nothing of this to anyone else."
"You would like that, would you not?" he said. "And the worst of it is, Georgiana, that you may get your wish. Ralph and I are very different, but he is my brother, and I do love him. I do not believe he would be able to cope with the knowledge of what you are."
"I love Ralph too," she said haughtily. "And you are not to interfere between me and him, Stanley."
"God, how I loathe you," he said. "You are a slut and a whore."
Georgiana pushed blindly against his shoulder and dodged her way through the dancers in the direction of the doorway. She had only one thought: to reach the ladies' withdrawing room before she disgraced herself by vomiting all over the floor in public. She succeeded' but only just in time. She felt as if her whole stomach were going to come up, as well as its contents. She was dabbing at her clammy face with a lace handkerchief when her mother came rushing into the room.
"Georgie!" she exclaimed. "Whatever happened, child? Your papa was furious when he saw you leave the dance floor in that scandalous haste. He was convinced you had quarreled with your brother-in-law and were airing your differences for all the world to see. But I knew it might be that you were unwell. Poor baby. Is it something you ate?"
"I think it must be," Georgiana said shakily as her mother fussed around her, bringing a wet cloth from the pitchers of water that stood on a stand against the wall.
Ralph was pacing outside the room when they left it a few minutes later, and rushed to assist her to an anteroom attached to the ballroom. He was sitting beside her holding one of her hands while her mother was soaking a handkerchief in eau de cologne when the dowager Lady Chartleigh came bustling in, followed by Gloria.
"Roth keeps the house far too warm," she said. "I have been telling Gloria this half-hour past that I feet quite faint. I am not at all surprised that you do not feel quite the thing, Georgiana dear. You have not stopped dancing. Yes, that will be just the thing, Lady Lansbury. Do you need my vinaigrette, dear?"
“Georgie is not faint," her mother explained. "She has an upset stomach. Something she ate at dinner, doubtless."
The dowager's manner changed instantly. She seated herself in a vacant chair and smirked at her son and daughter-in-law. "Then why is it that all of us are not ill?" she asked archly. "We all ate the same dishes. I would wager there is some other cause."
Georgiana, who was responding to the comfort of Ralph's hand and shoulder pressed against her own and beginning to feel the blood return to her head, looked up sharply.
"I do believe, Lady Lansbury," her mother-in-law continued, smiling broadly, "that it may not be a great length or time before you and I will be changing our status to that of grandmama. Gracious, how old that does make me feel. Shall we hope for a boy the first time."
Ralph's hand closed rather tightly around Georgiana's. He looked acutely embarrassed, she saw in one fleeting peep up at him. She did not know quite where to look or what to say. She said nothing. Neither did Ralph.
"For sure, I suppose it is possible," Lady Lansbury said. "I did not even think of it. Is it true, Georgie? But there, we must not press the matter. You will let us know as soon as you are sure, which you may not be at the moment, I daresay."
"Shall I summon the carriage, dear?" Ralph asked her. "Or would you prefer to sit quietly here for a while? Perhaps you would like a drink."
"Yes, I should like that, please," she said, smiling up at him in gratitude. "Will you sit here with me for a while, Ralph? I am so sorry to have been silly. I do not know what came over me."
The older ladies stayed with her until Ralph returned with a glass of cold water and then left them alone. She felt very depressed as he settled himself beside her again and took the hand that was not holding the glass. It was all over, then, this happy part of her life. She would not be able to keep up the Kensington visits with Stanley spying on her. She would have to tell Ralph the truth and risk his anger or his humiliation or whatever other emotion he would feel when he knew of the terrible trick she had been playing on him for more than a month. If she did not tell him soon, Stanley might well do so.
She should tell him now. It was the obvious course to take. There was nothing to be gained by delay. Besides, she was becoming more convinced that her mother-in-law was probably right. She could never remember vomiting in her life. Ralph was silent beside her, perhaps feeling that she needed quietness. She should just open her mouth and let the words come out. But it was so good sitting here beside him, feeling his concern for her health. She felt tired, too tired to cope with the emotions that would be unleashed by her words. She leaned her head sideways against his shoulder and felt comforted. She closed her eyes.
***
Vera Burton was unaware that her sister had been taken ill. So was Lord Beauchamp. They had withdrawn from the dance before she made her very public exit.
They had started to waltz, but Vera had twice accused her partner of drawing her indecently close during the turns.
"If I did not do so, ma'am," he repli
ed, "you might spin off in a direction quite different from mine. Imagine how very conspicuous you would feel if that happened."
"A waltz does not have to be danced as if it were a flat-out gallop along an open green, my lord," the usually docile Vera said tartly. "I believe you quite deliberately turn fast just so that you may have the excuse to draw me close. I find the experience quite repugnant."
"Do you?" he said. "I can hardly blame you. I do believe the tips of your breasts actually brushed against my coat for the smallest fraction of a second. Scandalous goings-on indeed, ma'am. Enough to give a maiden of the strongest constitution the vapors. Would you like to swoon quite away and give me the pleasure of carrying you off the floor?"
"I do not know why I even consented to dance with you," Vera said. "You never do anything but insult me, sir."
"I?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "Insult you? You malign me. Did I say that I shrank from contact with your breasts? On the contrary, my dear. I felt a distinct thrill of desire."
"You are insufferable!" she said, her cheeks aflame. "Return me to my mother immediately, sir."
He stopped dancing, made her a mock bow, and offered his arm. But he led her to an alcove across which curtains almost met.
"If I returned you to your mama in your present agitated state," he said, "she would do me the injustice of agreeing with you. Besides, this seems to me to be an excellent opportunity to discover just what those lips really do taste like."
"Don't you dare touch me," Vera said, backing away from him into the alcove. "You… you rake!"
He threw back his head and laughed. "Tell me," he said, "why are your cheeks flaming quite so red and why is your bosom heaving as if you had just run several miles? Is it all outrage, or is it partly excitement? If you are totally honest with yourself, do you find that perhaps you want to be kissed? I find it hard to believe that what I am feeling can be entirely one-sided."
He had been moving toward her so that he now stood directly in front of her. She stood flat against the wall, tier hands splayed against its surface on either side of her. She stared up at him, her eyes wide, and said nothing.
He laughed more softly. "You are incurably honest, are you not, Vera?" he said. "You cannot deny your own feelings of desire, yet you would not for the world admit them. So you stand mute."
"I will not be trifled with," she said. "I will not be used for your amusement so that you can boast of your conquest of an aging, plain spinster. I will not." Her voice was trembling.
"Vera!" he said. "Are you talking about yourself? Aging? How old are you? Two-and-twenty? Three? Four? My next birthday takes me into the next decade, you know. And plain? I might have agreed with you after our first meeting, though your eyes have always set your appearance above the ordinary. But it is some time since I have even had any reservations about calling you beautiful. Your fashionable new hairstyle has greatly changed your appearance. You cultivate a prim expression that tends to make one assume you are plain. But any sort of emotion transforms you into a quite remarkable beauty. And I do frequently arouse emotion in you, even if only indignation, do I not, my dear?"
"Don't," she said. "Don't make mock of me."
He shook his head slowly. "I don't," he said. "And I do not trifle with you. I want to kiss you. May P"
"Will it make any difference if I say no?" she asked, some bitterness in her voice. "You will do as you please anyway."
"I will tease you and shock you to my heart's content," he said, "because I suspect that doing so brings me closer to the real Vera. But I will not interfere with your person against your will. Had you not realized that about me?"
She shook her head. "I am not used to light flirtation," she said, "and I make no apology for my lack of experience."
He smiled. "You are procrastinating, ma'am," he said. "Will you be kissed?"
"Yes," she said almost defiantly. "Yes, I want you to kiss me."
She came into his arms and held up her face to his. He gazed into her eyes, which were looking full into his.
"Ah, you feel right," he said. "Slender and yielding. Now, how do they taste, Vera?"
He lowered his head and opened his mouth over hers. She jerked back in some shock, but when he waited for her without moving, she lifted her arms up around his neck and put her lips against his again. And she gave herself up to his embrace, allowing him to bite at her lips, to part them with his tongue, and to take possession of her mouth. Instinctively, without thought, she arched her body to his. She lost touch with her surroundings.
Roger did not. He broke the embrace slowly after a couple of minutes. "Mmm," he murmured, his mouth against her ear. "Every bit as tasty as I suspected. God, how I want you."
"It I might interrupt!" a clipped voice said from the opening in the curtain.
Vera pushed in panic against Roger's chest. Lord Beauchamp himself turned lazily.
"Ah, Stanley," he said. "You have damnable timing, my kid. Can you not see that I am occupied with important business at the moment?"
"You are all too frequently involved in important business, Roger," Stanley said coldly. "When one wants to talk to you, one just has to interrupt. You are usually occupied with the sister, though, are you not?"
Roger's eyes narrowed on his cousin. "Your meaning, my boy?" he asked.
"You are pawing one sister almost in full view of a roomful of people," Stanley said, "and bedding the other in secret."
"I think," Roger said languidly, turning and taking Vera lightly by the elbow, "that we should not bore Miss Burton with this strange conversation, Stanley. Perhaps we can talk later? Or tomorrow? Come, ma'am, I shall help you find your mama."
"What do you mean?" Vera was very white. Her eyes were fixed on Stanley.
"He is an impudent pup, ma'am, who has not been taught how to behave in society," Roger said, grasping her elbow more firmly and trying to steer her past his cousin.
"What do you mean, sir?" Vera asked, trying to shake her arm free of Roger's grasp.
"I mean that Lord Beauchamp"-Stanley spat out the name-"keeps my sister-in-law and your sister as his mistress. That is what I mean, ma'am."
"Do try not to make a complete idiot of yourself, my dear lad," Roger said pleasantly. "Obviously you are under some misapprehension. We will discuss this alone. It is very bad ton, you know, to have alluded to such a matter in the presence of a lady. I see you need a lesson in manners."
"How can you make such an allegation against my sister?" Vera asked. She was even whiter than before, if that were possible. "What is your evidence?"
"I have seen her with my own eyes," Stanley said, "leaving home at eleven o'clock and being driven away in Roger's carriage. And I have followed her and seen her enter a house in Kensington that Roger owns and uses for his dealings with women. It does not take a great deal of intelligence to draw a conclusion."
"And you would be wrong, Stanley," Roger said wearily. "Damnably wrong, my boy."
"Is it true?" Vera turned to him with wide eyes and trembling lips. "Has Georgie been going to your house?"
He closed his eyes briefly. "Yes," he said, "it is true. And now there is no point in my saying any more, is there? You will already have drawn the same conclusion as this young hothead. And I cannot say I blame you. I can only suggest that you confront your sister with your knowledge."
Vera gazed at him a moment longer. Then her hand flashed out in a stinging slap across one cheek. "You are despicable," she said. "Despicable! You are even lower than I thought. 'Rake' is too good a word to describe you."
She gathered her skirts in her hands and rushed from the alcove. Lord Beauchamp made no move to follow her. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at his cousin. He ignored the stinging welt across his cheek.
"You young fool!" he said contemptuously. "If you have such a filthy suspicion, damn you, can you not wait until you can confront me with it without involving an innocent female? Even for one so young, I find your behavior quite unforgivable. One does
not discuss such matters before ladies, Stanley. I have a mind to take a whip to your hide."
Stanley flushed painfully. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides. He nodded his head. "Oh yes," he said, "it is a nice try, Roger. You think you can throw my youth in my face. You think you can
make my talking openly before Miss Burton the main issue here. Quite frankly, I don't care a damn that she knows. She has a right to know just so that she may ovoid being next on your list. But the main point here is your affair with my brother's wife. It has to end."
"Stop behaving like a prize ass, Stanley," Lord Beauchamp said. "As it happens, I have never had so much as a carnal thought about Georgie. But even if I had, even if I were in the middle of a hot affair with her, do you think I would put an end to it merely because I was ordered to do so by a headstrong young puppy? Go back to the dancing, my boy, and leave your brother and his wife to run their own affairs. And me to take care of mine."
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders and made to walk past Stanley. But his cousin stepped across to stand in his way, determination in his face.
"No," he said. "I came here to deal with this matter. I have no wish for my brother to know the truth, and I am not sure he would do anything decisive about it even if he did. I must deal with you myself."
Roger looked bored. "Oh no, youngster," he said. "You are not about to throw a glove in my face, are you? But I notice with relief that you do not have one."
"You will meet me nevertheless," Stanley said. "Name your weapons and your seconds, Beauchamp. Or own yourself a coward to the world."
"Oh, really, Stan, my lad," Roger said, "You would leave immediately if you just knew what a very amusing spectacle you make at the moment."
"You are a scoundrel and a rake and a damned wife stealer," Stanley said. "And this time you have chosen a suitable partner. My sister-in-law, the Countess of Chartleigh, as I have just finished telling her, is a liar and a slut and a whore."
