An Elegant Façade (Hawthorne House Book #2)

by Kristi Ann Hunter

  Lady Miranda’s eyes widened.

  Colin bit back a laugh. The gentlemen with him were probably known to her only by sight. While of higher rank than Colin, they were even less popular, invited to even out numbers or fill the ranks with less eligible gentlemen.

  Their popularity, or lack thereof, could have something to do with their insistence on dwelling in corners.

  “How do you do, Lady Miranda?” Colin bit his cheek to keep from grinning. “I was just telling Mr. Craven and Sir Robert about a shipping company I’m involved in. Very dry conversation, I’m afraid.”

  Lady Georgina scowled at him, no doubt angry that he’d circumvented her plan to embarrass her sister. Lady Miranda gave him a grateful smile for rescuing her.

  He wished he were noble enough that saving Lady Miranda from potential embarrassment had been enough to motivate him, but the lady’s honor had been a distant second thought in his mind. No, if he were honest, his goal had everything to do with getting under the skin of said lady’s younger sister. Hammering at Lady Georgina’s carefully constructed shell was too entertaining to pass up.

  Admittedly, his actions toward the young lady were far from charitable, but did Georgina really deserve his charity? He’d rather reserve that for people in truly dire circumstances, not spoiled misses who didn’t get the dancing partner they wanted.

  He gave Lady Miranda a wink, further irking Lady Georgina.

  Lady Miranda smiled and said, “I’m afraid I know nothing of shipping.” The names he provided must have reminded her of past dealings, because Lady Miranda turned to the other gentlemen with a confident smile. “Mr. Craven, how is your sister? She married last year?”

  The man with the thinning hair beamed. “Yes, she did. Doing splendidly. I hear from her occasionally.” After an uncomfortable beat of silence, Mr. Craven turned to his companion. “Sir Robert, do you fancy a game of faro? I believe they are starting one in the library.”

  Colin held back a sigh as he watched the other men depart. They’d become accustomed to being ignored at these gatherings, and anyone of higher rank intimidated them, particularly the women.

  Why did they come to these events in the first place if they weren’t going to take full advantage of the opportunities presented?

  Not that either of these ladies presented much of an opportunity. The majority of ladies in attendance weren’t potential marriage partners, but that was one of the things that had to be endured for success.

  And Colin needed success. Success brought money, and money brought the ability to help others and secure a future for his family. Most of the time that was enough.

  He smiled at the sisters. “I suppose that leaves me to entertain two lovely ladies. Might I retrieve you a bit of refreshment? Or procure you a seat at a table?”

  “No, thank you.” Lady Georgina’s graceful shell was back in place. She almost sounded civil. “I see someone I must speak with. Pardon me.”

  Colin held in a laugh as she turned and walked through the door. She must have the ability to see through walls if she saw someone in the other room to speak to.

  His suppressed laughter made his smile a bit too big as he looked at Lady Miranda. “Do you need to speak with them as well?”

  She smiled in return. “I believe I am good where I am, thank you.”

  Colin almost nodded in approval. “I am pleased to finally meet you.”

  “Finally, Mr. McCrae?”

  Colin leaned into the corner, forcing her to turn her back to a good portion of the room and the numerous people who she would no doubt find more interesting than him. He might never get a chance to get to know her again, and if Ryland was making a mistake, Colin would rather know it now than after the wedding.

  Not that he could change Ryland’s mind. Colin’s powers of persuasion weren’t quite that good. “I’ve heard about you.”

  “All good things, I hope.” Her smile wasn’t as perfect as Lady Georgina’s, but it held an air of authenticity the Duchess of Ice had never possessed.

  “But of course.”

  “Hmmm.” Skepticism danced across her face, but she didn’t challenge him. “Have you sat down to a game of whist yet this evening?”

  “Sadly, no, I’m afraid I’ve been too deep in discussions since I arrived. Should we find a table and sit down to a game?” He started to offer her his arm, but a shadow falling across the wall beside him stopped his movement. He turned to see Ryland had appeared, crossing the room with his usual stealth. What was he doing here? And sporting a glorious discoloration around one eye, no less. Colin made a mental note to never spar with Lord Trent.

  Lady Miranda and Ryland greeted each other—her with veiled hostility, and him with bored austerity designed to irk her further.

  If these two ever found their way to the altar it would be a miracle.

  Without warning, Lady Miranda pulled Colin back into the conversation. “Mr. McCrae, may I present His Grace, the Duke of Marshington? Your Grace, this is Mr. McCrae.”

  Ryland bowed his head. “A pleasure, sir.”

  Obviously no one had seen fit to tell Lady Miranda that Colin had been the one to see Ryland home the other day. Since Ryland wasn’t correcting Lady Miranda’s assumption, Colin wouldn’t either. He didn’t want to hinder any plan the man had. “The honor is mine, Your Grace.”

  As he executed the appropriate bow, a billow of white rejoined their circle. Lady Georgina. Of course she would find the most eligible bachelor in the place and be so wrapped in her own plans that she wouldn’t notice the tension between that bachelor and her own sister.

  Shameful.

  “You looked in need of a rescue, dear sister. You couldn’t possibly partner both of these fine gentlemen in a game of cards.”

  Colin groaned, but the other three people ignored him. He was going to have to play cards with a couple of spatting lovebirds and the white witch who wanted to split them up for her own grasping, nefarious purposes.

  Resigned to his fate, he claimed Lady Miranda as a partner. He might have to sit with the conniving lass, but he refused to help her win anything.

  The situation should have been perfect. The card table was situated to the side of the drawing room, away from most of the raucous laughter and disgruntled murmurs of the other card games. Georgina’s back was to most of the attendees, which should have framed her well as a beacon of light in the midst of chaos. She was seated across from the Duke of Marshington at a card game that, if played carefully, could last for nearly an hour.

  Yes, it should have been perfect.

  If only Miranda wasn’t ruining everything. Her sour frown indicated she was going to make this an unpleasant game.

  As the duke settled himself in the chair across the table, Georgina relaxed her face into a pleasant half smile, lowering her lashes so she could examine her target without anyone noticing. Wherever he’d been hiding for the past nine years, he’d taken care of himself. Everyone was talking about him since his surprise return. Handsome, mysterious, powerful.

  No one would dare cross his wife when he married.

  He was perfect for her needs. Irritating sister or not, Georgina had to make the most of this opportunity.

  Mr. McCrae dealt the cards with a sure hand, a slight tilt to one corner of his mouth. Odious man. Why did it always feel like he was laughing at her? As if he knew a secret joke and she were the subject.

  The first two tricks were played in silence, broken only by the occasional overloud laughter from a nearby card table or the clink of glassware from the passing servants. Georgina considered and discarded many topics of conversation. The right topic could be the key to landing a successful match.

  Miranda started the next round of cards.

  “Fishing for something, are you?” the duke asked with a tap of his cards on the table.

  “I beg your pardon!” Miranda sat up straighter in her chair, outraged.

  Georgina cast a glance around to see if Miranda’s outburst had drawn undue n
otice to their table. The duke’s attention was certainly on the elder Hawthorne sister, which was not where Georgina wanted it. Georgina loved her sister. Sometimes she even liked her. But if Miranda’s refusal to marry had proven anything, it was that she did not need the social protection of a powerful marriage.

  “You aren’t supposed to discuss the cards, Your Grace.” Georgina gave him her best smile, the one she’d practiced for hours in front of a mirror. The one that had sent countless men scrambling for the refreshment table at the mere mention she might be thirsty.

  The one that did absolutely no good now.

  “My apologies,” the duke said as Mr. McCrae slid the knave onto the pile. After a moment, the duke flicked the ace onto the table.

  Since the duke had won the trick, Georgina gathered up the cards and added them to the stack the pair of them had already won. Neither he nor Miranda seemed to notice. They were talking about the card game as if it were a matter of great importance.

  “You’re going to rip that card,” a low voice said in Georgina’s ear.

  Georgina released the cards immediately, her gaze flying to Mr. McCrae’s clear blue eyes. “I will do no such thing.”

  She winced at the ridiculousness of her words. The wrinkles and dents of the cards bore witness to her rough treatment of them.

  “Is the game not going well for you?” Mr. McCrae looked across the table to where Miranda and the duke were having some bizarre conversation about how to play cards. Miranda should know better. A lady never discussed strategy with a man, particularly in public.

  Georgina turned back to Mr. McCrae. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve two tricks to your team’s one.”

  His laugh was low and seemed to flow over her, raising the hair on her arm between her gloves and sleeve. “A bit of advice? You need to learn to evaluate the whole game, not just the cards in front of you.”

  Georgina had the uneasy feeling he was talking about more than whist. Did he know something? Did he know about her? He couldn’t possibly know her secret, but he did seem to be everywhere, toting around that abominable confidence that he was welcome anywhere, despite his low station. Had he blackmailed his way into society? Perhaps he was trying to find something with which to manipulate her, or worse, Griffith.

  The muscles in Georgina’s neck and back tightened, pulling her shoulders into a painfully tense position. That would explain why he always seemed to be laughing at her. If he knew . . .

  The duke slid his card onto the table. A foolish choice considering the cards played in the last trick.

  Willing the tension, or at least any visible appearance of it, away from her shoulders, she smiled at her partner. No matter how hard Mr. McCrae looked, he’d never find anything. She and Harriette were too careful. “That was not well played, Your Grace, but you’ve been away from civilized gatherings for a while, so I won’t complain.”

  Miranda spent a great deal of time contemplating her cards before playing the king on top of the duke’s queen.

  Frustration filled Georgina. Did her sister know nothing about men? They had two brothers and she hadn’t learned yet that men were considerably more amiable when you let them win? It was all well and good for Miranda to put off every eligible suitor who tried to court her, but she wasn’t the only Hawthorne seeking marriage this year.

  Georgina needed to rectify things now. “How unkind, Miranda, for you to take advantage of His Grace’s blunder.”

  Miranda raised her eyebrows, keeping her gaze on the duke in a most unnerving stare. Georgina was really going to have to talk to their mother. Miranda was losing all her poise as she attained spinsterhood.

  Mr. McCrae coughed, though it sounded almost like a sputter as he collected the winning hand.

  He contemplated her as he neatened the small pile of cards. “You look good in green.”

  Daft man. “Perhaps you should consider spectacles. I’m wearing white.”

  “Ah, yes, but the jealousy has livened your complexion.”

  The absolute gall of the man infuriated her. “Why would I be jealous?”

  “Because you’ve lost.”

  Georgina looked at the table. Each couple had two stacks of cards in front of them. “We appear evenly matched at the moment.”

  “Then you aren’t looking closely.”

  But she was. She was looking all too closely; she just didn’t want to admit it. It was obvious to anyone with half a brain that the duke was, for whatever reason, giving his undivided attention to Miranda.

  Georgina wasn’t even under his consideration.

  This was the second man her sister had ruined her chances with, even if she’d done so without intent. Georgina’s voice was tight with unshed tears as she tried to move the game along. They were all stuck at this table until the game was finished “Sister dear, it is your play.”

  “What if I don’t want it?” Miranda whispered.

  “What do you mean you don’t want it? You played the king, Miranda. Who did you think was going to have the next lead?”

  The urge to slam her cards on the table and leave was strong, but that would create a scandal. Georgina needed the marriage of the Season, not the scandal of the year.

  Very well, scandal of the week. Abandoning a card game wasn’t worth more than a day or two of gossip. Assuming anyone even noticed.

  Miranda plopped the queen of hearts on the table.

  This was the strangest game Georgina had ever played. Was her sister trying to flirt with a card? They were all acting as if the cards were some sort of life symbol. She threw down the two.

  Very well, if philosophical was the way to the duke’s heart, she would play along.

  As soon as she thought of something to say.

  The duke slowly laid the king on top of Miranda’s queen.

  Was the duke flirting back? Was this absurd game actually working for Miranda?

  Miranda’s cheeks flushed bright red and remained that way as they quietly played out the hand.

  “I fear I must excuse myself.” The duke gave no excuse, simply watched Miranda as he rose.

  Georgina wanted to cry. Miranda had had three years—three years!—to make a good match. Did she have to suddenly become successful during Georgina’s one and only chance? Because it was her only chance. One week into the Season, and Georgina was already exhausted from hiding her shortcoming. She’d never make it through a second Season.

  The Earl of Ashcombe walked by the table as the duke walked away.

  “My lord!” Georgina rose with measured grace. Another skill she’d spent hours perfecting, and it gained the earl’s attention immediately. “We seem to be short a player. Would you care to join?”

  “But of course. I would hate to leave the Ladies Hawthorne in distress.” The earl took the duke’s seat.

  Miranda frowned at Georgina, but Georgina didn’t care. It wasn’t Georgina’s fault that the man had dropped his courtship of Miranda during her first Season. He wasn’t the greatest catch, but he was popular, wealthy, and powerful. If the duke didn’t come up to scratch, Lord Ashcombe would do.

  Mr. McCrae looked at everyone at the table, eyebrows inching higher.

  Georgina ignored him as she dealt the cards. This was going to work.

  It had to.

  Chapter 10

  He’d never been more grateful to lose a card game in his life. Shortly after Ashcombe joined the table, Lady Miranda had pleaded a headache. While Colin didn’t doubt the truth of her statement, he had a distinct feeling the headache was more figurative than literal and most assuredly connected to the gentleman now sitting to Colin’s left.

  Lady Wrothington joined the game after Miranda departed. By then all Colin wanted was to be finished. He threw tricks and played as poorly as possible, but the others at his table seemed determined to stretch the game out as long as possible.

  After the game, Lady Georgina drifted away. Colin watched her go and tried to convince himself he was glad to be free
of her. It didn’t work. The uncomfortable sensation remained that he was supposed to do something, which was a ludicrous idea.

  It wasn’t his business. He should leave it alone.

  He wandered the edges of the rooms, exchanging banal social chatter with people on occasion, but mostly moving just to appear part of the party while avoiding brooding in a corner somewhere.

  What were the chances Lady Georgina would listen to him even if he did say anything to her?

  Nearly nonexistent.

  Which meant the slightest possibility remained that he could get through to her. Colin drained the last of his drink and set the glass on a passing servant’s tray, exchanging it for a fresh one. He needed something to occupy himself as he wandered around the rooms.

  Did he really think Lady Georgina would listen to him? They’d yet to have an encounter that could be termed as anything less than a verbal skirmish.

  God was going to have to create the optimal situation if He was going to keep prodding Colin to interfere in this family’s relationships. Colin wasn’t going to try to perform a miracle on his own. Simply playing cards at the same table as the lady had raised more than a few eyebrows. He could only imagine what seeking her out for a private conversation would do.

  Content that he’d turned the matter over to more capable hands than his, Colin made an effort to make use of his evening. He listened to gossip, talked business, and observed people. It was amazing how many business deals fell through because the people involved didn’t get along. Knowing who couldn’t stand each other was a valuable part of his success.

  Every woman wearing even a bit of white distracted him until he cast his eyes toward the ceiling in a prayer of submission. He couldn’t take it anymore. Obviously God wasn’t going to remove the notion that Colin was supposed to help Georgina until he gave in and did something about it. Downing the last of his lemonade as if it were a bracing shot of Scotch, he set off to find the lady in white.

  That she was standing alone by a window was a miracle.