‘All I have ever done is take care of your interests,’ she gasped, as though he’d struck her. To make sure he got the message that he was an ungrateful brute, she pressed one hand to her bosom, whilst widening her eyes until they watered. ‘Somebody has to think of what you owe to your tenants, while you are wasting your time on those stupid books and experiments of yours. And as for last night...’ She shook her head, eyeing him up and down as though he was a servant caught with a pocket full of silver teaspoons. ‘Do you care nothing for your reputation? What you owe to your family name?’
‘I hardly think my reputation is going to be damaged by dancing with a former neighbour of mine. A girl I have known since the cradle.’
‘Well, that just goes to show what a fool you are when it comes to women! If only you moved about in society a bit more, you would have so much more experience. And I don’t mean the kind you get with your bits of muslin,’ she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘They are different. But when it comes to a girl like that...’ She shook her head. ‘For God’s sake, Edmund, I didn’t go to all that effort to see you fall prey to her wiles in the end.’
All that effort? What could she mean? Though the remark had roused his curiosity, he did his best not to reveal it. In fact, he lowered his eyelids and regarded her steadily, though his mind was racing. He’d already detected an anomaly of some sort regarding his past dealings with Georgie. Was he now about to discover that his mother had played some part in it? She was so angry that she was already being highly indiscreet. Hopefully he could goad her into losing her temper altogether. It wouldn’t take much, by the look of her. She always ended up like this if she didn’t get her own way. If tears and pleading failed, she worked herself up into a fury. It was one of the reasons his subordinates found it so hard to defy her, even when they knew it would mean disobeying his orders.
But he was made of sterner stuff. And hadn’t been scared by one of her tantrums since he’d been a very small boy.
Which made it almost a pleasure to say the very thing most likely to infuriate her.
‘Georgiana does not need to employ any wiles,’ he said, with what he hoped was a smile she’d take for that of a besotted suitor. ‘She is far too beautiful to need to bother. Besides being by far the most interesting conversationalist...’
‘Interesting? Interesting! That girl knows nothing about anything except hounds and horses! How can you...lower yourself to that level? But it is all the same with you...men,’ she said scornfully. ‘You may claim to be intelligent and care for intellectual pursuits, but deep down all any of you can think of is the bedroom.’
He gave her a mockingly innocent smile. ‘Is that so? The bedroom? Why, madam, whatever can you mean?’
‘Don’t give me that innocent act,’ she screeched. ‘I know all about your proclivities. And hers. Why do you think I let Dr Scholes remove you from Bartlesham in the first place? You were just at the age to start noticing the difference between male and female, and there she was, climbing into your bedroom at all hours of the day and night. Romping in your bed, in her undergarments...’
He frowned. ‘Romping?’ They had never romped. He’d barely started noticing that she was becoming a young lady. And wondering whether she really was as pretty as he thought, or if he liked her looks so much because he liked her so much. Every single one of her features had appeared perfect to his inexperienced eyes. Especially her lips. He’d become fascinated by the way they moved when she talked. The way she pressed them together when she was thinking hard. And, yes, he might have wondered, once or twice, what it would be like to kiss her, when they grew up, but that was as far as it had gone.
‘Yes, romping! I knew all about it, from the very first. Because Mrs Bulstrode came straight to me and told me the whole, the very day she caught that bold little piece in your bed.’ Lady Ashenden clasped her hands so tightly the knuckles went white. ‘I knew the only way to save you from getting embroiled in a sordid scandal was to send you away. Somewhere she couldn’t reach you. Though, what it cost me—’ Her voice hitched. ‘You were my boy. My only boy. I knew I’d never have another, not with your father—’ She pulled herself up. Gulped. ‘And you never came back. Not to me...’ Her voice faded away. The sheen of moisture in her eyes welled completely naturally this time. And then to his surprise, her whole posture changed. She looked as though she was actually shrinking.
Until that moment, he’d never thought of her as old. Because her personality was so forceful. Her mannerisms so vibrant.
But beneath all the bravado, and the fashionable clothes, and the jewellery, and the gossip and the brittle laughter, he could now see there lurked a sad and lonely woman who was well past her prime.
He cleared his throat. ‘You are telling me that was the reason you sent me away? Because Mrs Bulstrode came to you with some tale about Georgie and I getting up to no good?’
‘It was for the best,’ she said in a hollow voice. ‘By the time you came back, you’d...grown out of the infatuation.’
‘Firstly,’ he said, ‘Georgie and I were never more than friends, in those days.’
His mother snorted. ‘She was in your bed, with her dress hitched up to her waist.’
‘Because she had just climbed up to my room with a dozen jam jars full of specimens she’d collected for me. Good God, woman, she was only twelve. And completely innocent, most particularly because she’d been brought up more like a boy than a girl. She had no notion that showing her legs was indecent. Her skirts hampered her ability to climb, so she simply hitched them out of the way.’
‘Trust you to try to defend her. But don’t forget, Mrs Bulstrode heard the pair of you giggling. Behind closed bed curtains. And when she twitched them away, the pair of you were the picture of guilt.’
‘Of course we were the picture of guilt. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be there. You had forbidden all visitors lest they bring some infection to my room, hadn’t you? It was no more than that. Nothing—’ he slammed his open palm on the desktop so hard the inkwells rattled ‘—absolutely nothing improper ever crossed either of our minds.’
‘Well, it does not matter now.’
‘Doesn’t matter? Doesn’t matter? Have you no idea how unhappy I was when you sent me into exile?’
For the first six months, he’d been in daily torment, waiting for letters that never came. And when Dr Scholes had given him the explanation about women being fickle creatures, he’d absorbed that lie to the extent that he’d based every interaction, with every person he’d ever met since then, male or female, on the premise that if he was fool enough to believe a word they said, if he trusted them, then they’d let him down.
‘Well, I’m sure you were. As was I, to have to do it. But it was worth it, in the end, wasn’t it? You came home strong, and well, and free from...’ She trailed away at the look of fury he was sure must be blazing from his eyes.
‘Sending me away was not all that you did though, was it? It wasn’t enough to physically part us, you did your utmost to kill our friendship, by preventing us communicating at all. Somehow you prevented my letters from reaching her, didn’t you? You made sure she thought I’d forgotten all about her the minute I left Bartlesham.’ He got to his feet. ‘And I thought she’d forgotten all about me, too, but now I wonder. Did she write to me? And did you prevent her letters from reaching me?’
She lifted her chin. ‘It was for the best.’
He could scarcely believe it. He didn’t think he’d ever had a hypothesis proved correct in such short order.
‘How did you do it? No, wait...’ He stalked to the window, then turned back. ‘It would have been remarkably simple.’ The man who came up to the house with the letters always handed them to Dr Scholes. ‘You ordered Dr Scholes not to permit me any communication from her. What did you tell him, that she was an undesirable connection? A corrupting influence?’
She sat as though turned to stone. But he did not need her to say a word. Dr Scholes had done his work well. He’d known the truth, yet had no scruples about tarnishing Georgiana’s image by spouting all that nonsense about women being fickle and forgetting what they’d promised, or changing their minds at the drop of a hat.
‘But why, that is what I cannot understand.’
And why had he trusted Dr Scholes, a man he barely knew, a man employed by his mother, rather than in Georgie? When she’d been the only person to have cared about him without having some ulterior motive? Why hadn’t he searched for another reason to explain why he hadn’t heard from her?
And why, when he’d finally returned to Bartlesham, hadn’t he simply gone to see her and demanded an explanation? He steadied himself by resting the tips of his fingers on the desk before speaking again.
‘How could you have...destroyed the one friendship I had? What, pray, do you have against her? Why did you feel it was necessary to take such...steps?’
‘Mrs Bulstrode found the pair of you in bed together. Isn’t that enough?’
‘No. I have already explained it was perfectly innocent. So, apart from a mistaken belief she was some kind of...sexual adventuress as a child—’ his voice dripped with disdain ‘—what other reason do you have for finding her so unpalatable as a daughter-in-law?’
Her eyes widened in horror. ‘You cannot mean you actually do propose to marry that...that...’
He couldn’t help himself. She’d put him through so much misery. Set events in motion that had warped his view of all females. Made him believe that Georgie had betrayed him. And probably made her hate him in return. Though he’d had no thoughts of marrying at all, he couldn’t help taunting his mother with the prospect that the only daughter-in-law she was likely to get was the very one she’d worked so hard to exclude.
‘Miss Georgiana Wickford,’ he therefore said, ‘is from a perfectly respectable family. She is a sensible woman with whom I can converse, without feeling one moment’s tedium. And, moreover, she is as healthy as a horse. Since you profess to be so anxious for me to ensure the succession, I should have thought you would be glad I am looking at a woman who is bound to produce healthy offspring.’
‘You cannot mean that,’ she said faintly, reaching into her reticule for her vinaigrette. ‘Not...after all I have done...the sacrifices I have made...I won’t have it,’ she whimpered. ‘I won’t be supplanted by that...great...ungainly...’
‘Be careful what you say about Georgiana, madam,’ he said coldly. ‘To anyone. Because if I discover,’ he said, leaning towards her across the desk, ‘that you have done anything, or said anything, to tarnish her reputation, I will make you regret it.’
‘Oh, but you are just like your father,’ she said, as though it was the deepest insult she could fling at him.
‘No, madam, you will find that I am not,’ he said coldly. Not in any respect. ‘I take duty to my tenants very seriously, for one thing. And as for marriage,’ he continued, warming to the subject, ‘when I do decide to tie the knot, I will not settle for a dynastic union which has been arranged for me, which I subsequently make no effort to sustain. I will choose my own bride, because she is a woman I can regard as a partner and a friend. A woman I can respect and admire. A woman who will complement and complete me.’
His mother reeled back as though he’d struck her. Though he could not tell whether it was because he’d described the very antithesis of her union with his father, or because she believed he’d been listing reasons for marrying Georgiana in particular.
Because she didn’t give him the benefit of her opinion for once, before turning and flouncing out of the room.
Chapter Eleven
For the whole of the next week, Georgiana made sure she stayed out of secluded corners, smiled at every man who asked her to dance and tried not to object whenever her cleavage got more attention than she did.
After all, it wasn’t as if her eyes were behaving much better. Instead of giving every partner her wholehearted attention, the way Sukey did, Georgiana’s gaze roamed freely over the other guests attending whatever ball, or rout, or breakfast she happened to be at. Especially if it was the slightest bit tonnish. Even though she knew Edmund didn’t make a habit of going to such things, he had turned up at Miss Twining’s debut and he had danced with her.
But evidently he had no intention of giving anyone a chance to gossip about them again. Which was a good thing, she decided gloomily one afternoon as she sat in the drawing room, listening to the rain lashing the windowpanes. She hadn’t liked the way Lady Tarbrook, for example, had looked at her the next evening, at the Fairweathers’ musicale. Or the way she’d nudged the fat woman sitting next to her and started whispering behind her fan. She knew they’d been speculating about her relationship with Edmund, because that kind of whispering had started the moment he’d left the Twinings’ ball.
And because Stepmama had confirmed it on their way home.
‘It isn’t that you have done anything wrong,’ she’d hastened to assure Georgiana, when she’d been on the verge of defending herself. ‘It is just that Lord Ashenden’s behaviour was so very unusual for him. It was bound to cause speculation. Now that I’ve explained our long-standing connection, all you need do is continue to behave properly and the talk will die down. As long as he doesn’t make a habit of monopolising you and ignoring every other eligible female in the room,’ she’d said irritably, ‘you should be able to brush through without a hint of blame attaching to you.’
Which implied that people might blame her for Edmund’s behaviour if she did put a foot wrong anywhere else.
Which conclusion absolutely infuriated her. Why did people always blame the woman when there was any sort of scandal? She would wager that nine times out of ten it was the man’s fault.
Her mood today wasn’t improved by the fact that Stepmama was making them all sit here pretending to do needlework just in case somebody called. Which wasn’t likely. What kind of idiot would venture out in such foul weather?
Just then, as if to mock her assumptions about the intelligence of Town dwellers, there came a knock on the door. And a murmur of male voices in the hallway. And the sound of a light tread upon the stairs.
Then in walked Edmund.
‘Mrs Wickford,’ he said, ‘Miss Wickford, Miss Mead.’ He bowed to each in turn. ‘I was just passing on my way to Bullock’s Museum and it occurred to me that you might care to accompany me.’
‘Oh! Lord Ashenden,’ said Stepmama, mangling the needlework in her lap. ‘You have taken us all by surprise. Indeed, I am sure I don’t know why you have even come up here and walked in upon us this way when Wiggins is supposed to announce visitors.’
Edmund frowned. ‘Your butler is not here to announce me because I did not care to kick my heels in the hall while he disposed of my coat and hat. I have an intense dislike of loitering about, wasting my time.’
And didn’t she know it. Georgiana couldn’t help recalling the way he’d pulled his watch out and practically tapped his foot while waiting for her to explain her situation to him, that day down by the trout stream. It wouldn’t surprise her to see him do something similar now.
‘Oh, I see,’ said Stepmama, with something of the air of a landed trout. ‘I meant no disrespect to you, my lord. Indeed it was on that account that I...I mean...we would not wish you to feel...that is, of course you are most welcome, whenever you wish to pay us a visit. And if you prefer informality over—’
‘Kicking my heels in the hall,’ Edmund put in helpfully as she floundered to a halt, gulping. ‘I do, most emphatically.’
‘Well, then,’ said Stepmama, attempting a smile even as she was drawing in a much-needed breath. ‘That’s good. And so, here you are.’
‘Yes. Here I am,’ said Edmund. ‘With an invitation to take t
he young ladies on an outing that they should find both educational and improving.’
Since Edmund was standing looking down at Stepmama and Sukey was sitting on her favourite sofa which put her out of his eye line, he didn’t see the look of horror that flashed across her face at the prospect of spending the afternoon being educated and improved.
‘The young ladies,’ said Stepmama with barely concealed relief, at the same time as Sukey made a valiant effort to school her features into an expression of dutiful gratitude. ‘How very kind of you to think of them. I am sure they are most grateful to be offered such a treat,’ said Stepmama, ruthlessly ignoring Sukey’s initial reaction. ‘We have been so dull here today.’
‘All your beaus have deserted you? I cannot believe it,’ he said gravely.
‘I dare say the rain is keeping them at home,’ said Georgiana.
‘I shouldn’t be a bit surprised,’ he said, turning to her. ‘However, a little bit of weather has never prevented me from doing exactly as I please. Nor will I permit it to spoil your own enjoyment of the outing. Your charges will both be completely protected from the elements, I do assure you,’ he said, returning his attention to Stepmama.
‘Oh, do I take it to mean you mean to convey them to the museum in your carriage?’
Sukey brightened up at once. The prospect of being driven through the streets in a carriage with a crest on the door clearly more than made up for the fact that the destination was to be somewhere she would rather not go.
‘Not my own carriage, no,’ said Edmund, causing Sukey’s face to fall. ‘I do not habitually use a carriage when in Town. I prefer to walk wherever I am going, or hire a hack should the weather be inclement.
‘However, I have procured Lady Ashenden’s barouche, for the occasion.’
‘Lady Ashenden’s barouche,’ repeated Stepmama, one hand rising to her neck, even as Sukey made a moue of frustration.
The Debutante's Daring Proposal Page 13
