Impetuous Innocent Read online

  Georgiana seriously doubted that companions were chosen for the picture they made in the ballroom.

  Fancon turned and murmured a command. A minute later, a fresh selection of materials arrived. Sea-green gauze, spangled and shimmering, was draped around Georgiana. The assistant stood back, and Georgiana raised her eyes to the mirror. She gasped. Was the slim, slender mermaid she saw there really herself? The green brought out the lights in her hair and eyes, and emphasised the creaminess of her skin. She stood and stared. Then, slowly, she shook her head sadly.

  “Not yet. I’m still in mourning, remember?”

  Another murmur from Fancon saw a deep topaz silk replace the sea-green gauze. Again, Georgiana stared. This time she looked almost as worldly as Bella. The silk added an air of allure, of mystery. She looked…enticing. But again she refused.

  Apparently resigned to using the purplish hues, Fancon next produced a pale amethyst silk. Georgiana regarded it critically. The colour suited her well enough, making her appear soft and feminine. But the amethyst simply did not do for her what the previous two shades had. In this, she simply looked passably pretty. She turned and looked longingly at the topaz and the sea-green, lying discarded beside her. Still, she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted from her purpose. Doubtless ladies who needed companions would approve of the amethyst silk.

  “Yes. I’ll take this fabric. And the pattern we agreed on.”

  Georgiana turned in time to catch the look that passed between Bella and Fancon. It was a look that bespoke an understanding, but she got no further clue to assist in its interpretation.

  While they waited for the two day dresses to be packed, Georgiana reflected that Madame Fancon had not seemed anywhere near as dragon-like as Bella had led her to believe.

  Settled in the barouche, with Fancon’s boxes on the opposite seat, Bella leant forward and spoke to her coachman. “Once around the park for luck. Then back to Green Street.”

  The carriage moved off. Georgiana sat quietly, wondering a little at the revelations of the sumptuous sea-green and topaz silks. Could she really appear like that? Her? Little Georgiana?

  Bella also sat quietly, smugly satisfied with the outcome of her scheming. She had been to see Fancon the day before, while Arthur had taken Georgiana to see her banker. The modiste knew her well; she was, after all, one of her best customers. Fancon had been most helpful, particularly after she had let fall the information that a certain peer was most desirous that Georgiana should be well presented, and hence money was no option. Dominic could hardly take exception to that. Bella grinned. She had little doubt Fancon would guess who the gentleman was. Who other than her brother would be likely to leave a young girl in her care?

  “Bella, there’s been some mistake. We have six boxes instead of two.”

  Georgiana’s words reclaimed Bella’s attention. She turned and found Georgiana frowning at the offending extra boxes. “No, no,” said Bella. “It’s all right. I bought some gowns, too. I couldn’t resist after seeing you in them, and we’re much of a size.” All of which, Bella told her conscience, was perfectly true.

  Georgiana raised her brows but said no more.

  Bella returned to her absent-minded contemplation of the pavements. Undoubtedly she’d have to argue hard and fast to get Georgiana to accept the gowns she had bought. But none of them were in colours she, so much darker of hair and fairer of skin, could wear. The sea-green gauze and topaz silk would look hideous on her. They were to be delivered tomorrow, along with the amethyst silk. Surely Georgie would see what a waste it would be simply to throw them away?

  As the barouche turned into the park, Bella sat up straighter. She looked across at Georgiana, sitting quietly beside her. Demure she might look, but Georgiana Hartley had a mind of her own. Stubborn to a fault, she was sure to balk at accepting what she would probably class as charity. Still, Bella was perfectly certain Dominic would have wanted her to spend his money as she had. She was sure he would approve, when he saw Georgiana in the topaz silk. And, after all, Georgiana should be grateful enough to want to please her brother. She made a mental note to remember Dominic, if she had need of further ammunition to force Georgiana to accept the gowns.

  “IT’S MY ‘at home’ this afternoon.” Bella came bustling into the downstairs parlour.

  Georgiana looked up from the magazine she was idly leafing through. She felt supremely confident this morning, arrayed in one of her new gowns, a soft bluey lilac cambric. Bella’s elegance seemed less daunting now. She caught Bella’s eye as it rested pensively upon her. Georgiana raised one fine brow in invitation.

  “About the story we should tell about you. To account for your being here.”

  “What about the truth?” asked Georgiana, not quite sure what her friend meant.

  “Well, yes. The truth, of course. But…do you think the whole truth’s wise?”

  When Georgiana looked her confusion, Bella continued, “You see, if you tell about how you met Dominic, people might get the wrong idea. To support your story, you’d have to explain about Charles. And, my dear, if you’re looking for a position, the last person you would want to claim kinship with is Charles.”

  Bella had put a great deal of thought into how best to broach this most delicate of subjects. Now she watched Georgiana carefully to see how the younger girl took her suggestion. Georgiana was frowning, her thoughts clouding her big eyes.

  “You mean…?”

  “What I mean,” said Bella, candid to a fault, “is that Charles is hardly a gold-plated reference. But there’s really no need to mention him at all. All we have to do is decide how you came to stay with me. I think the most sensible thing to say is that we had met, years ago, at Candlewick, before you went to Italy. We became such friends that we’ve been corresponding ever since. Naturally, when you returned to England and found your uncle dead, you came back to London to stay with me. That should be believable enough, don’t you think?” When Georgiana made no reply, Bella pressed her final argument. “And you wouldn’t want to put Dominic in a difficult position, would you?”

  Put Lord Alton in a difficult position? For a minute, Georgiana could make no sense of her friend’s allusion. Then the Fragonard materialised in her mind’s eye…and the image of his lordship as she had last seen him, a vision that had not yet faded from her memory.

  “Oh.”

  Of course. Georgiana gave herself a mental shake. She wasn’t so innocent that she couldn’t follow Bella’s drift. While her visit with Lord Alton had been utterly without consequence, society, if it heard of it, might view it otherwise. She raised her gaze to Bella’s face. “I’ll do whatever you think best. I wouldn’t want to cause your brother any trouble.”

  Bella grinned, entirely satisfied.

  “Oh, and one last thing. It will be better, at this stage, if we make no mention of your wish for a position. Such things are better negotiated after you’re known.”

  Georgiana nodded her acceptance, Lord Alton’s assurance that his sister knew what was best echoing in her mind.

  That afternoon three matrons came to tea, bringing with them a gaggle of unmarried daughters. Georgiana did not succeed in fixing which young ladies belonged to which mama. In the end, it made little difference. To a woman, they accepted Bella’s charmingly phrased explanation of her presence. Quick eyes surveyed the latest entrant in the marriage game. The ladies found no reason not to be gracious. Miss Hartley was no beauty.

  Miss Hartley had difficulty subduing her mirth. They were really so blatant in their pursuit of well heeled and preferably titled son-in-laws.

  To her surprise, Georgiana found conversing with the younger ladies almost beyond her. Used to dealing with the gracious conversation of the Italian aristocracy, among whom she had spent much of her life, used to the subtle ebb and flow of polished discourse, she found it hard to relate to the titters and smirks and girlish giggles of the four very proper English maids. However, she did not make the mistake of attempting to join the
matrons. Stoically, she bore her ordeal as best she could.

  Bella, watching her, was pleased by her confidence and innate poise. Innocent and trusting Georgiana might be, but she was no mindless ninny, scared to open her mouth in company. Her manners were assured, unusually so for a girl of her age.

  When the guests had departed, Bella grimaced at Georgiana. “Witless, aren’t they?” She smiled at Georgiana’s emphatic nod. “They’re not all like that, of course. Still, there are a lot of unbelievably silly girls about.” Bella paused, considering her words. “Just as well, I suppose. There are an awful lot of silly men, too.”

  They shared a grin of complete understanding.

  Five minutes later, just as they had settled comfortably to their embroidery, Johnson entered. “Lady Winterspoon, m’lady.”

  Bella rose. Georgiana was disconcerted to see perturbation in her friend’s blue eyes. Then Lady Winterspoon was in the room.

  “Bella! Haven’t seen you in ages! Where’ve you been hiding yourself?”

  Lady Winterspoon’s trenchant accents reverberated through the room. Bella suffered a hug and a hearty kiss and, looking slightly shaken, settled her ageing guest in an armchair. Lady Winterspoon was, Georgiana guessed, quite old enough to be Bella’s mother. Who was she?

  “Amelia, I’d like you to meet Georgiana Hartley. She’s an old friend of mine from the country. Georgiana, this is my sister-in-law.”

  Georgiana met the clear grey gaze and found herself smiling warmly in response. Lord Winsmere’s sister, of course.

  “Hartley, hmm? Well, I probably knew your father, if he’s the one I’m thinking of. Painter fellow. Jimmy? James? Married Lorien Putledge.”

  Georgiana nodded, eager to hear more of her parents. She had never before met anyone who had known them in their younger days.

  Reading her interest in her eyes, Lady Winterspoon waved one hand in a negative gesture. “No, my dear. I can’t tell you much about them; I didn’t know them that well. I take it they’ve passed on?”

  Disappointed, Georgiana nodded. Bella promptly stepped in with their agreed explanation for her presence in Green Street. Lady Winterspoon’s shrewd eyes remained on Georgiana throughout Bella’s speech. Whether she accepted the story, neither young woman felt qualified to say.

  “Hmph!” was all the response she made.

  After a moment of silence, during which both Bella and Georgiana racked their brains to think of something to say, Lady Winterspoon commented, “Dare say you’ll make quite a hit. Not just in the common way. In the circumstances, not a bad thing to be.”

  Georgiana decided that was meant as a compliment. She smiled.

  Lady Winterspoon’s lips twitched. She turned purposefully to Bella. “But that’s not why I came. Bella, you’ve got to have a word with that brother of yours. Elaine Changley’s becoming entirely too much, with her airs and graces and subtle suggestions she’ll be the next Viscountess Alton.” Lady Winterspoon snorted.

  Bella frowned and bit her lip. She cast a slightly scandalised look Georgiana’s way. But Georgiana was too engrossed in Lady Winterspoon’s disclosures to notice.

  “If I thought there was any chance of it coming to pass, I’d insist Arthur break the connection. Elaine Changley! Why, she’s…” Amelia Winterspoon became aware of Georgiana’s clear hazel gaze. She broke off. “Well, you know what I mean,” she amended, glaring at Bella.

  Relieved at the opportune halt to her sister-in-law’s tirade, Bella gracefully seated herself on the sofa. “Amelia, you know I have no influence whatever with Dominic.”

  “Pshaw! You’d have influence enough if you chose to use it!”

  Bella coloured slightly. “I assure you I share your concern about Lady Changley, but mentioning her to Dominic is entirely beyond me.”

  “Well, Elaine Changley is beyond the pale! Just bear that in mind. You’ll look no-how if you wake up one morning to find her your sister-in-law.”

  Lady Winterspoon heaved herself up. “Must go. Just wanted to let you know things need a bit of push from you.” She fixed her grey gaze firmly on Bella.

  Despite her annoyance, Bella could not help grinning back. She rose.

  Lady Winterspoon paused to nod to Georgiana. “I’ll see you at Almack’s, my dear.” She turned to Bella. “I’ll get Emily to send you vouchers.”

  “Thank you,” said Bella, taken aback. She had forgotten Amelia had the ear of several of the patronesses of Almack’s. She went out with Lady Winterspoon.

  Minutes later, returning to the back parlour, Bella found Georgiana staring into space. She shut the door with a click, jolting her guest to attention. “Well!” she said, with determined brightness. “Vouchers for Almack’s without even having to charm one of the patronesses. We’ll go just as soon as Lady Cowper sends them.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Georgiana. But it was plain to Bella that her friend was absorbed in distant thoughts…thoughts she made no move to share.

  CHAPTER THREE

  BELLA HEARD the door of her boudoir open and shut, but, absorbed in brushing the haresfoot delicately over her cheekbones, she did not turn around. In her mirror, she saw Hills obediently drop a curtsy and leave. Finally, satisfied with her appearance, she swung about. “Arthur— Oh! Dominic!”

  She was out of her chair and across the room on the word.

  Half laughing, half frowning, Dominic held her off. “No! Compose yourself, you hoyden. What will staid Arthur think? And I can’t have you ruining my cravat as you did the last time.”

  So Bella had to make do with clasping his hands. “Oh, thank you, dearest Dominic, for sending Georgie to me! We’re having such a wonderful time!” She drew him down to plant a sisterly kiss on one lean cheek.

  Dominic suffered the embrace, using the moment to cast a knowledgeable eye over his sister. “So you and Miss Hartley have hit it off?”

  “Famously!” Bella sat with a swirl of her satin skirts. “But whoever would have thought you’d…?” She broke off, biting her lip.

  Dominic’s black brows rose. There was a disconcerting glint in his eye, but his voice was gentle when he softly prompted, “I’d…?”

  Bella flushed and turned back to her dressing-table, skirts rustling, and busied herself with a pot of rouge. She refused to meet his eye. “That you’d behave so uncommonly sensible, if you must know. From everything I’ve heard, it must be the first time in weeks!”

  “Weeks?” The arrogant black brows rose again. Dominic considered the point for all of ten seconds. “Feels more like years.”

  Bella, surprised by his weary tone, chanced a glance at him in the mirror. He raised his head at that moment, and she was caught in his chilly blue gaze. “That aside, dear sister mine, you would be well advised not to listen to gossip—about myself, or anyone else, for that matter.”

  Eyes wide, Bella knew better than to remonstrate. Dominic was ten years her senior and had been the strictest of guardians in the years preceding her marriage. She half expected some more pointed rebuke, but he turned aside, a far-away look settling over his handsome face. To her, that pensive look was far more frightening than Amelia’s bluster. Surely he wasn’t serious about Elaine Changley?

  She waited, but he made no further remark. Finally she asked, “Will you stay for dinner?”

  He looked up.

  Bella fidgeted with her hairbrush. “Georgie and I are going on to Almack’s later, so you needn’t fear you’ll have to kick your heels in my drawing-room.”

  Her tone brought a smile to her brother’s face, dispelling the withdrawn look which had so concerned her. Still, she was sure he would refuse.

  Instead, after a moment’s hesitation, she heard him murmur, “Why not?”

  As it seemed a purely rhetorical question, Bella made no attempt to answer it.

  Dominic shrugged, then turned his sweetest smile full on her. “Since you ask, dear sister, I’ll stay. It might be interesting to meet my…your protégée.”

  As Bella reached for
the bell-pull to summon Hills, Dominic surveyed a nearby chair through his quizzing-glass. Reassured, he carefully disposed his long limbs in the delicate piece.

  “So how came you to get vouchers for the Marriage Mart so soon?”

  “Well! It was the most fortunate thing!” Bella seized on the question to lead the conversation on to lighter ground, hoping her intrusion into her brother’s private life would be the quicker forgotten. Dominic had never allowed her any speculation on the possible candidates for the position of Viscountess Alton. And she had long ago learned that any mention of his mistresses, past, present or potential, was sure to invite one of his more painful set-downs. Still, after Amelia’s warning, and her own unfortunate gaffe, she had felt justified in at least trying to broach the subject.

  While Hills informed Johnson of the necessity of setting an extra place and returned to twist her hair into an elegant knot, Bella described the recent history of Georgiana Hartley. As she prattled, she watched her brother’s face in the mirror. He sat quietly studying his nails, paying scant attention to her words. His lack of interest worried her. She had hardly expected him to be seriously concerned with Georgiana. After all, he had barely met her and she was certainly not the sort of woman to hold his attention. But his introspection was unusual and disquieting, suggesting as it did the existence of some weightier matter dragging on his mind. Like matrimony. But surely, surely, he wouldn’t choose Elaine Changley?

  It was with relief that Bella finally rose from her dressing-table. What with the distraction of Dominic’s arrival, the hour was well advanced. He accompanied her down the wide staircase and entered the drawing-room by her side.

  Georgiana was talking to Arthur. Warned by his face that someone unexpected had entered, she turned and was trapped, once again without warning, in the blue of Lord Alton’s eyes.

  The same eyes that haunted her dreams.

  For Georgiana, it was a definite case of déjà vu. Her breathing stopped; her heart contracted. Her gaze was oddly restricted, the rest of the room fading away, leaving one strong face to impress itself on her mind. Her stare widened to take in his immaculate evening clothes, and the way his dark hair sat in elegant waves about his head. A cornflower-blue sapphire winked in his cravat, its colour no more intense than his eyes.