Читать книгу Impetuous Innocent - Stephanie Laurens, Stephanie Laurens - Страница 6

NIGHT had descended by the time Lord Alton’s travelling carriage drew to a halt on the cobbles before the elegant town house of Lord and Lady Winsmere. Georgiana glanced up at the tiers of lamplit windows reaching high above the street. Beside her, Cruickshank sat silent, her lips set in a severe line. The groom swung down and trotted up the steps to jangle the doorbell before returning to help them to the pavement.

A portly butler appeared. One glance at the groom’s livery was apparently enough to effect instant entrance for Georgiana and Cruickshank.

Georgiana allowed the butler to remove her pelisse. Then she turned and, in a voice tinged with nervousness, said, “I wish to speak with Lady Winsmere, if you please. I have a letter of introduction from Lord Alton.”

Despite the butler’s gracious bow and solemn face, Georgiana was instantly aware of his avid interest.

“I will convey your letter to Lady Winsmere, miss. If you would care to wait in the drawing-room?”

Shown into a reception-room of pleasing proportions, Georgiana stopped and blinked. The door shut behind her. Cruickshank had dutifully remained in the hall. Georgiana scanned the room, then, finding nothing of greater moment to consider, gave her attention to a careful appraisal of the white and gilt décor. The room was well stocked with furniture, and every available flat surface sprouted at least one ornament. The rule seemed to be that if it wasn’t white it had to be gilded. Not even the ornate cornices had escaped. The effect was overpowering. With a sigh and a shrug for English fashions, Georgiana chose a stiff-backed, spindlelegged chair, heavily gilded and upholstered in white damask, and gingerly sat down.

Her gaze roamed the walls once more, but there was no Fragonard to provide distraction.

She folded her hands in her lap and tried to subdue the uncomfortable feeling of encroaching upon those whom she had no right to call on. But Lord Alton had seemed unperturbed by her request for help. Maybe, despite her misgivings, there was nothing so very peculiar about her predicament. At least, not to an English mind. Determined to be optimstic, she endeavoured to compose herself to meet Lady Winsmere’s questions. Doubtless, she would have a good few. What was she making of her brother’s letter?

Only then did Georgiana realise she had no idea in what light Lord Alton had presented her to his sister. The thick parchment had been fixed with a heavy lump of red wax, on which the seal of the Viscounts Alton had been imprinted. Georgiana frowned. A wave of tiredness rose up to envelop her. Not for the first time since leaving the comfort of Candlewick Hall, she wondered at the wisdom of her actions. She was too impulsive. Often she had landed herself in the suds by rushing headlong on her fate—witness her flight from Ravello. But it was too late to draw back now. She grimaced. The more she thought of it, the more clearly she perceived her inability to influence the course of events Lord Alton had charted for her. These, presumably, would determine her immediate future. Somehow she had placed herself in Lord Alton’s hands.

Georgiana stifled a despondent sigh. She hoped she looked more confident than she felt.

On the floor above, Bella, Lady Winsmere, was in the middle of her toilette, preparatory to attending the theatre. A knock on the door of her boudoir was followed by a whispered conference between her dresser, Hills, and her butler, Johnson.

Distracted from the delicate task of improving on nature, Bella frowned. “What is it, Hills?”

Her black-garbed dresser produced a folded parchment, inscribed to herself in her brother’s unmistakable scrawl. Intrigued, Bella immediately laid down her haresfoot. Bits of red wax scattered in all directions as she broke open the seal.

Five short minutes later, she was crossing her front hall in a froth of lacy peignoir, rendered barely respectable by a silk wrapper. Johnson, having anticipated her impetuous descent, stood ready to open the drawing-room door for her.

As the door shut, bringing her guest to her feet, Bella’s bright blue eyes, very like her brother’s, surveyed her unexpected visitor.

Unconsciously clutching her reticule, once again in a tell-tale grip, Georgiana beheld an enchanting vision, fashionably slender and no taller than she herself was. But there the resemblance ended. Lady Winsmere was dark-haired, her fine skin was alabaster-white. Her blue eyes Georgiana had seen before. And the elegance of her lacy gown made Georgiana feel awkward and abominably young.

For her part, Bella saw a girl on the threshold of womanhood. Her innocence shone beacon-clear. She was all honey and cream, from the top of her curls, tinged with the sun’s kiss, to her delicately tinted complexion. Her golden eyes contained a quality of unusual candour. And she had no more inches than Bella herself. Bella’s face brightened. A little sigh escaped her. With a generous and genuine smile, she floated forward, both hands outstretched to capture Georgiana’s cold fingers in a warm clasp.

“My dear! So you are Georgiana Hartley! Dominic has written me all about you. You poor dear! What a dreadful thing to happen, and you newly returned to England. You must let me help you.”

At Georgiana’s murmured, “My lady,” Bella broke her stride. But when Georgiana attempted to curtsy, Bella held on tightly to her hands, preventing it.

“No, no, my dear. You’re among friends here. You must call me Bella, and I hope you won’t think me terribly forward if I call you Georgiana.” She tilted her small head to one side, blue eyes twinkling.

Georgiana found her engaging manners difficult to resist. “Why, of course not, my…Bella. But truly, I feel as if I’m imposing dreadfully upon you.”

“Oh, pooh!” Bella pulled a face. “I’m always bored; there’s so little to do in London these days. I’m positively thrilled Dominic thought to send you to me! Why—” she paused, struck by a wayward thought “—just think. If you’d grown up at the Place, we would have been neighbours.” Bella waved Georgiana to the chaise and sank to the white damask beside her. “So, you see, there’s no need for you to feel at all bothered about staying with me.”

Georgiana’s head reeled. “Oh! But I wouldn’t dream of imposing—”

“Not at all! It’s the very thing. You have nowhere to go and we have plenty of room.” Bella gazed intently at Georgiana. “Truly, it’s no trouble at all.”

“But—”

Bella shook her head. “No buts. Just consider it as doing me a favour. We’ll have such fun. I’ll take you about and introduce you to all the right people.”

Despite a sudden tug of impetuosity, urging acceptance of the exciting offer, Georgiana, grappling with the flow of Bella’s burgeoning plans, felt constrained to protest. “But my la…Bella. I don’t think Lord Alton can have properly explained. I need to find a post as a companion.”

Recalling the specific instructions contained in her brother’s letter, Bella assured Georgiana that he had, indeed, explained fully. “But my dear, in order to find the right post for you, particularly considering your age, you must first become established in society.”

Bella watched the frown gathering in Georgiana’s fine eyes. Before her guest could raise any further objection, she raised one slim, restraining hand. “Now before you start arguing—and I do so hate people who must forever be sniping and finding fault—I must tell you that you will be doing me the biggest favour imaginable in allowing me to help you. You can have no idea how boring it is to pass the Season with no real purpose. The Little Season is coming up in a few weeks. I implore you to relieve my frustrations and stay with me and allow me to present you. Surely that’s not too much to ask?” Bella’s big blue eyes pleaded eloquently.

Bemused by the sudden twist the situation seemed to have taken, with Lady Winsmere now begging the favour of her company, and feeling too drained by the day’s events to fight a fate so apparently desirable, Georgiana found herself weakly acquiescing. “If it’s really not too much trouble…Just until I can find a position.”

“Splendid!” Bella grinned in delight. “Now the first thing we must do is get you settled in a bedchamber. A hot bath is just what you need. Always so soothing after travelling.”

With a magic wave of one small bejewelled hand, Bella took charge. In short order, Georgiana, her luggage, Cruickshank, dinner on a tray and a large tub together with steaming hot water to fill it had been conveyed to the best guest chamber on the floor above.

An hour later, after she had closed the door of Georgiana’s room behind her, having seen her young guest settled in bed, Bella Winsmere’s face took on a pensive frown. Slowly she descended the stairs, so deep in thought that she was halfway across the hall towards the front door before she recalled her intended destination. Swinging about, she turned her steps towards the library at the back of the house.

At the sound of the door opening, Lord Winsmere looked up from the pile of documents he was working on. His lean face lit with a smile of great warmth. He laid aside his pen to reach out a welcoming arm to his wife.

With a quick smile, Bella went to him, returning his embrace and dropping a quick kiss on his greying hair.

“I thought you were bound for Drury Lane tonight?” Lord Winsmere was more than twenty years older than his beautiful wife. His staid, sometimes regal demeanour contrasted sharply with her effervescent charm. Many had wondered why, from among her myraid suitors, Bella Ridgeley had chosen to bestow her dainty hand on a man almost old enough to be her father. But over the years society had been forced to accept the fact that the beautiful Bella was sincerely and most earnestly in love with her eminently respectable lord.

“I was, but we have an unexpected guest.”

“Oh?”

His lordship pushed his papers aside, consigning them to the morrow. If his Bella had sought him out, then she had some problem to discuss. He rose and, Bella’s hand still in his, led her to the two armchairs stationed before the fireplace.

Bella sat, chewing the tip of one rosy finger, a habit when thinking profoundly.

Smiling, Lord Winsmere seated himself opposite her and waited for her to begin.

“It’s really most intriguing.”

Inured to his spouse’s methods of explanation, Lord Winsmere made no response.

Eventually Bella gathered her wandering mind and embarked on her story. “Dominic’s sent a girl to stay.”

At that, Lord Winsmere’s brows rose sharply. But the knowledge that, despite his apparent lack of moral concern, Dominic Ridgeley had never permitted the slightest breath of scandal to touch his sister’s fair name held him silent.

“She’s a would-have-been-neighbour. Her name’s Georgiana Hartley. Her father was a painter, one James Hartley. He died in Italy some months ago and Georgiana was left to her uncle’s care. Most unfortunately, her uncle, who lived at the Place—you know, it’s that funny estate that was made by selling off a piece of Candlewick—well, he died too. Just before her father, only she didn’t know that, being in Italy. The long and the short of it is, Georgiana travelled all the way from Italy, only to find her uncle dead and her cousin Charles in charge. It only needs to add that Charles is an out-and-out bounder and you have the picture.” Bella spread her hands and glanced at her husband.

“How did Dominic come to be involved?”

“It seems Georgiana was forced to flee the Place at dawn this morning. She doesn’t know anyone—no one at all. She asked at the Three Bells, thinking to find a sympathetic lady in residence at a neighbouring estate. Of course, the Tadlows sent her to Candlewick. You know how all our people are about Dominic.”

Lord Winsmere nodded sagely, a thin smile hovering about his lips at the thought of the godlike status his far from godly brother-in-law enjoyed on his own lands.

“Well, she went to the Hall and met Duckett. And then Dominic came and persuaded her to tell him all.” Bella suddenly broke off. “Oh—are you imagining she must be some encroaching mushroom?” Her ladyship leant forward slightly and fixed her big eyes on her husband. “Truly, Arthur, it is not so. She’s the most engaging little thing. So innocent and green and so…so trusting.”

Lord Winsmere’s fine brows rose slightly.

Abruptly Bella dropped to her knees, draping her silkclad arms over her husband’s knees. She smiled, impish and seductive all at once. “Please, Arthur. Please say she may stay. You know how bored I am. She’s perfectly presentable, I give you my word. I could take her about and present her to the ton…Oh—I’d have such fun! The balls and parties are so tame, if one’s not part of the game. Please, my love. Say she may stay.”

Lord Winsmere smiled down into his wife’s upturned face while his mind canvassed the possibilities presented by her unknown guest. Their son and only child was ensconced in the country, happily growing out of short coats. Jonathon’s constitution was not sickly but did not cope well with the stale air of the capital. But his own work necessitated his presence in London. Bella, torn between the two men in her life, had chosen to remain by his side. As he doubted he could live without her, he would willingly make any sacrifice to alleviate the boredom he knew she found in the predictable rounds of tonnish entertainment. But an unknown girl? And, if he knew his Bella, she meant to fire the chit off with all flags flying. Not that the expense worried him. But was the girl truly as innocent as Bella, herself not much more experienced for all her matronliness, believed?

He reached out a finger to trace the graceful curve of his wife’s brow. Impulsively, she caught his hand and kissed it, then continued to hold it in a warm clasp, her eyes on his face.

“You needn’t worry about the cost. Dominic said to charge everything to him.”

“Did he, indeed? How very magnanimous, to be sure.” Lord Winsmere’s mobile lips twitched. Dominic Ridgeley had inherited a fortune of sizeable proportions and could easily afford to underwrite the launching of an unknown damsel into the ton. The question that exercised Lord Winsmere’s mind was why his hedonistic brother-in-law should wish to do such a peculiar thing.

“I think perhaps I should meet this paragon before I allow you to take her under your wing.”

Bella’s eyes grew round. “Are you thinking she is one of Dominic’s paramours? I must admit, I did, too, at first. Well, whoever would imagine him having any contact with an innocent young girl? But I assure you she’s just what Dominic says—young and innocent and…and hopelessly lost. I dare say she’ll have no idea how to go on, having lived in Italy all this time.”

Lord Winsmere’s face remained impassive. The possibility that his brother-in-law had sent Bella a lady needing help to cover some lapse of acceptable conduct had certainly occurred, only to be immediately dismissed. Few knew better than himself that, despite Viscount Alton’s reputation as a well heeled, insidiously charming and potentially dangerous rake, underneath, Dominic Ridgeley adhered most assiduously to a code of conduct that, if it were more widely recognised, would see him hailed as a pillar of society. But it was the veneer society saw—a façade erected to hide the boredom of a man who had never had to exert himself to win any prize. Born with the proverbial silver spoon tightly clamped between his jaws, and with the compounding assets of a handsome face and an athletic frame, there was little Dominic Ridgeley needed in life. And what he did want came easily. Society adored him. His well born mistresses fell at his feet. With ready charm, Dominic moved through it all, and with the years his boredom grew.

“What, exactly, did Dominic say?”

Bella smiled and shifted to sit at his feet, her hand still holding his, her shining blue eyes turned lovingly on him. “Well…”

Fifteen minutes later, Lord Winsmere felt he was in possession of all the salient facts. The only puzzle remaining was his brother-in-law’s motives. A whimsical start? Dominic was hardly in his dotage. Nevertheless, young and girlish and innocent was assuredly not his style. The spectre of Elaine, Lady Changley drifted into Lord Winsmere’s mind. Involuntarily, his face assumed an expression of distaste. Lady Changley was definitely not young and girlish, and not by the remotest stretch of the most pliable imagination could she be described as innocent.

Bella saw the disapprobation in her husband’s face. Her own face fell. “You don’t like the idea?”

Recalled, Lord Winsmere smiled and confessed, “I was thinking of something else.” At his wife’s fond smile, he continued, “If the girl is all you and Dominic seem to think, I have no objections to your taking her under your wing. Aside from anything else, she’ll have to be terribly innocent to swallow this yarn of yours about the way to securing a position being to make a splash in society.”

Bella met his sceptical look with a bright grin. “Oh, I’ll manage it—you’ll see.”

Five minutes later Lord Winsmere returned to his desk to tidy his papers away for the night. The memory of Bella’s bright eyes remained with him. She was more animated than she had been in months. Perhaps Dominic’s damsel in distress was an angel in disguise. He smiled fondly. All in all, he was looking forward to meeting his wife’s protégée.

THE SHARP CALL of the orange sellers woke Georgiana. Bemused, she stared about her, then remembered where she was and how she came to be there. Despite the evidence of her eyes, reality retained the aura of a dream. She was lying propped in her pillows, still wondering, when Cruickshank came bustling through the door with her early morning chocolate.

Georgiana waited silently for her maid’s comment. No one could size up an establishment faster or more accurately than Cruickshank.

No sniffs were forthcoming. Not even a snort.

As she accepted the tray across her knees, Georgiana was taken aback to hear the dour maid humming.

Catching sight of her mistress’s startled look, Cruickshank smiled. “A right proper place they keep here, Miss Georgie. No need to teach them anything. Mrs Biggins, the housekeeper, is a tight old bird, but fair, mark my words. Runs the place just as she should. And Johnson—he’s the butler—and her ladyship’s dresser, Hills, are everything they ought to be. A relief, it is, after the Place.”

“So you’re comfortable here?”

At the wardrobe, Cruickshank nodded emphatically. She drew out a violet morning gown trimmed with fine lace and laid it ready across a chair, then went to search for the accessories.

Georgiana sipped her chocolate. As the sweet warmth slid down her throat and heat seeped through her body, she sighed. So wonderful—to have real chocolate again. She closed her eyes and was immediately back on the terrace at Ravello, her father opposite, across the breakfast-table. Abruptly she opened her eyes, blinking rapidly. Enough of that! She had shed all the tears she possessed long ago. Her father had wanted her to get on with her life. He had warned her not to grieve for him. He had had a good life, so he had said, and wanted his daughter to have the same. That was why she was to return to England and the bosom of her family. Some bosom Charles had turned out to be. At the thought, Georgiana wriggled her toes. The idea of Charles scouring the countryside for her, only to return, dusty and beaten, to the damp and musty Place, brought a glow of satisfaction to her honey-gold eyes. Serve him right.

“How long are we staying here?”

Cruickshank came to draw back the covers. Georgiana slid from the bed, busying herself with washing and dressing while she considered how best to answer. She had not discussed her plan to get a position with either of her servants, sure they would veto the idea as soon as they heard it. Come what may, she was determined to keep them with her. They were all that remained of her parents’ happy household.

So, standing patiently as Cruickshank laced her gown, she answered airily, “I’ll have to discuss the matter with Lady Wins…Bella. She seems to wish us to stay for a while.”

Cruickshank snorted. “So I gathered. Still, she seems a real lady; none of your hoity-toity airs about that one.”

Georgiana grinned, remembering Bella’s fussing the night before. It had been a long time since anyone other than Cruickshank had fussed over her.

After Cruickshank had settled her curls in a knot on the top of her head, Georgiana tentatively made her way downstairs. Johnson found her in the front hall and, gracious as ever, directed her to the breakfast parlour overlooking the rear gardens.

“There you are, my dear!”

Georgiana had the feeling Bella had been waiting for her to appear. Her hostess surged across the Turkey carpet in a cloud of fine-figured muslin. Georgiana returned her smile.

“Are you sure you’ve recovered from your ordeal?”

Georgiana flushed slightly and nodded. A man, somewhat older than Bella, had risen from the table to watch them, an affectionate smile on his thin lips. She felt forced to disclaim, “It was hardly an ordeal, ma’am.”

“Ma’am? I thought I told you to call me Bella.” Bella smiled mischievously. “And of course it was an ordeal. Fleeing from horrible Charles was always an ordeal.”

Georgiana stopped and stared. “You know Charles?”

Bella’s big blue eyes opened wide. “But of course. Didn’t I mention it last night?”

When Georgiana shook her head, Bella tucked her arm in hers and drew her guest to the table.

“But we were neighbours; you know that. Of course, Charles came over to play sometimes. But he never got on with Dominic and the other boys, mainly because he was younger and always tried to show off. He used to tease me unmercifully. At least, he did if Dominic wasn’t around. So, you see, I know just what it feels like to run away from your cousin Charles. And I can’t think he’s improved with age.”

Standing by the chair beside her new friend, Georgiana shook her head. “I expect you’re right.” She looked expectantly at the man. He smiled and bowed slightly.

“Permit me to introduce myself, my dear. I’m afraid, if we wait for Bella to remember my existence, we might not be introduced until dinner.”

“Oh, fustian!” said Bella, catching his hand and giving it a little shake. “My dear Georgiana, allow me to present my husband, Arthur.”

Georgiana dropped a demure curtsy, hiding her surprise. She had not thought about Bella’s husband at all, but would never have imagined the youthful Bella married to a man so much older. As she straightened, her eyes met his, grey and kindly, and she had the feeling of being read like a book. But then he smiled, such a sweet smile, and suddenly it no longer seemed so odd that Bella should be his wife.

“Miss Hartley. Might I say how pleased we are to welcome you to our home?”

Georgiana murmured her thanks.

Over breakfast, Lord Winsmere made little comment, but contented himself with listening as Bella and she discussed feminine interests.

“I see you are out of blacks,” said Bella. “So fortunate.”

Georgiana hesitated, then explained, “Actually, it’s only four months since my father died, but he made me promise that I wouldn’t go into mourning for him. But—” she shrugged slightly “—I thought greys and lilacs were a reasonable compromise.”

Bella’s candid gaze assessed her dispassionately. “I must say, if your father was a painter, I can understand why he was so insistent you stay out of black. With your skin, it would certainly not suit.”

Georgiana grinned. “I’m not certain that wasn’t at the back of his mind when he made his request.”

As she turned her attention to her piece of toast, she was conscious of his lordship’s grey eyes resting on her with approval.

In fact, Lord Winsmere was pleased to approve of his wife’s prospective protégée. Georgiana Hartley, he decided, was a neat little thing. His eye had seen too many beauties to class her as one, but her features were pure and, with the gloss of a little animation, presently lacking, she could lay claim to the appellation of attractive with ease. She was petite, but her figure was full and delicately curved, not unlike Bella’s curvaceous form. And, more important than any other quality, the girl from Italy was not missish. Which was just as well, if she was to deal with his forthright Bella. All in all, Bella’s assessment had been accurate. Miss Georgiana Hartley was eminently acceptable.

When the ladies left him to his coffee and the morning’s news-sheet, he spent some time in a blank study of the parlour door. Undoubtedly, Dominic had done right in sending Georgiana to Winsmere House. There was little hope such an attractive miss could find decent employment without subjecting herself to dangers he, for one, did not wish to contemplate. Dominic’s plan to introduce her into society was a wise one. Thus far, the young lady seemed of a most amenable disposition. And, although not highly born, her lineage was not beneath consideration. He had checked for himself in the Register of Landowners. The Hartleys had been an unremarkable family for generations, but they were nevertheless of good stock. She would make some young squire an unexceptionable wife.

However, more importantly from his point of view, her presence would ease Bella’s boredom. His darling had talked non-stop since rising this morning, a sure sign of happiness.

With a smile at his own susceptibilities, Lord Winsmere rose and, taking up his unread news-sheet, retired to the library. For once, Dominic seemed to have bestirred himself for purely philanthropic reasons. His scheme was in the girl’s best interests and would keep Bella amused. There was no reason to interfere. Bella could entangle herself in the chit’s life to her heart’s content. Neither would take any ill. As his shrewd brain began to sort through the potential ramifications of his brother-in-law’s plan, Lord Winsmere’s brows rose. His lips curved slightly. In the end, who knew what might come of it?

“NOW, GEORGIE, promise me you won’t put me to the blush,” said Bella, firmly drawing on her gloves as the carriage drew to a standstill. “I couldn’t endure it in front of Fancon. The woman’s a terror. Lord only knows what damage she could do to your chances if she heard you asking about the price of a gown.”

Georgiana blushed. The slight frown on her friend’s face told her Bella was not yet convinced she had won their last battle. Georgiana simply couldn’t see the necessity for new gowns for herself. Surely it was not a requirement for a companion to be fashionably dressed? But Bella had been adamant.

“Just wait until you are a companion before you start dressing like a dowd.”

At Georgiana’s instinctive and forlorn glance at her demure grey gown, Bella had been instantly contrite. “Oh, I don’t mean that! Your gowns are perfectly acceptable, you know they are. It’s just that for going out into society you need more…well, more society clothes. This is London, after all.”

Finally, worn down by Bella’s arguments, strengthened by the defection of Cruickshank, who had deciphered enough of their conversation to give her a hard stare, Georgiana had consented to accompany Bella to the salon of the modiste known as Fancon. It was her third day in London, and she was beginning to feel at home in the large mansion on Green Street. Lord Winsmere was all that was kind. And Bella, of course, was Bella. Georgiana was overwhelmed by their kindness. But not so overwhelmed that she would consent to Bella’s buying her new gowns.

“If I must have new gowns to go about and become known, then of course I’ll pay for them.” Her calm statement had caused Bella to look at her in concern.

“But, my dear Georgie, gowns, you know…well, they’re not all that…I mean to say…” The garrulous Bella had flustered to a halt.

The drift of her thoughts had reached Georgiana. “Oh! Did you think I have no money?”

Bella’s eyes widened. “Well, I thought you might not be exactly flush, what with your trip and expecting your uncle to be there to help at the end of it.”

Georgiana smiled affectionately. They had thought her a pauper but had still wanted to help. She knew enough of the world to appreciate such sentiments. “Not a bit of it. My father left me reasonably well to do—or at least, that’s how my Italian solicitors described it. I don’t know what exactly that means, but I have funds deposited here on which I may draw.”

To her relief, Lord Winsmere had insisted on accompanying her to the bank her father had patronised. She had little doubt it was his lordship’s standing that had resulted in such prompt and polite service. There had been no difficulty in establishing her bona fides through papers she had carried from Italy.

While waiting for the carriage to stop rocking, Georgiana glanced at Bella’s profile. They had taken to each other as if each were the sister the other had never had. “Only two gowns, mind.”

Bella turned, her eyes narrowing. “Two day gowns and an evening gown.” She stared uncompromisingly at Georgiana.

With a wry grimace, Georgiana acquiesced. “All right. And an evening gown. But nothing too elaborate,” she added, as the groom opened the door.

Together they entered the discreet establishment of Fancon. A woman dressed in severe black glided forward to greet them. Her black hair was pulled back and, it appeared to Georgiana, forcibly restrained in a tight bun. Black eyes, like gimlets, sharp and shuttered, assessed her. This, she soon learned, was the great Fancon herself. Imbued with suitable awe, Georgiana noted a certain restraint in the woman’s manner and was careful to give no cause for offence.

Half an hour passed in the most pleasant of occupations. Fancon had numerous gowns to choose from. Georgiana tried on a great many. There were fabrics, too, which could be fashioned to any style she wished. Georgiana found Bella’s interest infectious. And she could not resist the temptation to indulge in Fancon’s elegant creations. However, true to her word, she chose only two day dresses, one in softest lilac, the other a deep mauve. Both suited her well, their high waists outlining her youthful figure. She feared that Fancon would be irritated by her meagre order, particularly after the woman had been so insistent she try on such a great number of gowns. Yet nothing but the most complete equanimity showed on the modiste’s stern face.

Much discussion went into the creation of an evening gown. The styles which favoured her were easy enough to decide. Yet there was nothing suitable made up.

“Your colouring, Miss Hartley, is less pale than the norm. It is no matter. We will decide on the fabric, and I will have my seamstresses work up the gown by tomorrow.” With a calm wave of her hand, Fancon summoned her underlings. They brought bolts of fine cloth, in mauves and lilacs. While Georgiana stood, wreathed in fabric, Bella and Fancon studied her critically. Georgiana, too, watched proceedings in the mirror.

“It must show you off to your greatest advantage,” declared Bella.

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.