An Elegant Façade (Hawthorne House Book #2) (7 page)

Confusion once more weighed his face into a blank mask before he turned that awkward small smile back to Miranda. “How did you manage that?”

Miranda glared at Georgina before answering. Georgina hid her shrug in a shift of her seating position, trying to look as if Miranda’s answer was the most interesting thing in the world. Mr. Sherbourne apparently thought it was.

His next two comments were directed straight to Miranda, and when he took his leave, his good-bye was directed to her.

Georgina was quite proud of herself, though Miranda didn’t seem to appreciate the gesture. Perhaps Mr. Sherbourne wasn’t the man for her, but the encounter had given Georgina new purpose for the afternoon. Surely one of the men who came by today would be to her sister’s liking, as long as he wasn’t a man of great consequence.

She’d have to save those for herself.

Any man who didn’t suit her purposes, though, would find himself with an expanded esteem for Miranda, thanks to Georgina’s considerable practice and effort. If nothing else, Miranda’s rise in popularity would keep her from dragging Georgina’s reputation down.

If Miranda seemed to find the outcome less than helpful, Georgina was honest enough to admit her irritation made the whole thing more enjoyable.

As the third man departed, Miranda’s ears glowed red behind her yellow curls. Yes, she was well and truly mad. And she couldn’t do a thing about it.

Gibson strolled into the room once more. “The Earl of Ashcombe, my lady.”

Georgina sat up a little straighter. He wasn’t the duke, by any means, but the earl was young and titled, known to be plump in the pocket, and, most importantly, well-liked by men and women. He was considered a very good catch indeed.

Miranda sat up a bit straighter as well. Then she stood. What was going on? When she walked to the door at the back of the room, Georgina’s concern grew. Everyone knew the two had considered courting during Miranda’s first Season, but that had been years ago. Surely all feelings of animosity had faded by now.

The earl entered and winked at Georgina. Dreadfully cheeky of the man, but a light flirtation was a sign that the man was interested. The interest of a wealthy, titled, popular man was always helpful.

He was startlingly handsome, almost irritatingly so. His dark hair was perfectly combed, his bold blue jacket and tan trousers precisely tailored. Together they would make the most striking couple.

Georgina shoved Miranda’s discomfort from her mind and flashed Lord Ashcombe the coy smile she’d practiced in the mirror for hours. “How nice of you to come.”

God save him from idiotic lovesick fools. Colin reached down between his feet and plucked a few blades of grass. Ryland sat on
the bench next to him in the middle of Grosvenor Square, growling at each gentleman who entered the house across the street instead of enjoying the beauty of the park.

Of all the things Colin could be doing with his afternoon, watching callers come and go from Hawthorne House ranked right below scouring the docks for a missing piece of cargo and right above telling Mr. Mathers again that he refused to seek investors for the man’s preposterous scheme to build a floating pleasure castle in the English Channel. For pity’s sake, there was a war going on. Who would want to sail into the middle of it for a party?

A group of
ton
women exited a carriage, packages stacked three high on top. Very well, this bored lot might get a thrill from partying in the middle of a war zone, but Colin refused to have anything to do with such idiocy.

Instead he’d embroiled himself in the slightly more palatable idiocy taking place in the middle of Mayfair.

Colin glanced sideways as Ryland growled once again, the tension in his shoulders threatening to rip his well-tailored jacket at the seams. While they weren’t likely to die from this escapade, they certainly weren’t going to accomplish anything. Was Ryland planning on sitting here all afternoon?

What was supposed to have been a brief visit on Colin’s way to the club had turned into an entire day of moral support. Ryland had indeed talked to Miranda last night, but he’d kept his mask on. She still didn’t know he was the valet she’d met last fall. That was going to change today.

If they ever managed to make it to the house.

The Earl of Ashcombe strolled down the street, a clutch of bright pink roses in his hand. He bounded up the stairs to Hawthorne House’s door with a smug smile.

Beside him, Ryland ground his heel into the dirt.

Colin twined his blades of grass into a ring and tried to toss it onto a nearby tree branch. It bounced off. “Think any of them are here to visit her?”

“Only the smart ones,” Ryland said.

“So none, then.”

The pithy comment drew a laugh from Ryland, as it was intended to. There was a certain truth to the statement though. When it came to personal dealings, some of the trappings of London’s high society seemed utterly ridiculous. Why had no one questioned them?

He supposed growing up and socializing in Scotland and at sea had given him a different perspective on the formal rituals. The Scots enjoyed their pomp and ceremony when the occasion warranted it, but they also appreciated simple things. When one was at sea, it was sometimes a celebration just to be alive when sailing into port.

After seven agonizing minutes—he knew because he’d counted the seconds—Colin pushed to his feet. “This isn’t a campaign, chap. We either go in or we don’t.”

Another thirty seconds went by before the earl departed. That hadn’t taken long.

Without a word, Ryland rose to his feet and crossed Grosvenor Square. Colin followed on his heels. Why had he agreed to this again?

The butler opened the door, and Colin handed him his card with a feeling of resignation swirling through his gut. The servant didn’t look very impressed, but Colin hadn’t expected him to. This was the butler of a duke. And while Colin had been to the house more than once for business, this butler was now manning the portal of a popular young woman. He saw the best of the best. A mere mister with a Scotch-Irish history wasn’t going to impress him.

Ryland fumbled in his pockets.

This was why Colin had agreed to suffer through an afternoon social call. Ryland’s social skills were more than rusty after nine years in the shadows, and there was a lot riding on this visit for him. He would likely either leave engaged or unconscious, depending on how things went with Lady Miranda and her brothers.

Women weren’t usually forgiving when they learned they’d been fooled, and men were rarely restrained when a sister felt her honor
had been slighted. Yes, it was very possible Ryland would end up on the wrong side of a fist before the afternoon was over, especially if Lord Trent was in residence. Riverton was a large man but not known for fighting. However, Lord Trent had been training with Gentleman Jack, and the man didn’t take on anything less than the best pugilists.

Finally Ryland pulled a card out of his pocket. The butler was decidedly more impressed with this card, which was to be expected as even the servants would know about the great mystery surrounding the Duke of Marshington.

“If you will wait here”—the tall, thin man gestured them into the front hall—“I will announce your presence.”

Ryland reached out a hand. “Hold, man,” he said softly. “Who all is in the drawing room?”

Poor bloke. He was really nervous. Colin gave a mental shrug and waved at the rest of his afternoon as it sailed away. Ryland needed moral support if nothing else, so Colin would stay. He’d suffered much greater trials in the name of friendship over the years.

“Lady Blackstone and Lady Georgina, Your Grace,” the butler said.

Colin nearly groaned at the reminder that visiting the love of Ryland’s life meant spending time with that calculating busybody as well.

Ryland’s heavy hand landed on Colin’s shoulder. “Enjoy their company, my good man. I’ve business with Griffith to take care of first.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed at Ryland. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Ryland strode off toward the back of the house.

He had. Colin gritted his teeth. They didn’t normally keep score of who had helped whom last, but this time Ryland was going to owe him. Spending time in a drawing room with Lady Georgina was going to be far more excruciating than providing a night’s shelter to a French informant or investigating estates and businesses to tell Ryland which smuggling suspects had more money than they should.

At the very least this was going to be enough of a favor for Colin
to stop hearing about that knife wound Ryland had suffered on his behalf. Not that Colin would have been in danger if he hadn’t been coming to meet Ryland, so in a way the knife wound wasn’t Colin’s fault at all.

Which meant Ryland was going to be deeply indebted to Colin for this visit.

“This way, sir.” The butler stood at the entrance to a drawing room, ready to announce Colin’s arrival.

Colin went, the resignation in his stomach boiling into dread. To leave now would be the height of rudeness. Besides, there was still the question of whether or not Ryland would be able to leave under his own power or if one of Miranda’s brothers would knock him on his backside.

Colin stopped by the butler. “Is Lord Trent here?”

The butler simply raised a brow.

Right.
Colin wasn’t important enough to merit such information. He’d have to assume the younger man was here and would cause potential problems for Ryland. It might be messy, but the scene in the study was going to be much more interesting than making small talk with a woman who looked down on him.

The butler announced him, and with the silent hope that Lady Blackstone was more like her elder daughter than her younger, Colin stepped into the whitest room he’d ever seen.

White furniture, white walls, white everything, with only the occasional splash of gold to break the monotony. And in the center, perched like a queen on a white-and-gold-striped throne, was Lady Georgina. Dressed in white.
Good gracious.

“Good afternoon, my lady.” Colin bowed to the woman he assumed to be Lady Blackstone. She was very obviously Lady Georgina’s mother. He then turned and bowed to Lady Georgina. “My lady.”

Lady Georgina’s nose wrinkled as if she could smell his lower social station. Maybe she could. Ambitious girls acquired peculiar talents. “Mother, may I present Mr. McCrae? Mr. McCrae, my mother, Lady Blackstone.”

Lady Blackstone gestured for him to sit across from her. “I’m afraid we haven’t met.”

“I am a . . .”
Business partner? Friend?
“I am an acquaintance of your sons.”

“Of course. A pleasure to meet you.” She nodded her head, her eyes still curious.

Colin turned to Lady Georgina. “And you, Lady Georgina, how good to see you again.” He fought back a devious grin as her eyes widened. Perhaps he could make this an enjoyable afternoon after all. “I enjoyed our dance last evening.”

Georgina dug her fingernails into her palm. What did the infernal man hope to accomplish by bringing up their dance? Mother was intrigued enough by his presence as it was. If she knew Georgina had deigned to dance with a man of his station, she would be positively overcome with curiosity. “As did I, of course.”

Mr. McCrae settled into the seat Georgina’s mother indicated. “The weather is pleasant this afternoon. I’ve been enjoying the fresh air in Grosvenor Square.”

Georgina smiled, avoiding her mother’s eyes. She did not want to talk to this man. What possessed him to come calling? He could hardly think their brief encounter the night before constituted interest on her side.

“It must have been lovely.” Mother rushed in to rescue Georgina from a social disgrace. Though why it should matter, Georgina had no idea. Mr. McCrae’s only significance came from his pocketbook. She knew because she’d made a few discreet inquiries at the ball last night.

“Yes, quite.” Mr. McCrae cast a glance at the door.

Was he . . . irritated? It was the best description Georgina could think of for his expression.

Mr. McCrae addressed Mother again. “I’m afraid I missed seeing you last evening. Were you in costume?”

“Not really.” Mother set aside her needlework. “I had my dressmaker re-create a favorite gown of mine from when I was Georgina’s age.”

“Nostalgia brings beauty, when the memory is a pleasant one. I’m sorry to have missed you. You must have looked lovely.”

Was Mother blushing?

“Thank you, Mr. McCrae. I admit it was delightful to relive my youth, though my dancing partners have changed over the years.”

Georgina’s gaze flipped back and forth between Mother and Mr. McCrae. What was going on here? Was she being ignored?

Mr. McCrae leaned forward. “I don’t know when we’ll next be at the same function, Lady Blackstone, but I would be ever so honored if you would save me a dance when the event occurs.”

Mother preened. Did Georgina look like that when men complimented her? She’d have to practice in the mirror more.

“If you wish, Mr. McCrae. Though I wouldn’t want to take you away from the younger ladies. I’ve had my time—twice, if you will—and I’d not take the pleasure from one of them.”

“He dances superbly.” Georgina clapped a hand over her mouth, then tried to disguise the reaction with an ill-bred scratching of her nose. She never scratched her nose in public. One more sin to lay at Mr. McCrae’s feet.

The man was laughing. To the innocent observer, which her mother apparently was, it was a humble laugh. The kind men give when they’ve been unexpectedly complimented and can’t hide their pleasure.

Georgina knew better.

He was laughing at her. Odious man.

He smiled at her, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I thank you for the gracious compliment, Lady Georgina. Our dance was so early in the evening I was sure you had forgotten about it.”

She’d wanted to forget about it. Should have forgotten about it. He did not fit into her plan.

And she couldn’t afford to step away from the plan.

“I never forget a pleasant interlude, Mr. McCrae.” She tried to bite her tongue. Mother would be cross if Georgina finished the sentence as she wanted to. The words seemed to tumble out of their own accord. “Nor an unpleasant one.”

Mother sucked in her breath.

Georgina glanced at her from the corner of her eye.

Cross didn’t begin to describe her mother. Georgina was going to hear about this for the rest of the week.

Odious man.

“A good memory is an asset to a young lady, I’m sure. You wouldn’t want to risk repeating the unpleasant memories,” Mr. McCrae said.

“No.” What was the man up to now?

“As I told your dear mother, I don’t know when our paths will cross socially again, but feel free to claim a prior obligation to dance with me should you need an excuse to avoid one of those unpleasant encounters.”

He was giving her a way out. How dare he do something nice when she was determined to dislike him?

“That is most generous of you, sir.” It actually was. He was offering to come to her rescue whenever she wished. Her mother looked slightly appeased. Perhaps Georgina could avoid a lecture after all. “I hope to never need to take you up on your offer. Our encounters should only happen under the best of circumstances.”

He sat back in his chair, one side of his mouth twitching. Was he fighting the urge to smirk? The cad. He was enjoying this veiled battle of wits.

A muffled crash echoed from the back of the house.

“What on earth?” Mother twisted in her seat to look at the door leading from the main hall. “Gibson?”

The butler appeared at the door instantly. “Yes, my lady?”

“Go find out what that awful racket was. And don’t admit anyone else until we sort it out.” She looked worried as she turned back to Mr. McCrae. “Mr. McCrae, I do apologize—”

He waved a hand in the air. “Think nothing of it, my lady. I arrived with a friend who had business with His Grace. I’m sure that was a reaction of . . . er, surprise that we heard.”

Georgina’s eyes narrowed. He was laughing. No sound emerged, but his shoulders were clearly shaking. He’d angled himself on the settee in an attempt to disguise it, but he obviously knew what the sound had been and found it humorous.

“Whom did you arrive with?” Georgina latched on to the most important information he’d revealed.

“Hmmm?” Mr. McCrae turned his head from the door with a smile still tugging at his lips. “Oh, Ry—the Duke of Marshington.”

“The real duke?” Mother asked.

He’d started to call the duke by another name. What was the duke’s first name again? Georgina couldn’t recall but was willing to bet that’s what Mr. McCrae had started to call him.

If he was that intimate a friend of the duke’s, she might need to rethink her strategy. He could be useful.

“Yes, my lady,” Mr. McCrae said. “He decided to return to London this year. I believe he’s even planning on taking up his seat in the House of Lords.”

“How wonderful! Griffith will be pleased. He’s missed Marshington since school.”

Mr. McCrae cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, the first sign of awkwardness he’d shown since he arrived. “Yes. I believe Marshington is also looking forward to renewing the acquaintance.”

Georgina’s eyes narrowed. What was the odious man hiding?

Another loud noise drifted through the house. Was that shouting? It almost sounded like Miranda. Georgina frowned. All the signs pointed toward Georgina having a brilliant chance to land the Duke of Marshington. If Miranda ruined those chances, Georgina would never forgive her.

A door slammed and quick, light footsteps crossed the hall to fade up the main stairs.

Mother rose from her seat, trying and failing not to appear worried.

Mr. McCrae rose as well, a decidedly lighter expression on his face. He looked amused.

“I believe I will . . . be back in a moment.” Mother scurried out the door.

Mother never scurried.

Mr. McCrae released a full grin as Georgina’s mother departed.

“You know something,” Georgina said.

“Indeed I do.” He turned the grin on her.

It was a shame that those handsome features were wasted on such an odious man. What were other words for
odious
? She’d have to ask Harriette, because if Georgina was going to continue to have interactions with Mr. McCrae, she was going to need every vile descriptor she could think of. “Marshington had business with my brother, you say?”

His grin widened. “Yes. Of a personal nature. Putting things in order to take up his rightful place and all.”

Georgina’s heart danced in her chest. It was happening! Everything was going according to plan. She’d be safe by Season’s end for sure. If this Mr. McCrae was such a close friend of the duke’s, it would be best to leave a good impression in his mind despite her dislike of him.

“Is he going to be long? I could arrange for tea.”

Mr. McCrae shook his head. “I doubt it will be much longer now.”

“What do you think he’s doing in there?” Georgina plucked at the edge of the settee cushion.

“Why do you care?”

“Griffith is my brother. I care deeply about all his affairs. We’re a very close family, you know.”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh? Well, if it concerns you I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

Georgina’s palms began to itch. Mr. McCrae knew why Marshington was here, she could tell. He was too amused. As if he knew what all the mysterious sounds indicated.

“Is he planning to marry this year? I can’t think why else he’d end his seclusion.”

“Can’t you?” He looked at her, something unreadable passing his face. She didn’t like not being able to guess what he was thinking. “No, I don’t suppose you can. Fortunately for the world, Lady Georgina, the rest of us can think of important things aside from advantageous marriage settlements.”

Georgina gasped.

Mr. McCrae grinned. Infuriating, odious man.

Suddenly the grin left his face and he rushed across the room to the door. “My lady? Are you well?”

Georgina rose to her feet. Her mother was in the doorway looking pinched and pale. “Mother?”

Mother pulled in a deep breath and straightened her back. “The Duke of Marshington is on the floor in Griffith’s study. Unconscious.”

Colin laughed. He couldn’t stop it. Hearing that Ryland had been laid out on the floor was the funniest thing he’d heard in a long time.

He quickly got himself under control and assured the frantic Lady Blackstone that he could get Ryland home with no one the wiser. Understandably, she didn’t want it known that the heretofore missing peer of the realm had to be hauled from her son’s home like a dead body. Nor did she think it wise for the duke to remain in residence, given Lord Trent’s current mindset.

It took some maneuvering, but they managed to bring Ryland’s carriage down the alley behind the house. Colin, Riverton, and Lord Trent tried to nonchalantly carry the blanket-covered body of the Duke of Marshington through the back garden to the carriage.

Colin couldn’t stop laughing at the ridiculous scene they were creating.

Riverton glanced over as another chuckle escaped Colin’s lips. “It is funny.”

“Aye,” Colin said, grinning. He shifted his hold on Ryland’s
shoulder. A decade of spy work had left the man a tower of heavy, solid muscle.

They slid Ryland onto the carriage seat. He only suffered two additional bumps to the head during their efforts. Colin shrugged. Ryland was going to have a devil of a headache anyway. Getting knocked against a marble mantelpiece could do that to a man.

Colin climbed into the carriage but lingered in the open doorway. He shouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place. But Riverton had been a friend as well as a business partner, and Colin hated to see him caught off guard. “Ryland’s made a career of keeping secrets, Riverton, but he’s still a gentleman. No doubt you’ll have an upset sister when this is all through, but it won’t be Lady Miranda.”

Riverton’s look was hard. Colin could see the strength that made him a formidable duke. Colin knew from rumor and experience that Riverton was a good and fair man, but even the most noble of men had been known to bend their scruples when it came to protecting family.

“What do you know, Mr. McCrae?”

A helpful nudge was one thing, but Colin drew the line at spilling his secrets in a fountain of gossip. Knowledge was power, after all. “More than I should but not enough to say any more than I have, Your Grace.”

He tipped his hat and sat back in his seat, praying Riverton wouldn’t press him, pleased when Riverton slammed the door shut and the carriage pulled away.

Why did Colin keep opening his mouth to try to help these people? Normally he kept far away from people’s personal affairs, but since Ryland had returned to London, Colin couldn’t seem to stop meddling. He’d always felt God wanted him to change the world, be an example of integrity in business, but never had he felt God wanting him to reach into people’s lives.

Part of him felt bad for Lady Georgina’s forthcoming heartbreak, though why it bothered him he couldn’t say. By all accounts she was a girl who needed to be put in her place, but something stopped him from writing her off completely.

Ryland’s head rolled.

Colin slouched and stretched his legs out to prop his feet on the facing seat. He didn’t want the poor man falling to the floor. He’d suffered enough for King and country, not to mention saving Colin’s life five years prior. The least Colin could do was see him comfortably home.

“Lady Georgina,” Colin mumbled. She was a puzzle. He did have to admit the slightest bit of admiration for the way she seemed to be playing society to her advantage. Based on this morning’s paper and the talk he’d heard at the club, everyone thought she was a spectacular young lady.

Her manipulations had an edge to them though. Mercenary? Desperate? He wasn’t sure. Maybe that was what intrigued him. She had a hidden depth—very hidden but there nonetheless.

He shrugged. It was unlikely he—a mere mister, and a Scottish one involved in business, at that—would be the one to unravel her mystery. He would never be a suitable match for one such as her.