An Elegant Façade (Hawthorne House Book #2) (10 page)

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

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

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

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

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

Shameful.

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

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

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

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

Yes, it should have been perfect.

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

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

No one would dare cross his wife when he married.

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

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

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

Miranda started the next round of cards.

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

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

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

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

The one that did absolutely no good now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you’ve lost.”

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

“Then you aren’t looking closely.”

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

Georgina wasn’t even under his consideration.

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

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

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

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

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

Miranda plopped the queen of hearts on the table.

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

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

As soon as she thought of something to say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It had to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nearly nonexistent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Colin frowned at the wording of his thoughts. He had asked for a miraculous sign. “How is your evening?”

Lady Georgina startled at his voice, her eyes darting around. Whether to see who might notice her talking to someone of Colin’s ilk or looking for someone to save her he didn’t know.

“Well. Thank you, Mr. McCrae.”

“You remember my name. I’m flattered.”

“I am endeavoring to forget it, but you keep appearing.”

He nodded, searching, praying for the right words, wishing he’d been a little less obstinate in his prayers a few moments ago. He
turned so they were standing shoulder to shoulder, looking out the window into the night.

“Your sister doesn’t seem to care for Lord Ashcombe.” Colin winced. That had been rather blunt.

“That is probably why they didn’t marry.”

Was that disapproval in her voice? “You think they should have?”

“He’s a very eligible match.”

Colin gave up pretending to look through the window and turned to lean his shoulder against the glass so he could see her face better. “But she doesn’t care for him.”

She flipped open her fan, a gorgeous creation covered in painted vines and roses, and stirred the air with small flicks of her wrist, managing to aim the breeze so that it didn’t ruffle her coiffure. “What has that to do with anything?”

Colin opened his mouth and snapped it shut. While it was true that practical matches were still quite widespread, he’d seen more and more love matches over the years. It was a trend he heartily approved of, given the tense atmosphere his own parents’ practical marriage had created.

“She’s your sister.”

“Yes. She is.”

What had he expected? That she would open up and confide her deepest secrets to him? “May I give you a piece of advice?”

“Can I stop you?”

“You could walk away.”

“And you might follow. I seem to keep encountering you, Mr. McCrae, and I think we both know you will not suit my purposes. If having this conversation will keep you away from me, I’d like to get it over with.” The fan moved with a bit more vigor, sending the ringlets framing her face into a frothing dance of their own.

Colin crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “I applaud your honesty.”

“I despise your persistency.”

“Fair enough.” Colin collected his thoughts before plunging on. He was never this candid in public. He was well known for
dealing honestly with people, but he never waded into personal waters. “Your family needs to come before your marital goals.”

Lady Georgina’s eyebrows rose. “Is that all? And where is your family? I would venture a guess that you are rather far from home. Not many people raised in England speak with such a brogue.”

“Aye, I am far from home.” And even farther from his family. “Which is why I know what happens when someone puts their own gain above their family.”

“You know nothing about me or my family.”

“I know you’ve been setting your cap for the duke since he returned to London.”

She tilted her chin down and looked at him through her lashes. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was flirting with him. The fan slowed to a less agitated pace. “I’ve seen you as often as I’ve seen the duke this Season. More so. One might think you were jealous, Mr. McCrae.”

“One might think you were desperate, Lady Georgina.”

Her eyes widened and the fan stilled entirely. Had he hit the mark? Why would the daughter of a duke be desperate? She had years before people started whispering behind their fans.

She snapped her fan shut and shoved it into her reticule. “You hardly know my family. Why do you care?”

That wasn’t entirely true. He’d done a good bit of business with her elder brother. She wouldn’t have reason to know that though. “Consider me a concerned romantic.”

“Romantic? You wish to see me marry for love?”

As Lady Georgina obviously cared more for social status than anything else, he couldn’t care less if the schemer saddled herself with an ancient aristocrat with a penchant for gambling away the family coffers. But Ryland was a close friend and Colin was fast coming to like Lady Miranda. “Has love found you?”

She scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Then I have no opinion one way or the other as far as you’re concerned. But I’d hate to see you trample on your sister’s heart, as she seems the kind to be searching for love.”

Lady Georgina’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think Miranda is in love with Lord Ashcombe?”

Was the lady dense? “Nothing. She’s in love with someone else entirely.”

“What makes you the expert?”

Colin cast his eyes around the room, noting the couples that seemed more enamored with each other than their surroundings. “Observation.”

“Of a single night?”

“Of a single moment. Women in love have a certain look about them when the object of their affection is around.”

Lady Georgina turned to look over the room as well. Was she noting the same couples he did? “Simpering and weak?”

“No. Murderous. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin, you know.” Colin grinned as he pulled a coin from his pocket and flipped it in the air. “It’s always a gamble to see which way it will land.”

He caught the coin and placed it on the back of his hand, but nearly fumbled as he realized the description would fit Lady Georgina and himself. But there was no softer side to his disdain for the lady. There couldn’t be, for that way led to nothing but frustration and heartache. No doubt Lady Georgina was the emotional exception that proved the rule. One didn’t particularly need a heart to be angry.

Shoving the coin back into his pocket, he returned to his goal of getting through to Lady Miranda’s thickheaded sister. “I’m guessing it landed poorly for her with Lord Ashcombe. Don’t be the reason it goes wrong for her this time.”

Lady Georgina frowned. “I think we’re done here.”

“As you wish.” Colin bowed, hoping he’d said enough to at least make her think.

It was the longest carriage ride of her life, but Georgina kept her ire contained until they got home. Well, most of her ire. She
might have berated Miranda’s social skills a time or two on the way home, but compared to how she really felt about the evening, it was a mild chastisement indeed. Once home she rushed through the house to the safety of her room, sighing as she saw Harriette setting a hot mug of tea on the dressing table.

After dropping onto the chair, Georgina wrapped her hands around the mug. The warmth from the first sip flowed through her body and brought her a sense of calm.

Georgina took deep breaths while Harriette pulled pins from the coiffure that had taken nearly an hour to create. “She’s going to ruin everything, Harriette.”

Harriette’s eyes flitted to Georgina’s reflected gaze. Her forehead scrunched in confusion beneath her smoothed-back hair. “Who?”

Georgina sighed and took another sip of tea. “My sister. She’s determined to ruin me.”

“Oh.” Harriette’s confusion was obvious as she began unlacing Georgina’s dress. “I don’t think your sister would ruin you, my lady.”

“No?” Georgina rubbed her hands over her face. “I’ll be lucky if the Duke of Marshington ever speaks to me again. How am I supposed to convince the man he wants to marry me if my sister continues to act like a simple-headed ninny in his presence?”

Harriette’s hands paused. “Lady Miranda?”

“Unbelievable, I know.” Georgina nibbled on her lip until she caught Harriette’s disapproving glare in the mirror. Right. Nibbling would make her lips look flaky and craggy. “Maybe he didn’t notice. He has been gone for nine years.”

Harriette made soothing noises as she helped Georgina change clothes.

Georgina pulled her hair free of the night rail’s neckline. “He wouldn’t have come back to London if he weren’t looking for a bride.”

More encouraging noises came from the maid.

Was Harriette being condescending? Georgina narrowed her
eyes in the mirror as she sank back into the chair. “All I have to do is show him I’m the best candidate.”

The maid began pulling Georgina’s hair into a long braid. “You’ve put considerable effort into making yourself the best possible lady in the ballroom this Season. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about drawing the notice of an attractive match.”

Georgina burst from the chair and began to pace. “I need the best match, not an attractive match. I have to be the envy of everyone if I am to protect myself.”

She swung around to face the maid, who looked on with dark, sympathetic eyes. Georgina hated the note of panic that was creeping into her voice, but everything was turning out to be a bit harder than she had anticipated. “I have to be above reproach by the end of this Season, Harriette. If they find out . . . One day I’m going to get caught, Harriette, and if I’m not married when they find out I can’t do the things a lady is expected to do, my life will be over. No one will want me.”

Harriette said nothing as she urged Georgina back into the chair and set about redoing the braid her lady’s outburst had interrupted.

Exhaustion and relief that in this room at least she didn’t have to pretend brought a slump to Georgina’s shoulders. “If only I were one year older, Harriette. I know I could have made it work with the marquis if I had been out in society last Season.”

Harriette tugged Georgina’s hair a bit tighter than necessary, drawing forth a squeak of surprise. “Lord Raebourne fell in love. There is nothing you could have done to convince him to marry you instead.”

Georgina averted her face so Harriette couldn’t see the disgruntled pout. With her braid completed, she stood and began the process of shaking out her dress from the evening, examining the trim for tears and holes. “We don’t know that.”

Gentle hands removed the dress from Georgina’s fingers. “Yes, we do. Even you have to admit what a lovely woman Lady Raebourne is. She’s been quite nice to you, despite your attempts to ruin the match.”

While it might be true, Georgina didn’t really have to admit it.

“Would you like to practice your poem for Lady Jane’s gathering?” Harriette gestured toward the dressing table, where the slim book rested, mocking Georgina with its very presence.

The blue leather binding drew the eye, and more than once today Georgina had yearned to toss the thing through the window.

With arm extended as far as possible, she flipped the book open to the marked page. At this distance the words looked like an indistinguishable river of black bleeding across the page. Given enough time she could make out a printed page using some cumbersome techniques she and Harriette had devised, but it always brought on a headache.