Divine (39 page)

Lady Ambrosia arrived a short while later in a rose pink dress which, as usual, hid few of her charms. She threatened to tumble out of it as she sank into a polite curtsy. Sir Henry arrived right after the vicar, giving Georgiana an exceptionally fond kiss on the cheek. Or at least what seemed like a kiss despite the bristle of his mustache.

To one and all, Arthur made excuses for Sebastian’s absence. Though he hinted over and over there would soon be a stronger ‘connection’ between the Knight family and Lord Stratton.

It was clearly one of the best nights of his life.

For her part, Georgiana wore an ice blue ball gown of duponi silk with tiny puffed sleeves. An embroidered sheer overdress, studded with rhinestones, flowed behind her. It was her favorite dress; she and the costume designer from Cosprop had worked for nearly a month to get it just right.

Though fashionably low-cut, the bodice was just loose enough to accommodate a small can of mace; the forged love letter and a stun gun rested in her reticule. Though danger seemed unlikely tonight. Thankfully. With pearls threaded through her hair and fashionable curls framing her face, she felt in her element.

If only Sebastian were at her side, the evening would be complete.

The fake love letter consumed her thoughts. How bitterly disappointing to find it was a forgery. She had so been looking forward to writing it for Sebastian.

Were it not for the ball, she would have set out immediately for Lyndenbrooke and Stratton Hall. She was positive that was where Sebastian had gone.

Well, maybe.

If
the letter was the one he had received that morning.

But what if he had received the letter several days earlier? What if he had already sent word to Lyndenbrooke and ascertained the letter was a fake? Though the letter was dated October third, which meant it had been ‘written’ and posted only a few days ago . . .

Where
had
Sebastian gone?

It was so maddening to just sit and do nothing. But with Lord Zeus still obviously about, doing anything else would be foolishly stupid.

Georgiana loved mysteries, but even she knew when to stay put.

And so with a smile on her face, she danced the opening set with Arthur, who was in high spirits over the success of the evening. Linwood claimed the next set and was taciturn as ever, giving monosyllabic answers to all her questions.

Thankfully, Captain Phillips, who had arrived late, claimed her hand next.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Captain,” she said as he twirled her in a waltz.

He smiled amiably. “Thank you, Miss Knight. You look lovely this evening. I overheard your brother speaking with the vicar and, unless I am being impertinent, I believe congratulations are in order.” He gave an arch grin.

Georgiana laughed. “Congratulations might be a bit premature, Captain, but I shall be most glad to see Lord Stratton again. Arthur said he left in such a hurry this morning. Would you happen to know where he went or when he might return?”

Phillips shrugged. “It is so hard to say with Stratton. I arrived after his departure, and he made no mention of a trip in his letters to me.”

“Oh.” Disappointment must have shown on her face.

“But I do know a few things,” Phillips began hesitantly. “Perhaps between what you know and what I know, we could make a whole of it?”

“What a perfect suggestion, Captain—”

“Of course, a dance floor is hardly the best place for such a conversation. Perhaps you would be willing to meet me out in the garden in, say, fifteen minutes?”

“The garden?” Georgiana laughed. “Heavens, you have not been back from war long enough, Captain. Meeting in such a secluded place would surely leave us open to gossip.” She thought for a second. “Arthur’s study should be fine. I believe Marianne had the fire lit, and we will leave the door ajar. Fifteen minutes did you say?”

Phillips nodded, a smile teasing his lips. “Fifteen minutes.”

Georgiana was in the study five minutes early, seated and studying the mysterious forged letter by light of the candelabra on Arthur’s desk. Only her finger twining around and around the strings of her reticule on the desktop betrayed her impatience. A knock on the open door caused her to jump, dropping the letter to the desk surface.

“Beg your pardon. You were expecting me, were you not?” Phillips said impudently, walking into the room. He gave her a short bow and solicitously set the door to be slightly ajar.

“Miss Knight, I am so glad you have finally returned. I can only imagine Stratton’s dismay when he discovers how narrowly he missed seeing you.” He studied her for a moment. “To be honest, when you first disappeared, I thought Stratton had spirited you away, taken you off to Gretna Green or some such.”

Georgiana gave a small laugh, placing her hand over the letter. “Yes, that would have been quite the scandal. As I am sure my brother mentioned, I was called away to tend to a sickly aunt in Shropshire.”

Phillips nodded. They studied each other for a few moments, his eyes flicking to her hand over the letter. A few candles danced around the perimeter of the room, but after the blazing light of the ballroom, the study was dim.

“Well, Captain, let us compare notes.” She indicated the seat across the desk from her.

He nodded again, thoughtfully, folding himself into the chair opposite.

“I must be honest, Miss Knight. Stratton is my particular friend, and I want what is best for him,” he said, casually tugging on the sleeves of his coat. “Though I know he thinks most highly of you, I wonder if you are worthy of his trust.”

The air in the room shifted slightly. He leaned back in the leather chair, arms folded across his chest, face suddenly devoid of any good humor. Every inch of him a military man of action.

“We both know the sickly aunt in Shropshire is a lovely fiction.” His eyes studied her. “Stratton is a good man, and it sickens me to see someone toying with his affections. What precisely is your game, Miss Knight? Where
have
you been the last three weeks?”

Georgiana studied Phillips for a moment. According to Arthur, Phillips had been absent from Haldon Manor ever since Sebastian had returned. Had Phillips and Sebastian corresponded during that time? Had Sebastian confided in him? And if so, why was Phillips acting so severe toward her?

“Really, Captain. Such accusations are not worthy of you. Why would you doubt the veracity of my story—”

“I doubt the truthfulness of everything, Miss Knight. I doubt you even
have
an aunt in Shropshire. I doubt you had consumption last year. If I did not know for a fact that you were indeed Miss Knight of Haldon Manor, I would doubt even that.”

Georgiana sighed. This conversation was not going quite as she would have hoped.

Again, how much did he know?

“Your loyalty to Lord Stratton is to be commended, Captain. But I assure you, I also have his best interests at heart. In fact, I was hoping we could pool our mutual information—”

“Why should I tell you anything, Miss Knight?”

She blinked.

Phillips shifted in his chair. “You give me no explanation and yet expect
me
to offer information—”

“Please, Captain, questions about myself are moot. Lord Stratton knows everything about me and my history. If he wished you to know, he would have told you.”

“Ah.” The word hung between them. “So you admit there is more to your tale than you let on. Again, what is your game, Miss Knight?”

They studied each other for a few heartbeats. Georgiana glanced down at the letter she held. Perhaps there was a simple way of knowing how much Sebastian had confided in Phillips.

Calmly, she reached for the quill sitting in its inkwell. It only took a second and two swipes with the pen to create the Zeus symbol.

There, on the edge of the letter.

She replaced the quill and edged the letter toward Phillips, allowing him to see the mark she had drawn, observing him carefully.

His reaction was subtle. A slight tensing around the eyes, his smile a little too forced when he sat back in his chair.

“You write me odd symbols, Miss Knight? Is it a game you and Stratton play?”

“No. It is not a game, Captain. Far from it.”

Georgiana’s mind played through all the possible reasons for Phillips’ reaction.

He had clearly recognized the symbol, of that she was sure. But if Sebastian had told him about it, why not admit it? Her writing the symbol would indicate she knew about Lord Zeus too, that she was in Sebastian’s confidence.

Unless Sebastian had
not
confided in him about the symbol.

Which meant Phillips knew about it some other way.

But how else would he know about the symbol?

Something crystallized within her. A sharp moment of revelation.

A terrible, horrible suspicion. A possibility she had not foreseen.

None of them had.

Phillips seemed so genuine.

But . . .

Wasn’t that what they said about all criminal masterminds?

He still seemed nice, sitting there calmly across from her. However, small things betrayed his tension. His hands gripping the chair too tightly, his posture a little too erect.

Despite her attempts to keep her face emotionless, a startled gasp escaped her. Was she truly sitting across from a vicious villain?

The atmosphere changed, becoming instantly charged.

Amiable Captain Phillips suddenly disappeared, all smiles gone. He became a menacing, hard-eyed man, the whites of his eyes a little crazy around the edges.

Voices from the great hall buzzed in the background, the strains of the orchestra underlying it all.

She swallowed and casually picked up her reticule, the stun gun inside a comforting weight. Proud of how little her hands shook.

“I believe I have found out all I need to know.” Georgiana stood and walked swiftly around the desk, intent on the doorway and escape.

He quickly stood as she rounded the desk and grabbed her arm. Holding her tight, eyes flinty and implacable.

“Oh no, Miss Knight. You will not be leaving so readily.”

Chapter 25

G
eorgiana lifted her chin and gathered bravado around her.

“Captain, this is absurd. You are a guest in my brother’s house. How dare you threaten me—”

With a harsh laugh, he shook her arm and pushed her—none too gently—into the chair he had just vacated.

Stripping the reticule out of her hand in the process and tossing it back on the desk.

He placed himself between her and the door, so close his legs nearly touched her knees. She had to crane her neck to look up at him.

“I admire your spirit, Miss Knight. Or may I call you Georgiana?”

“Miss Knight will do.” She tossed her head, trying not to stare longingly at the reticule now lying out of arm’s reach. “Shall I call you Lord Zeus?”

He shrugged. “Many have gone by that name over the years. Let us just say it is a title I . . . inherited.”

Trying to match his insouciance, she rose from the chair. The door was tantalizingly close.

He pressed her back into the seat with a rough, firm hand.

He
tsked
and made a shushing sound.

“No, that will not do, Georgiana. You play a dangerous, deep game. I think you are in far over your little head.” He leaned over her. “Such a pretty head it is. I would hate for anything to happen to it.”

Her reticule with the stun gun lay tauntingly on the desktop. The mace can pressed into her chest, buried in her stays. At least she still had
that
on her person. It wasn’t much protection, but it would be some. How to get it out?

He regarded her with dark, hooded eyes. His presence threatening.

Now terrified chills raced down her spine.

The sensation
should
have been thrilling
.

It wasn’t.

Why had she
ever
thought being held captive by a madman would be exciting?

He glanced at the desk and lifted the letter off of it.

Could she reach the stun gun in her reticule? If she had the right distraction . . .

“Why not have me break off with Sebastian? Why go to the trouble of a love letter?” She gestured toward the paper he held.

Mace and a stun gun. Both were in the room. Though there was always her taekwondo training too. Granted she was in a heavy ball gown.

“What? And have Stratton chase one of those wretched Burbank chits? Some pale London miss? No, thank you. My intentions are to ensure Stratton is convinced of your affections until
after
his birthday has passed.”

He regarded her with a leering smile that made her flesh crawl.

Again, not in an exciting way. Unfortunately.

“Let me be clear, shall I, my dearest Georgiana.” He ran a finger along her jaw. “From this point on, your future will be tied to your ability to make yourself . . . useful . . . to me. And we both know what happens to foolish women who stop being . . . useful.”

“Like poor Miss Franklin?” Georgiana was proud her voice didn’t quiver like her knees.