Rogue Grooms (11 page)

“Exactly so. Well, Mr. Beaumont had been a friend of Sir Everett’s, and he and Georgina had become friends as well. By the time old Sir Everett died, Mr. Beaumont was quite ill. So he asked Georgina to marry him, and help keep his children at bay. So she did, and hired herself an art teacher. She had always been so talented, you see, and in the year she lived on Mr. Beaumont’s estate, she developed that talent into what you see now.”

“How did it end?”

“Mr. Beaumont died, of course. Peacefully, thanks to Georgina. He left all that was not entailed to her, which so infuriated his children. Georgina’s portion amounted to over fifty thousand pounds, you see.”

“Good gad,” Alex gasped. “Fifty thousand?”

“Yes.”

“I—never would have thought it so much.” Alex’s healthy color drained away, leaving him pale as the white damask of his chair. “She would never have me.”

“Why not?”

“A woman of such fortune?” He laughed, a humorless bark. “Of course she would not.”

“Most people would say that a woman of her background, despite her fortune
and
a flourishing career, would never be equal to a duke.”

“I am not most people.”

“No. You are not,” said Elizabeth. “You have been honest with me, Lord Wayland, so now I will be honest with you. I know that your family’s fortunes are not what they once were, due to the regrettable actions of your late brother.”

Alex nodded gravely. “I fear that is too true, Lady Elizabeth.”

“I also know that Georgina cares nothing for such things. For her, money is only a convenience, and if she lost it all tomorrow she would not care one whit. She would simply find a way to make some more. If she loves you, money, or lack of it, will never stand in her way.” She smiled at him. “And I know that you do not care for her because of her fortune.”

“I would love her if she were an orange seller,” Alex declared.

“Of course! So marry her, if you can get her. I will dance at your wedding with greater joy than I have ever danced before.”

“Thank you, Lady Elizabeth. I promise you that I will do my very best to, er, get her.”

“I am sure you shall. I give you a warning, though.”

“A warning?”

“Yes. Georgina is the dearest, most generous soul. But she has the pride, and the temper, of a lioness. Never cross her, and your courtship is sure to go smoothly.”

She almost laughed aloud at the worried look on his face. “A—temper.”

“It’s the red hair, you know.” Elizabeth rose, drawing her shawl about her shoulders. “Now, I have enjoyed our coze, but we should be going, or we shall never be in time for luncheon! I am quite famished.”

 

“There’s Elizabeth now!” Georgina drew up the curricle in the yard of the White Hart, and waved as Elizabeth leaned from one of the inn’s windows. “Are we very late, Lizzie?”

“Not at all! We were early.”

“We?” called Nicholas, alighting from the curricle and reaching up to assist Georgina.

“Lord Wayland came with me, isn’t that grand? We shall be such a merry party!” Elizabeth waved again, then withdrew, pulling the casement closed.

“Why, Georgie!” Nicholas teased. “Are you blushing?”

“Certainly not!” Georgina protested. She did, however, feel just a trifle warm.

“You
are
blushing! Looks terrible with your hair.”

“How insufferable you are, Nick!” she laughed. “However can Elizabeth tolerate being married to you?”

“It’s because I’m so handsome, of course.” He held out his arm. “Shall we go in? Your wild driving has given me quite an appetite.”

“That ‘wild driving’ is going to win me fifty pounds of that dreadful Lord Pynchon’s money, come Thursday. I will confess to being a bit peckish myself, though.” Her steps quickened a bit as they entered the inn.

“And eager to see Lord Wayland, too, what?”

“Of course not! Ah, here we are.”

A substantial luncheon was already laid out in the White Hart’s best private parlor, cold meats and cheeses, vegetables, and a lemon trifle.

Elizabeth was busily dipping pickled onions into heavy cream and plopping them into her mouth, while Alex watched her in appalled fascination.

“Hello, my dears!” she cried, wiping cream from her chin. “How was your drive?”

“Marvelous! Nick’s new curricle is a wonder; I must order one for myself.” Georgina kissed Elizabeth’s cheek, then sat down next to Alex, drawing off her gloves. “You are feeling better, I see, Lizzie.”

“Yes! Quite well again. And Lord Wayland here has been quite an amusing escort on the drive out.”

Georgina smiled at Alex. “It was good of you to come, Alex. Such a grand addition to our luncheon party!”

“How could I resist the company of two such charming ladies?” said Alex, pouring Georgina a glass of wine. “And you, too, Hollingsworth. We did not have much chance for conversation Friday evening, and I had heard that you, too, were an army man.”

Nicholas grinned. “Who has been spreading rumors about me? Yes, I was in the army, in Spain. Before I met Lizzie and settled to being a responsible family man.”

“Ha!” said his wife, popping another onion into her mouth.

“I was told you were wounded at Alvaro,” said Alex.

Nicholas’s expression grew quite somber, and he reached for the wine. “Yes, I was. So were Lizzie’s brother and his wife. A sad day for our family.”

“A sad day for many,” Alex agreed quietly. “I did hear that General Morecambe ...”

“Gentlemen, please!” Georgina interrupted. “It is too lovely a day to spend in gloomy reminiscences. You will have Elizabeth and me in tears soon, and that will never do. I become quite red and blotchy when I cry. Save it for your club, please.”

Alex laughed apologetically, and lifted Georgina’s hand to his lips in a quick salute. “You are quite right, of course! We shall discuss whatever you and Lady Elizabeth choose.”

Georgina beamed at him.

Nicholas scowled in mock despair. “We all know what
that
discussion will be—art.”

“There is nothing wrong with art,” said Elizabeth.

“Nothing at all,” agreed Georgina. “Are you going to eat
all
those onions, Lizzie dear?”

Elizabeth prodded at the empty bowl with her fork. “I fear I already have. Do you think the innkeeper will bring some more?”

“I daresay he will,” Georgina answered. “I shall not be riding in the carriage back to London with you, though!” She reached over to spear a piece of roast chicken. “Speaking of art, did you see that egregious landscape Mrs. Sayers had displayed at her Venetian breakfast?”

“No, I didn’t!” Elizabeth replied avidly. “She has been telling everyone that she has a Canaletto.”

“Lizzie, if this was a Canaletto, I will eat my new pastel crayons! The light was not at all right...”

Nicholas and Alex exchanged subtle, despairing glances over their wineglasses.

Nicholas leaned closer and murmured to Alex under his breath as the ladies grew louder and more excited. “You see what I put up with every day, Wayland?”

“I do see,” answered Alex.

“And you may wish to take this on for yourself?”

Alex studied Georgina’s animated face, her glowing green eyes, the graceful flutter of her gesturing hands. “I think I very well might. How do you find it, being married to an artist?”

Nicholas grinned. “My dear chap,” he said, “it is bloody
marvelous
.”

 

“Your friends are very—animated,” Alex said as they strolled along a country path after luncheon.

Georgina smiled. “Yes, they are. Quite out of the common way.”

“That must be why you are such great friends.”

“Hm?”

“You are rather out of the common way yourself.”

Georgina studied him carefully, searching his expression for any kind of censure. She did not see any there, only open, honest humor. “Is that a compliment?”

“A very great one, I assure you.”

“Then thank you.
You
are rather out of the common way yourself.” She sat down on a fallen log, tucking the skirts of her Pomona-green carriage dress about her. “Elizabeth and Nicholas are the only people I feel I can truly be myself around. And now you, of course.”

He sat down next to her, at a proper distance but close enough that she could feel the warmth from his shoulder and thigh.

She longed to rest her head against that shoulder. But she feared he would think her fast, even more so than he might already, so she simply folded her hands in her lap instead.

“Do you mean that, Georgina?” he said quietly, almost eagerly. “That you feel able to be yourself with me?”

“Yes. You are not at all what I always suppose dukes to be like.”

“Oh? What do you suppose?”

“That dukes are stuffy, toplofty creatures with too much starch in their cravats. Or that they are arrogant lechers!”

Alex laughed. “I am not like that, then?”

“Not at all. You are one of the least toplofty people I have ever met. And not at all arrogant or a lecher!”

“Well, I was not brought up to be a duke. I was brought up for the army, just as if had I had a younger brother, he would have been brought up for the Church.”

Georgina picked up a leaf that had fallen onto her skirt, and twirled it around idly. “Tell me, Alex, did you like being in the army?”

“Very much. I was never terribly comfortable in Society, and my parents were very social people, always trotting my brother and me, and later my baby sister, out for their suppers and card parties. It was a relief to escape that, to be among men who valued discipline and camaraderie above witticisms and a fine leg for dancing.”

Georgina grinned at him. “And no ladies expecting you to do the pretty?”

Alex laughed. “There
were
ladies about, to be sure, but they were soldiers’ wives, and accustomed to a less exacting society.” He paused for a moment, then went on thoughtfully, “I did not like it all, of course. Battle is such a hellish thing, and the times between could be deadly dull. But in many ways it was a life that suited me, like trying to uphold a peerage could not. I do miss it.”

Georgina feared she knew of what he spoke. She would hate it if she were forced to give up the art she loved for a more narrow, constricted existence.

Such as that of being a duchess, for example.

She shrugged off these misgivings, and said, “Well, I think you will make a superb duke. From all accounts, a far better one than your brother!” Then she startled guiltily. “Oh! How very rude of me, to say things like that about your family. Sometimes I do speak without thinking.”

Alex laughed. “Georgina, what you said is far milder than what I have said myself about Damian! And what I have heard my mother say.” He shook his head. “I daresay I may be a better duke than poor Damian was. As much as I dislike it.”

“Alex, I ...” Georgina broke off, not certain what it was she had wanted to say.

“There is one thing that I appreciate about being a duke, and giving up my commission.”

“Oh? What is that?”

“Coming back to England and meeting you, of course.”

She smiled at him, and gave in at last to the temptation to rest her head on his strong shoulder. He smelled wonderful, of wool and starch and soap, and of Alex. “That is something I, too, appreciate.”

They sat together quietly for a while, warm in the sun, listening to the birds and the distant voices from the inn yard.

And Georgina knew that there was one other thing she greatly appreciated, a gift that Alex had given her that she had so lacked in life. Had so craved.

Stillness.

But finally the sun slipped below the tops of the trees, and Georgina bestirred herself to rise. “We should be going, I suppose. We are meant to attend Lady Carteret’s musicale this evening.”

Alex rose beside her, and took her hand in his as they turned their steps back toward the inn. “I suppose your friends will be looking for us.”

Georgina, thrilled to her very soul at the feel of her hand in his, said in a daze, “I doubt it. Lizzie is probably napping, which she does every afternoon now. She and Nick can go home in the barouche, if you will ride with me in the curricle.”

“I should be delighted.”

“Good! I do need to practice my driving a bit more.”

“Georgina.” Alex tugged on her hand, halting their steps. “Are you certain you wish to drive in this race?”

“Of course! I made the wager. I can hardly decamp now.”

“Will it not be very dangerous?”

Georgina looked up at him quizzically, at his frown and the hard set of his jaw. “Why, Alex. Are you
worried
about me?”

“Yes, by Jove, I am!” he cried.

“That is so very dear of you, to worry. I assure you, though, I am an experienced driver. Even though I can be a bit reckless at times, I am not stupid. If something feels not right on the day of the race, I will not drive.”

“I know you are not stupid. Far, far from it. It is only...” His hand tightened on hers. “If anything were to happen to you, Georgina, when I have only just found you, I think I should run mad.”

The day of the race was bright and clear and warm, perfect for the crowds of
tonnish
people who flocked to the old post road in carriages and on horseback. Many had brought picnics, and one enterprising soul was even selling lemonade and sugared almonds.

Lady Kate, on her lead and safely ensconced in the open carriage with Elizabeth and Nicholas, ran from side to side, barking at all the excitement and looking frantically for her mistress.

Georgina, already settled into Nicholas’s curricle at the starting point of the race, tried to remain oblivious to all the noise and commotion. She absently smoothed the skirt of her new sapphire blue carriage dress, focusing on the road ahead.