Rogue Grooms (13 page)

Elizabeth shook her head. “Perfectly respectable. But, Georgie, I still feel this is too sudden. It has only been nine days since your accident. You still need to rest. Could you not put off this trip until next month?”

“If I did that, it would have to wait until after the exhibition at the Royal Academy. Then Alex will have to supervise something or other at his farm, hay I believe, and guests would be a nuisance. And then it will be time for me to go home to Italy.” She held up a white straw bonnet trimmed with yellow feathers and streamers. “What about this?”

“Lovely. It will go with your yellow walking dress. But I still think...”

“Lizzie.” Georgina placed the bonnet back in its box, and went to sit beside Elizabeth. “Is there something you are not telling me? Do you have some sort of—misgivings about Alex?”

“No! I like him. He seems a very good sort of man.”

“Yes. I think so, too.”

“We had such a nice talk before your race, and I am sure he thinks very highly of you. As he ought!”

“Then, where is the difficulty?”

“It is not a great one, by any means. It is only—well, you know that his brother was very careless, and frittered away a great part of his family’s fortune.”

Georgina’s hands felt suddenly cold. She tucked them into her lap, and somehow managed to ask, “Are you saying, Lizzie, that you think Alex is after my money?”

“No!” Elizabeth cried. “No. You and I have met many men over the years, and have seen many of our friends’ romances flourish or wither. I think we could tell when a man is sincere, unless he is a very good actor. Which Lord Wayland is not! I think he is fond of
you
, not your money.”

Georgina nodded. “I believe that, as well.” Did she not?

“But he did seem quite shocked when I told him of the extent of your legacy from Mr. Beaumont.”

“Alex is—a very proud man,” Georgina said slowly, thinking aloud.

“Yes. Prouder even than Nick, I fear.”

“It would be difficult for him to feel beholden in any way, even though I would never see it that way. I would—if we were married, I would see it as an equal sharing.”

“Then, you must make
him
see it that way, as well! There is nothing else for it, if you truly want him.”

“Oh, yes. I believe I do.” Georgina bit her lip. “It will not be easy.”

“No. Not at all.”

“Nothing ever worth having was easily come by.”

“How true.” Elizabeth smiled, obviously recalling her own rocky courtship. “How very true. You must promise me one thing, though, Georgie.”

“What is that?”

“Well, my determined friend, that when you become a duchess, in the grandest ceremony ever seen in England,
I
shall give the wedding breakfast.”

 

“Shall we see Fair Oak soon?” Georgina asked, straining for a glimpse of whatever might be down the lane.

They were riding in Alex’s curricle, with the baggage coach, accompanied by Elizabeth’s maid Daisy, behind, since Georgina had declared that traveling in closed carriages made her feel ill. She was very glad of this, too, for the country they had traveled through was exquisite, a rich, verdant green, and their journey had been most pleasant. They had chatted of many things, and had been completely at ease in each other’s company.

Lady Kate, too, was at ease, sitting between them, barking at birds overhead and the occasional fox in the hedgerows.

Now, however, they had turned down the winding, tree-lined lane that led to Fair Oak itself, and Georgina was overcome with an uncharacteristic nervousness. She straightened the small net veil of her fashionable hat, and smoothed the skirt of her new lilac carriage dress.

“Georgina!” Alex said. “Never say you are nervous.”

“Not at all!” Georgina protested. “Well—perhaps just a bit.”

“My mother and sister will not eat you,” he laughed. “In fact, I would be willing to wager that they are far more anxious about meeting you than you are about meeting them.”

“Surely not! Why would a dowager duchess and her daughter be anxious about meeting a mere missus, an artist?”

“For exactly that reason. You are quite famous, you know. Mother and Emily have lived quietly in the country for many years. Their only news comes from the neighbors who travel into Town, and from less than respectable newspapers, which Mother has a guilty pleasure in. When I wrote to her that you were coming, she wrote back full of excitement.”

Georgina was flustered, and oddly pleased. “She did?”

“Oh, yes. She has heard of you, you see, has read of your art and your gowns, and who knows what. She fears Fair Oak will not be grand enough for you.”

“What nonsense!”

“I assure you, ’tis true.” They turned a corner of the lane, and Alex pointed ahead with his carriage whip. “There is the house now.”

Georgina looked to where he pointed, and gasped. Fair Oak might be too much of an architectural mishmash to be truly
grand,
but it was very impressive. It towered above the drive and the small park, dark and imposing, looking down on the world through mullioned Tudor windows. Stone gargoyles kept watch from the corners of the roof.

It was a bit neglected, to be sure, just as Georgina had feared. Ivy crept willy-nilly over the half-timbered walls, which in turn needed a fresh coat of paint. The stone front steps were cracked, and the fountain at the center of the drive was dry.

But these were things easily fixed, and the house itself was lovely. It seemed to give off an aura of the many, many years of family life lived within its walls, of all the love, laughter, quarrels, births, marriages, and deaths it had seen.

It seemed to welcome her.

As the carriage drew to a halt, the front door opened and a young woman stepped out. She could only be Alex’s sister, for she had a look of him about her oval face, her straight nose, and her blue eyes. Her golden curls were drawn back and tied with a blue ribbon, that matched her rather faded muslin dress.

She smiled at them, clapping her hands in delight when they descended from the carriage and came to greet her.

“Alex, you are home at last!” she cried, throwing her arms about his neck. “Mother has been asking for you every moment since breakfast.”

“You are looking well, Em!” he said, lifting her off of her feet until she squealed.

“I
am
well, now that you are come! And this must be Mrs. Beaumont. I know her from the sketches in the newspapers.” Emily stepped back from her brother, and held out her hand to Georgina. “How do you do, Mrs. Beaumont.”

“How do you do, Lady Emily. I am so happy to meet you at last, after hearing so much about you.”

“Not as happy as we are to meet you! And is this your sweet doggie? I will have the maid take her directly to your room. But how ill-mannered I am being, keeping you out here on the doorstep! Mother has sent for some tea, and she is so eager to meet you.” She leaned forward and whispered, “She has changed her gown quite five times this morning.”

Georgina laughed, feeling much better about the four times she herself had changed. “Then I will be sure to compliment her on it.”

The interior of Fair Oak was much the same as its exterior. The foyer was very grand, crowned by a sweeping staircase and a dome fresco of Grecian nymphs and cupids cavorting against a blue sky. The floor was a lovely, intricate parquet. But there was no rug, no paintings (though there were darker squares on the blue silk wallpaper where some had once hung), and the only furniture was a rather battered mahogany table. The table was itself bare of all ornament except a lovely arrangement of early roses and wildflowers.

“Mother is waiting in the morning room. I hope that you do not mind that we don’t receive you in the grand drawing room,” said Emily, hurrying across the vast foyer to open one of the many closed doors. “The morning room is warmer, and so much cozier!”

“Certainly I do not mind,” answered Georgina. “I do so much prefer cozy to grand any day.”

Emily gave her a relieved smile. “Wonderful!” Then she turned and called, “Mother! Here are Alex and Mrs. Beaumont at last.”

Alex held out his arm to Georgina, and she accepted it, looking up at him through her veil. He had been quiet since they entered the house, and Georgina had sensed him watching her closely, gauging her reaction to his home.

Or at least she hoped it was her reaction he was judging, and not her behavior.

She leaned closer, and whispered, “Your house is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he whispered back. “You do not think it too vast, or old-fashioned? Or too—empty?”

“It is certainly vast.” Georgina glanced around the furniture-less foyer again. “And perhaps a bit empty. But it has such a welcoming warmth to it. I quite like it.”

He smiled then, and laid his free hand over hers. “I have often felt the same about Fair Oak.”

“Alexander!” a voice called. “You are not going to keep our guest standing about out there all day, are you?”

“No, Mother.” Alex led Georgina into the morning room. “Of course not.”

“Yes, I thought I had raised you with better manners. The army, though, might have obliterated them. Come closer, now, so that I can see you.”

Georgina’s hand tightened on Alex’s arm as they approached the woman seated by the fire. She felt a small frisson of nerves, an unaccustomed unease.

The Dowager Duchess of Wayland had the look of her children about her. Her hair was a dark gold, somewhere between the light brown of Alex and the guinea gold of Emily, caught up in soft curls beneath a lacy gray cap. She had the same nose and decided jaw, and the hand she held out for her son to kiss was long, slim, and pale.

The eyes that looked up at Georgina were the same piercing, brilliant blue.

“Are you going to introduce me to our lovely guest?” she said.

“Mother,” Alex said. “May I present Mrs. Georgina Beaumont? Mrs. Beaumont, my mother, Dorothy, Dowager Duchess of Wayland.”

Georgina gave the elegant curtsy she had been perfecting before her mirror. “How do you do, Your Grace.”

Dorothy laughed merrily. “Oh, please, none of that nonsense in my own home! No calling me Your Grace, if you please. Do be seated, Mrs. Beaumont.” She glanced at her son and daughter, who were hovering beside her chair. “The two of you sit down, as well. You have both grown so tall, that I cannot talk to you without getting a pain in my neck.”

Georgina laughed, and sat down in a small satin upholstered chair opposite the dowager duchess, all her fears almost forgotten. The duchess was obviously cut from the same easy cloth as her son and daughter, and not a high stickler at all.

That was excellent. Georgina had never fared well with high sticklers.

Emily soon had them all situated with tea and cakes, and tried to tuck her mother’s lap robe closer about her.

“Are you quite warm enough, Mother?” she said. “Perhaps I should build up the fire some more.”

“I am fine, Em! Do quit fussing, dear.” Dorothy smiled at Georgina over her teacup. “I want to hear all about our guest. Emily and I have been reading all the London papers, Mrs. Beaumont, and we understand you are quite famous.”

Georgina laughed. “I would not say
famous.
Yet.”

“She is being too modest, Mother,” said Alex. “Everyone knows who she is, and every family in the
ton
clamors for a portrait by her. Her latest client was Lady Harriet Granville.”

Emily’s eyes were shining. “Oh, you must tell us all about your life, Mrs. Beaumont! It must be so very exciting to be in London, and on the Continent. I have never even left the neighborhood.”

“Oh, but I think
your
life so fascinating!” Georgina protested. “A lovely home like this, being surrounded by people you have always known—it must be so very comfortable. Much more so than my rackety life!”

Dorothy patted her daughter’s hand. “We do truly have a lovely home and fine neighbors, Mrs. Beaumont. Yet I fear Emily longs for operas and balls and bookshops.”

“Who would not?” Emily sighed. “You must tell me every detail of Town life, Mrs. Beaumont, I beg you.”

“Em!” Dorothy scolded. “I fear, Mrs. Beaumont, you will think my daughter quite pushing.”

“Not at all,” protested Georgina. “I will gladly tell anything you wish to know, since you have been so kind as to share your home with me for a few days. I could even do a small portrait of you, Lady Emily, if you like.”

Emily almost bounced on her seat in excitement. “Oh, would you, Mrs. Beaumont! I will be quite the envy of the whole neighborhood.”

“It would be my pleasure. You are such a pretty subject! Though I fear it would be a poor effort compared to the painting you have over there.”

Georgina nodded toward the portrait that hung above the fireplace. It was a luminous family scene, of a younger Dorothy, a handsome blond gentleman who must be her husband, two little boys, and an infant in pink ruffles. They were gathered beneath a tree, with Fair Oak in the background.

“Is it a Gainsborough?” she asked.

“Yes,” answered Dorothy, turning a fond eye on the painting. “It is lovely. That was quite the happiest time of my life, Mrs. Beaumont, with my dearest William and all our little ones. I insisted that we keep it, despite all the ...” Her voice trailed away, and her gaze fell from the painting to her lap. “I do apologize, Mrs. Beaumont, for chattering on so, when you must be tired from your journey. Emily can show you to your room.”

“Thank you, Lady Wayland,” Georgina said quietly. “I am a bit tired.”

“Alex’s bumpy driving is enough to make anyone so!” Emily said, coming over to take Georgina’s arm.

“Ah! You see how I am maligned by my family,” Alex protested with good humor. “Tell them what an excellent driver I am, I beg you.”

“Well,” Georgina said consideringly. “You
are
a better driver than I, but as I am always oversetting myself, that can scarce be in your favor.”