Rogue Grooms (5 page)

Lady Beaton’s ball was indeed a “dreadful crush,” just as predicted. The line of carriages went around Grosvenor Square, and the receiving line of those guests that had already arrived went through the front doors and down the marble steps.

Georgina did not mind the delay, though. It only meant that she had more time to sit in the warm darkness of the carriage with Lord Wayland, without the distractions of a crowded ballroom.

As Elizabeth had whispered in her ear while they gathered their cloaks, he even liked small dogs and brought flowers
before
a ball.

Lud, was the man
perfect
?

So Georgina set herself now to find a fault with him, as she studied him where he sat across from her. His nose
was
a tad crooked, as if it had once been broken. His cheekbones were rather sharp, and the lines about his eyes were too deep for his youngish age, as if he had been squinting into the Spanish sun too long. He did not possess the smooth olive beauty of so many of her Italian friends. Or the golden perfection of her first husband, Jack.

No, Alex possessed something much more interesting than mere bland beauty. His features spoke of intelligence and experience, of pride.

And there was certainly nothing wrong at all with his figure. His shoulders required absolutely no padding, and his breeches fit his long legs like ...

Georgina turned away, fanning herself. Very well, then, so there were no faults there. She looked back to him, turning her study to his attire. His cravat was simply tied, with a stickpin of a tiny, insignificant diamond in its snowy folds. His waistcoat was of plain ivory satin. Not very stylish, compared with the pinks of the
ton.
But Georgina, who loved flamboyant fashions for herself, rather disliked it in men. And, having a wide friendship with artistic sorts of people, she had seen some flamboyance!

She much preferred Lord Wayland’s quiet elegance.

So, he was handsome, he dressed with good taste, he liked her dog, he had a nice laugh, performed great deeds in the park, was a war hero,
and
a duke.

Georgina conceded with a sigh. He
was
perfect. Probably too perfect for her own flawed self. However, that did not mean she could not enjoy his company while she had the chance.

“I do believe we have arrived at last!” said Elizabeth.

Georgina shifted her attention to the carriage window to see that their wait was indeed over.
Thank the gods,
she thought. She could certainly use a glass of champagne. And had it suddenly become overly warm in the carriage?

A footman opened the carriage door, and Alex stepped out first to assist Georgina and Elizabeth. Georgina was quite touched to see the care he took with Elizabeth; Lizzie thought her condition was still hidden, but it was really becoming quite apparent beneath her lacy sash. It was clear that Alex had apprehended this, and he held her arm tightly to help her ascend the steep front steps.

Georgina left her cloak with the Beatons’ footman and joined Alex and Elizabeth at the end of the receiving line, at the foot of the grand staircase. This was always one of her favorite moments of a ball; the chance to look ahead and behind her, and see who was in attendance. To see if there was anyone who might need to have their portrait painted, or if there were any friends to greet.

Tonight, though, there could be no one more fascinating than the person she was with.

 

Alex detested balls.

They were always overly warm, overly scented with the perfumes of the guests and the masses of flowers, and full of uninteresting conversation. He was also a rather poor dancer, which could often prove quite embarrassing.

He could see, as he and Georgina and Elizabeth at last greeted their hostess and entered the ballroom, that this particular rout would be scarce any different from those he attended since his return to London.

The dancing had not yet begun; the musicians were tuning up behind a bank of potted palms, and the crowd was milling about waiting for the opening pavane. It all seemed very aimless, with ladies exclaiming over one another’s gowns, gentlemen inquiring after one another’s latest acquisitions at Tattersall’s, couples claiming one another for the dances, and footmen moving about with full trays of champagne glasses.

Yet he knew it was not at all aimless. Reputations were made and broken on the whispers behind fans, the gentleman-to-gentleman asides. It was a precarious, expensive world, one that some people, such as Alex’s brother, would pay anything, do anything, to stay in. In the end, the gambling and the spending had broken Damian, and all their family.

And Alex had been far away, unable to stop any of the madness and unhappiness.

In the midst of these renewed pangs of guilt, he felt the light pressure of Georgina’s fingers on his arm. He turned to look down at her.

She smiled at him, and went up on tiptoe to murmur in his ear, “Absolutely horrid, is it not? Like a gathering of clucking chickens.”

He laughed. “Horrid.”

“Ah, the things we go through for our art, Georgie,” Elizabeth sighed. Then she drifted off to greet a group of friends.

“Indeed,” Georgina said. She tugged at his arm. “Shall we join the fray, Lord Wayland? I do believe people are beginning to stare.”

Alex looked down at her, at her inquisitive green eyes, and he knew then that he could never be the cause of another person’s unhappiness, as he had been with his family, being far away and unable to curb Damian’s excesses. He had only known Georgina Beaumont for a very brief while, but he knew that she would be very angry, and very hurt, if she found out about his friends’ silly wager, and his own secret temptations toward her.

He had no wish to see those eyes full of anger. He wanted them to laugh at him, to sparkle and smile—to fill with admiration, as he was certain his did now as they looked at her.

He turned back to the ballroom, and saw that they were indeed attracting attention. As a new duke, with a scandal for a brother, he had become accustomed to the attention, even though it still made him most uncomfortable. Yet now he found that a new duke with a beautiful, famous woman on his arm was an even greater object of interest than a duke alone.

Mamas glared at Georgina, even as they urged their daughters to stand up straighter and smooth their hair. Some of the gentlemen, obviously admirers of “La Beaumont,” looked crestfallen; others took out their quizzing glasses and eyed the two of them speculatively. Sophisticated young matrons and widows studied Georgina’s gown, then looked down at their own lesser creations in chagrined comparison.

The elderly Lady Collins, a notorious eccentric, said, loud enough to be heard even over the large crowd, “Is that that artist chit with young Wayland? I would wager that hair of hers is
dyed!
Never saw that red in nature.”

Georgina giggled.

Alex frowned. “What an old harridan that Lady Collins is.”

“Nonsense!” Georgina replied. “I plan to be just like her when I am seventy; I will say what I please, and care for none. Is that champagne I see over there? Shall we force our way through the masses and get a glass?”

“What a grand idea, Mrs. Beaumont. I was just thinking the exact same thing myself.”

As they ventured into the crowd, Alex looked about for Hildebrand and Freddie. He intended to ask them to call off that silly wager as soon as possible; he did not care two straws if it was “ungentlemanly” to cancel a wager once it was made. He wanted to become friends with Georgina, and he did
not
want such nonsense hanging over them like a dark cloud.

Yet they were nowhere to be found, and he soon found himself in the midst of a large circle of Georgina’s acquaintances, all of them eager to be introduced to him. In the middle of their conversation and laughter, he quite forgot about Hildebrand and Freddie and any wagers at all.

 

“What a handsome fellow your duke is, Georgina!” whispered Lady Lonsdale, a very stylish lady whose portrait Georgina had once painted, and who had become a friend. “I am quite envious.”

Georgina laughed, and looked to the dance floor, where Alex was engaged in a country-dance with Elizabeth. “There is no need to be envious, Harriet! He is not ‘my’ duke. Lord Wayland and I only met this afternoon, and he kindly offered to escort Elizabeth and myself this evening, since Nicholas is from Town.”

“Hm. Only out of the kindness of his heart, I am sure.” Lady Lonsdale fluttered her feathered fan. “Tell me, how did you and the duke meet?”

“He jumped into the river after my dog.”

“Ha!” Lady Lonsdale laughed most heartily. “Are you telling me a corker, Georgina?”

“I assure you I am not! Lady Kate escaped from her lead and went for a swim. Lord Wayland very gallantly rescued her from being carried off, and Elizabeth invited him to take tea with us at her house in thanks.”

“Oh, my dear! Such an
on dit.
One of the great heroes of the Peninsula ruining his attire rescuing the dog of a famous artist! It will be in all the papers tomorrow, you know.”

“I only hope that the scandalmongers do not imply that I am on the hunt for a new husband.”

“Your appearing here with him tonight
will
be sure to cause talk.”

“There is always talk. I am quite accustomed to it.”

“And you do nothing to discourage it!” Lady Lonsdale’s tone was gleeful.

Georgina shrugged blithely. “It is good for my career to be noticed! As long as there is no true scandal. That would be quite disastrous.”

The dance had ended, and Alex was leading Elizabeth toward them, the two of them happily laughing and chatting.

“He is very handsome,” said Lady Lonsdale. “And he does seem to like you a great deal.”

“His lordship has been very kind...”

“No doubt.” Lady Lonsdale lowered her fan, and smiled as Elizabeth and Alex reached them. “Lady Elizabeth! How very radiant you are this evening. Marriage must certainly agree with you.”

“It does indeed!” Elizabeth replied merrily.

“When shall we have the pleasure of seeing your scamp of a husband again?”

“Very soon, I am sure, Lady Lonsdale. There was a bit of an emergency at our country estate, which he went to look in on. But may I present his worthy substitute this evening, His Grace the Duke of Wayland? Lord Wayland, this is our friend, the Countess of Lonsdale. Georgina painted her portrait last year, and she is a great patron of art!”

“So you must be certain to be nice to her!” Georgina laughed.

Alex grinned, and bowed to Lady Lonsdale. “I shall endeavor to do my best, Mrs. Beaumont. How do you do, Lady Lonsdale.”

“You must not listen to their fustian, Lord Wayland! They will have you believing I am an ogre who does naught but sit for portraits all day, and lord it over poor, groveling artists,” said Lady Lonsdale. “I am very glad to meet you, though, Lord Wayland. I have heard that you performed quite a dashing feat in the park today. I am sorry I missed it.”

“Yes, well, rescuing fair damsels in distress is a specialty of mine.”

“So I understand.” Lady Lonsdale smiled at him over her fan.

The orchestra struck up the lilting strains of a waltz, and Alex turned to Georgina. “Mrs. Beaumont, would you do me the great honor of dancing with me?”

“Thank you, yes.” As Georgina accepted his arm and went with him to the dance floor he had only just vacated, she said, “I feel I should warn you, though, that I bring more enthusiasm to the dance than grace.”

“I will confess in turn—my feet are of the two left variety.” One of his hands slid into hers, and the other landed warmly at her waist. “But I daresay we shall rub along well enough together.”

“I daresay we shall.”

Indeed they did. Their steps seemed well matched, and soon they were swaying and swooping amid the other couples, taking the corners in dashingly executed spins that sent Georgina’s emerald green skirts swirling.

She laughed merrily after one especially energetic turn, bringing the gazes of the other dancers in their direction. “I cannot recall when I had such fun waltzing!”

“Nor I! Dancing is usually a bit of a chore, something I had to do with my sister at country assemblies when I was a lad. But this is quite nice. Quite—different.”

“So the evening has not proved to be so tedious as you had feared?”

“How did you know I feared it would be tedious?”

Georgina smiled slyly. “I have my ways!”

“Well, I never expected that
your
company would be tedious. And this ball has not been at all, thanks to you and Lady Elizabeth.”

Georgina hummed a bit to the music as they turned and swayed. “I do believe this is an Italian song. I could almost think myself home again!” She closed her eyes, and smiled at the blissful moment of music and Alex’s warm arms about her.

All too soon, the music ended.

Georgina found herself quite unaccountably disappointed.

“Shall we take a stroll on the terrace?” Alex asked. “It is sure to be cooler outside.”

“Oh, yes, what a lovely idea!”

There were several couples gathered on the Beatons’ terrace, walking, talking quietly, or watching the brightly lit ballroom through the open doors. A few bolder guests could be glimpsed slipping about the garden beyond.

It was quite an extension of the ball, but much cooler, and lovely beneath the stars.

Georgina leaned against the marble balustrade, and sipped at the glass of champagne she had caught from a footman’s tray on the way out of the ballroom. It was truly a beautiful night. The London sky was un-characteristically clear, lit by an almost full, pale silver moon. The scent of early roses from the garden hung sweet in the air. The champagne was cool and delicious as it slid down her throat.

And Alex’s arm was warm and delicious when he leaned on the balustrade beside her.