Chapter 8 - GEORGINA—A TZAR IN MAYFAIR

Chapter 8

GEORGINA—A TZAR IN MAYFAIR

Twenty-one James Street was idyllically situated in Mayfair, near green parks and the gold coins of old money on Grosvenor Street. Windows on every level of its facade, the house had three visible stories and an attic. My mouth hung open as I took it all in, down to the thick, gold fencing that framed the pavement surrounding this residence.

I climbed out, tempted to stick my hands into my empty pockets, and I remembered the tipsy friend that first came with the duke. His Grace had mentioned him a few weeks ago. Something about him helping with music.

“Gorgeous.” That’s what he called me. I still remembered.

“Yes, it is,” Lydia said and tugged on her gloves. “So, so pretty.”

Katherine, who hadn’t stepped out the carriage, pushed the child’s bonnet higher on her sleek chignon. I waited for her to bring Lydia but my elder sister hadn’t budged.

Scarlett shrugged, got out, dragging her heavy book.

I fingered a bit of worn gilt on the pages. “Where did you get that?”

“Never you mind, sis.” She strutted away. The thing was large enough to tip her over.

But if it had what was needed to make our friend well . . . that is, if he was sick. I wasn’t sure why that explanation stuck in my head more than others.

Four footmen in blue livery descended upon us like royal guards suspecting terrorists.

I threw up my hands. “We come in peace. We’re here to see the duke, the Duke of Torrance.”

Katherine handed the reins to one, then climbed out with Lydia. As if she was here of her own volition and wasn’t carrying a squirming child, my sister looked calm. “His Grace will see us. Tell him Lady Hampton is here with the Wilcox sisters.”

One fellow with smoky silver hair looked at the other, then clapped his hands. “Go inside, ladies. His Grace has given us strict orders to admit you, Lady Hampton, at any hour.”

Her? I looked stunned.

Scarlett did too.

Holding Lydia’s hand, a calm, almost regal Katherine marched up the three steps that led to the Duke of Torrance’s double doors.

The silver-haired man stepped in front and bowed again. “Ladies, avoid the ballroom. The meeting has run long today.”

What meeting?

Katherine smiled at me but not in a good way. She looked smug. “I see. His business was more important than you.”

Lydia seemed thrilled, bouncing up the steps, grinning. “He expected us to come today.” She rubbed her palms like they itched because the duke had thought of us.

The footman scowled, then returned to his dour tone. “That’s been the orders for over a year. Since last—”

“Last March.” Moving closer to Katherine, I whispered, “Oh, I see how we are included in his plans. The poor man has been hoping for us to come. And you’ve been too preoccupied or rude to return his courtesy.”

She grabbed my arm as I almost spun into the grand hall. It was blue and white with gilt on the ceiling and on panels along the wall. “You’re too young to know when a man has arranged circumstances to draw you in.”

“Too young? I’m twenty-five, Katherine. You’re only twenty-nine. You make yourself sound aged and the duke a demon.”

“He’s not a demon. He’s worse. At least you can see the horns on Satan.”

I dropped her hand. “Why do you hate him?”

Before she answered, Scarlett wandered to the grand staircase, causing Katherine to announce, “We need to stay together, dear sister.”

Scarlett offered a pout. “The duke said that I could visit his library.”

“I heard him. He said it’s supposed to have maps.” Lydia jumped about. “He said I could look too.”

Katherine drew her hands together, clasping them tightly. “I thought we’d come to see if the duke was well, and then leave.”

“We can do that and look at his maps.” Lydia sighed with glee when the footman pointed up the gilded grand central staircase.

“On the upper landing. First door on the right, ladies. The Duke of Torrance is a little under the weather, but he is up and may be in the science meeting happening today. Anya House is very crowded and there are reporters, do be careful.”

“Anya . . . Anya House?” For a moment, Katherine looked shaken. She stuttered. She never stuttered. “That’s what the Duke of Torrance has named his residence?”

“Yes, ma’am, after his late sister.” The footman turned back to Scarlett and Lydia, who’d already inched toward the stairs. “I’ll try to make sure you’re not disturbed. I know His Grace wouldn’t like that.” He bowed and pointed again to the wonderland awaiting upstairs. His debonair actions made the tails of his blue uniform sway as if a breeze flowed through the enormous hall.

Arm in arm, my younger sisters disappeared, bounding up the burgundy-carpeted treads. Well, our Lydia sort of dragged Scarlett. The words science meeting had Scarlett ready to engage. It was good to see our little Lydia with such energy. She’d had another bout of a spring cold. They usually took her strength.

“Sir, will they be safe up there?” Katherine looked concerned, very motherly. And with her half-mourning gray, very matronly. Reporters wouldn’t recognize us as the daughters of the renowned Cesar P. Wilcox, one of the first Blackamoor men to make his own fortune in London. Papa’s empire once included a second house, the wharf, and the brewery near Ground Street.

One of the reasons I loved walking or running down the lane was memories of him and his industry, when our name meant something.

“Yes, ma’am,” a second servant said.

The footman snapped to attention as an older gentleman came to us. “The Wilcoxes. At last you’ve come. I’m Jonathan Steele, the duke’s butler. He’s moving slowly today because he’s been a little under the weather. Knowing that you’re here, he’ll attend to you once he finishes dressing for the day.”

“Mr. Steele,” the silver-haired footman said, “I warned them about people drifting about the house.”

“True,” the butler said. “Reporters are always hunting for something, but His Grace needs the newspapers to spread the word about new discoveries. It’s the only way to popularize research.”

Steele sent the footmen back to their post, then turned to us. “You may wait in the study.”

“No, sir.” Katherine folded her arms and tried to appear at ease, but she, like me, had to be impressed with the fine blue paint and gilt-trimmed moldings. She continued, “We’ll wait here.”

“Very well.” The butler walked a few feet and opened a door to the left. When he slipped inside, a rush of claps and noise ushered out. That had to be the ballroom.

Now it was just Katherine and me in the wide marble hall waiting for the duke. “See,” I said, “he’s been ill.”

“Overslept from who knows what goes on here,” she said. “He’s fine. His priorities took precedence over his coming to us. And lying about in bed?” Her cheeks flushed. “Wonder what crazy, debauched antics led to that.”

Crazy and debauched? That didn’t sound like the man I’d come to know. Granted, I didn’t know what he did apart from his visits across the Thames, but his spirit was gentle. The man was always kind and listening to us. “A science meeting sounds important, Katherine. You make it sound selfish.”

Her glare at me said that was exactly what she felt. “Georgina, we came. We will wait for a moment to see his face, and then leave.”

“You sound so furious. The man has been nice to us. I asked you a question earlier. Sister, why do you hate the duke?”

A heated look flashed over her countenance. Her wide nostrils flared. Her black eyes reflected flames, glowing with the candles from the hall or maybe hell. “I don’t hate him. I just don’t like him.”

Lie.

Didn’t Katherine know that my gaze was her mirror? That these looking glasses saw into her soul and discovered bitterness? “Tell the truth. Why does he perplex you?”

“You’re too young to understand, Georgina. That’s why I’m here to protect you. You shouldn’t be taken in by the Duke of Torrance of all people. Your head and heart need to see a trap for what it is. The duke’s not worthy of your love.”

Love him? My own sister didn’t know me.

“Katherine . . . that’s what you think?”

“There’s no other explanation. It’s easy to be taken in by someone so charismatic.”

“To think I could be interested in the duke, a man who’s been like the brother I’d hoped Tavis would be, but never ever was—you wound me.”

“But it’s obvious. You hang on his words. Your eyes lift when he enters our house. You’ve fallen in love with him. And he’ll do nothing but hurt you. He’ll never marry you.”

“Katherine, you’ve gone too far. You think so little of me. And why on earth would I want to marry and be punished for the rest of my life, like you?”

“You didn’t mean that. But the duke is horrible. Woe unto anyone who marries him.” She drew her hand to her mouth. “Sorry—”

The Duke of Torrance was on the landing. Warm smile, light olive skin that looked more pale today. The energy and heat that radiated when his eyes met Katherine’s was the same, or maybe it was stronger, for we’d . . . she’d come to him.

“Hello,” the duke said. His motion was slow, but his face hadn’t lifted from Katherine. “What’s occurred?”

He hurried down using a cane. Immaculate in a jet tailcoat with silver-threaded buttonholes and velvet-looking indigo waistcoat, he seemed austere and commanding.

But his eyes, his gaze on my sister’s burned. I wanted him to hate her words, hate the way she belittled his efforts, but that wasn’t in his countenance. Why didn’t he loathe the way she acted, as I did? Why must he seem to be understanding when she sought to make everyone around her feel insignificant? “I asked a question,” he said. “What can I help with?”

“Tell him, Katherine. Tell him your lies. Make me feel even smaller than you do every day.”

“Wait. Georgina. I didn’t mean—”

I didn’t stay to hear the rest.

I ran.

I ran down the hall past the open door of the ballroom, which was filled with men holding charts, hooting at another man with charts. Maybe they had life figured out.

I ran past a drawing room of paintings, portraits of men, including Blackamoor men, then I slowed in front of a watercolor showing women slaying an enslaver. It was cowardly to run, but I had no other power.

“Georgina, wait.”

Speeding up, refusing to be coddled like the fool my sister believed me to be, I kept going until I was outside, knee-deep in the green gorse.

A wonderful garden surrounded me, lush bushes with roses and yellow flowers.

A little farther ahead was a tall maze. If I went inside it, I might be able to hide until I calmed. If she did follow, I hoped she’d not find my path. It was obvious we were on different ones.

After ten minutes of going about turns and twists of sculpted gorse, I was lost. All the corners and curves began to look the same. I didn’t know how to get out, how to get back to the house or find a way to the mews.

Then I stopped moving.

I breathed fast like I couldn’t fill my lungs.

Soon, I was convinced I wouldn’t be found by Katherine . . . or anyone else.

I was alone, smelling pine and heather and something offering honey.

Mr. Thom was right. No matter how I tried I couldn’t run to Mount Olympus. If only one could gain wings and fly away from an older sister’s judgment.

Katherine was inside the grand house shaming me and the duke with her silly accusation. How could she? Why did she feel entitled to ruin my life? Mistakes or wins—they should be my choice.

Turning another corner, breathing in the cleansing pine, I decided I’d make kartoshka, one of the duke’s favorite desserts from Saint Petersburg. That would make up for Katherine’s nonsense.

Showing him extraordinary kindness might teach her a lesson.

Clearly, I was more upset than even I wanted to believe if I could stand in this beautiful place and plot revenge.

Humming a hymn, I settled. I needed to go home. The duke was well. We were still welcomed, wanted friends in his world.

On my next turn in the maze, I stumbled onto a bench. Plopping down, with arms folded, I figured this was as good a place as any to rest. I sang aloud, a hymn of peace.

“Such a pretty voice.”

Loaded with books and papers, a gentleman came from the other direction.

“Oh, hello,” I said.

He didn’t respond. His lips shut and he stared.

“We’ve met before,” I said. “You came to Ground Street with the duke.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything.

His staring at me continued. Then it seemed he dropped his papers and books.

“Let me help you.” I moved to the pages littered in the grass. Some looked like notes. Others were sheets of music.

The man didn’t move.

Then the wind shifted the papers.

“Are you going to help me, sir? I’m not here to merely help you.”

Groaning, he pitched his head up and down, but still no words.

Perhaps he had a problem with his speech. Mr. Carew had told us about some of the patients and conditions he treated. I was sure this would be something he’d know how to help with or show me how best to communicate with this person.

Finding someone with true difficulties took some of the steam from my heated teapot. I touched his arm, catching his sleeve by the buttons. “Be at ease, sir. I do not mind helping at all.”

He stilled. His gaze went to my hand.

I stopped moving. Being used to having Tavis around, I’d forgotten that some chose not to associate with us. No matter how much my father had accomplished, my brown skin touching his darker coat might be an offense.

This gentleman in fine wool coat dyed deep blue noticed. He put his palm on my hand before I fluttered away. “Don’t go.”

“I did not mean to be so forward, sir.”

“You’re helping me, miss.”

He’d spoken at last. His voice was pleasant, midrange. He might even be able to carry a note, if he sang. “Well, let’s work together, sir, to help you.”

“Help me. Right.”

Hopping around like rabbits, we stepped on pages and chased others.

I grabbed the last. “I think we’ve done it.”

He set his pile on the bench, carefully weighting the loose papers with his books.

Then he clapped. “Thank you for this dance.”

Was that what he called this? The gentleman had a sense of humor. I offered him a curtsy. “Anytime you wish for a partner to stand up in a garden reel, find me.”

“You are easy to behold.”

This fellow came closer. Nice smile, nice dark, dark blue eyes. We were the same height. I didn’t feel too tall or too short, for the first time in a long time.

“You must think I’m silly. A grown man tripping over his tongue because a beautiful woman stands before him.”

His cheeks burned red. Mine began to heat. “Being shy can cause difficulties. And we haven’t met in a while . . . Lord Mark Sebastian.”

“You remembered.” His face was scarlet. “How kind when I know your life has changed greatly since last year. Is that why when I asked Torrance of you, he distracted me? He didn’t wish for me to intrude.”

This man asked of me? I felt my chest warm. The more he gaped, the more I became fire beneath my emerald coat.

And he was right.

Our circumstances had changed because of the duke’s influence, but Katherine’s hatred of him could cost us everything.

“You . . . you don’t have to answer. My friend Livingston said you’d meet me in the garden.” He took a big breath. “I can’t believe I’m talking to you. Can’t believe I managed more than a word.”

Not sure who Livingston was. As long as it wasn’t Katherine looking for me, I was indifferent. I glanced at Lord Mark Sebastian. “Last time we met you said barely anything.”

“Nothing but ‘gorgeous.’ ” He rubbed at his neck, then stood up straight. “Yes, you are, more than ever. It’s wrong for us to talk like this. To meet under my friend’s influence.”

What was he talking about? What friend?

If I questioned him, he’d probably become silent again. Nonsense words were better than none.

Nonetheless, I hated guessing what people thought. Katherine always made me figure things out. Her secrecy, all the hidden thoughts, caused problems.

He began to fix his crooked cravat. “I’m not sure what my friend has said to you, but I’m painfully shy. I’m not a libertine or a monk. I’ve had my share of broken hearts. My current circumstances don’t lend to suitability. Most women prefer a man of more means or a title in his own right. I’m a composer. Well, I’ve chosen to be one.”

When he got to talking, he did run on, but at least his gaze was upon me, and only me. That rarely happened if another Wilcox like Scarlett were around.

“You haven’t much experience, Miss Wilcox?”

“Not with mazes. I’ve never been in one. I sort of lost my way. Do you know where the mews—”

“Oh, must you go now? This was just to meet.” He whipped a hand through his brownish-black straight hair. “When shall I see you again?”

“You wish to see me again?”

Wiping his hands on a wilted handkerchief, he kept staring. “Yes. Yes, most definitely.”

He said this without hesitation. I liked that.

“Miss Wilcox.” A long breath escaped his lips. “I’m at your disposal, but I don’t think I can . . . we can’t do what my friend said.”

His cryptic words sounded very odd, and Lord help me, I became Lydia, curious as to what he meant and willing to go very far to oblige a needed laugh. “I can’t help you unless you’re clear. Tell me what you’ve been instructed.”

His cheeks burned, far past garnet. They’d soon darken to the color of my favorite gloves, berry. He came close to me. “The gentleman said a professional woman would meet me in the garden. The woman, a courtesan, would draw out my creativity like a muse . . . Forgive me, I’m very nervous.”

This fool thought I was a courtesan. This was an insult.

I blinked and readied to slap him, but the fellow seemed like he was about to faint. “What did your friend tell you to do when we met in the garden?”

“Something about kissing quickly to ward off my nerves. Livingston said you’d give me confidence. He claims that you will free my creativity. But that won’t happen. I’m far too nervous.”

“Am I not what you expected, sir?”

“Mark, Mark Sebastian. You’re one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever beheld. There’s a painting at Kenwood. I’m in love . . . I’m rambling again. All I know is you should never be a courtesan. You’re an angel with a heavenly voice and face. Don’t do something for money that will destroy who you are.”

Oddly, his fight to save me was dear. It had been a long time since anyone cared enough to make a fool of themselves for me or one of my sisters. I decided being mistaken for a courtesan wasn’t as bad as a man thinking me too good to be sullied.

He came closer and put my hands delicately in his. “Yet, if one must buy your attention, I’ve no doubts that a moment with you is priceless and that I’ll wish to see you again and again. One time, one temptation, wouldn’t be enough.”

Oh.

Didn’t know what to say. But with Katherine coming my way, gawking, how could I resist embarrassing her?

“Well, sir. Your luck has changed. As this is my first moment in this new profession, I’m offering samples.”

I took his cravat in my fingers and towed the willing gentleman into a kiss.