Chapter Twenty-One

T he day could not get any drearier. When Georgiana decided, by the clock on the wall, that it must be nearing teatime, she took herself to the ladies’ parlor, hungry, tired, and hoping to find Reginald there. He was not. She was the first to arrive. She settled on the davenport, close to the fire, watching the flickering tongues behind the grate.

Finally, she had something to report. And she wanted very badly to give him good news. The discrepancies had ceased to occur about three to three-and-a-half years ago. It was impossible, of course, to be sure of anything in the last eight months; Reginald had only entered the bills and receipts he was given. But those were now tidied and tabulated, and he could, if he wished, hand those books over to the new steward without being embarrassed by them. If this new steward were to look back over the last three years, he would find nothing amiss.

She had learned something else, but it was not worth reporting. At least, she didn’t think it was. In the earlier books, the servants were listed individually by name rather than by job performed. Later, they were lumped into categories and only the highest-ranking servants were named.

One early name had jumped out at her. Lucy Carter. There was no one with the initials C.B. After three years, Lucy disappeared and instead, C.B. appeared, no name, just initials, but only for a year. Just like the “gifts.” Georgiana had no idea what it all meant, if anything. She was afraid Reginald would think she was mad, poring over the servants’ entries. Servants came and went in large households. Likely that was why Bradwell gave up keeping track of them.

Yet something about it bothered her.

So. Did Reginald want her to keep looking? Perhaps he would rather remain ignorant of what they might find. Blackmail and bribery had been ironic hypotheticals. But what could the true explanation be? And did it matter? Reginald said it seemed unimportant now. Maybe it was.

Not Reginald but rather Crispin came striding into the room. His hair was damp and there was mud on his boots. He stripped off his gloves, warmed his hands before the fire, and then sprawled down next to her, laying soggy gloves on the arm of the davenport.

“Good afternoon,” she said, aware that her voice held a note of disapproval. “You are wet.”

He grinned at her. “I took my chances with the weather, but it didn’t work. Here you still are. Where is everyone else?”

“I don’t know. But you needn’t worry. I won’t ask any impertinent questions.”

His eyebrows flew up. “Are you referring to the thing to which you are not allowed to refer?” His indignation seemed more mocking than sincere, but she was not in the mood for teasing, so she made no answer. He sat up straighter and drew his knees together. “I have found that drilling my men in foul weather is better for morale than letting them huddle in the wet, complaining. It works for officers as well.”

That was an interesting insight into Crispin’s character. The man had more layers than an onion. “Are you a hard taskmaster?”

“Yes.” He drummed his hands restlessly on his knees. “After tea, I will march you all out into the rain.”

“Even Jasper?” she asked, smiling now, because she was teasing even if he was not. “Does he take orders from you?”

“Jasper has not yet returned. I went out to the stables to sing to my horse—”

“To what?”

“Mercury is high-strung. He doesn’t like heavy rain. While I was there, I saw that one of the grooms had taken a horse into the village for Jasper to ride back. The horse is still gone.”

Georgiana shook her head. “Will you march us all out to the stables to sing after tea?”

Now a smile did spread over his face. “Mercury would love to hear you sing. Will you?”

“I can never tell if you are joking.”

“It takes practice. But I think not the stables. I think we should all go out to the folly. It was built to mimic the ruins of an abbey. Rain improves the atmosphere of decay.”

“Still can’t tell.” She was never bored talking with him . Probably because he was not courting her.

“The last bit was all serious. Except that Mother would not approve of such an outing, so I don’t really think we should go. Now, you tell me: how did you spend this wearisome afternoon?”

“Reading.” That was close to the truth.

“Ah, did you? You found something worthwhile in our library?” His nose wrinkled skeptically. But she had a sudden idea.

“No, it was a book I’d brought from home. A novel.” She blinked and looked down at her hands. She hoped she was blushing at least a little. She meant to appear a little silly and embarrassed to be so. “I’m…to be honest, I’m a little lost.”

“I think authors do that intentionally.”

“But maybe you can help.” She went on quickly before she lost her nerve. If he knew anything about the old servants, perhaps she could surprise an answer from him. “There is a rather shadowy figure in the novel. The men refer to her only by her initials: C.B.. Do those initials mean anything to you?”

He bit his cheek. A gleam came into his eyes. “I suspect they are referring to Miss Blanche.”

“Miss Blanche?”

“ Carte Blanche.”

Her expression, once she caught his meaning, must have been appalled because he burst out laughing. “Good Lord, Georgiana. What kind of books does the Duchess allow you to read?”

“I’m sure that’s not it,” she said, her heated blush scalding now. But she was sure it was. C.B. was the Earl’s mistress. Lucy Carter may have been so as well. Or they were one and the same. Her heart sank. When the Earl and Lady Iversley married, Bradwell hid Lucy’s name, and then— Good Heavens! Oh, she was too, too certain. Because when Lady Iversley began putting her own entries into the account books, all evidence of C.B. disappeared. Lest the Countess stumble upon it.

Oh. Her heart sank even further. The payments had continued.

She needed to have another look at the books. Had they been continuous throughout the Earl’s marriage? Could there have been more than one woman?

Did anyone besides Bradwell know?

“Georgiana, I am so sorry.” Crispin sounded concerned. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. What an oaf I am! Certainly, that is not what the initials mean in your novel. That is too scandalous. Please forgive me.”

“You needn’t apologize.” Her voice wavered. “There is assuredly another explanation in my book. But I’m not so priggish that you embarrassed me.”

“I didn’t mean that you are priggish. Only innocent.”

“Let us change the subject, if you please.”

She had gone from hot to chilled to hot again. She stood and moved away from the fire, unable to bear Crispin’s gaze. She wracked her brain for something to divert him. Suddenly, she recalled what Alice had said, and she turned back to look at him. “Is your valet a spy?” She forced a wry smile. “Alice thinks so.”

“Does she?” One eyebrow rose. Then fell. He cleared his throat, accepting the abrupt change in topic. “She’s in good company. But he is not.”

“Excuse me?” Now she was diverted.

“Not a spy. Merely a do-gooder who likes patching up bleeding men, no matter their nationality.”

“You don’t mean…Frenchmen?” Napoleon’s soldiers?

At that moment, Reginald and Olivia entered the parlor and Crispin stood up. Olivia had been crying. Reginald merely looked morose.

“Were you with Father?” Crispin asked.

Reginald nodded. “He isn’t any worse. Just no better. He’s going to crack a rib with that cough.”

Crispin muttered, “I hate that he’s suffering.”

“Mother is not coming down for tea. She suggested we go ahead and ring for it. Olivia can pour. Alice and the Duchess are on their way down.” Poor Reginald was forcing the words from his mouth. Georgiana made up her mind. She would not tell him anything except that the most recent three years were sound. Even if her suspicions were right, they were not important now.

*

Tea had been dismal. Dinner, with Jasper returned, was even worse. Georgiana thought he looked worn down. He was grim and barely communicative. He did make one announcement, which was that Dr. Haraldsen would be around later in the evening, not only to check on the Earl but also to see if it was feasible to have Jeremy and Jeffrey removed to their home in the morning. If so, he asked Crispin to escort them. He could, if he wished, take Adam along.

It was not tactfully stated, sounding less like a request than a command. Georgiana half expected a snide reply from Crispin, but he merely nodded and answered: of course .

After dinner, the Taverstons all slunk away. Mama shepherded Georgiana and Alice into the ladies’ parlor to sit with their embroidery and not bother anyone. Georgiana only did needlework for show and had been embroidering the same pillow slip for two years. But she had no heart to return to the library to confirm her suspicions. In fact, she’d had another inkling of something even worse and truly did not want to know.

They settled into the parlor’s armchairs and one of the maidservants lit the lamps for them. Embers still glowed in the fireplace, so Mama told the girl she needn’t rebuild the fire. Then they were alone.

At first, while they sewed, Mama read excerpts from a letter she’d received from Charles. Alice made appropriate noises in response, but Georgiana barely listened. Her brother was a dutiful but unenthusiastic correspondent. He listed for Mama and Father his recent activities, but not whether he enjoyed them. He named what he was studying but gave no indication of what caught his interest and what did not. It bothered Mama, but Father always laughed and said men of Charles’ age were naturally sparing with details when writing to their mothers.

Thinking of this now did not make Georgiana smile. Would Charles take a mistress? Had Father ever had one? She was certain he was faithful to Mama, but…

What about Jasper? Did he intend to follow in his father’s footsteps? Would Crispin? She felt a sharp ache in her chest. Would Reginald?

Mama laid the letter down. She, too, looked tired, heavy-lidded, with frown lines around her mouth. There was even a smudge of ink on her fingers.

“I have been wondering,” she said, “if we ought not to depart for home in the morning. Georgiana? How would you feel if we left the Taverstons to wait upon the Earl without having to worry about entertaining us? Especially with Christmas next week…’”

“I think that might be for the best,” she answered, but the thought of leaving Reginald gave her a tight feeling in her throat.

“Is there anything I should know?” Mama peered at her closely. “Has Lord Taverston put anything into words? I know it has only been a few days, difficult days for the family, but you have spent some time with him. Has he…”

“He has not indicated that he will offer for me.” Georgiana decided that the kiss and its aftermath had canceled each other out.

Her mother’s brow furrowed with consternation. “He will, surely. But now I think it would have been better had we waited for him to return to London. It will be awkward for us to go back, with nothing having been said, and everyone at home assuming we’ve come to announce a betrothal.”

“How can anyone assume that?” Georgiana exclaimed, annoyed.

“Dear, we all expect it. You two make a very handsome couple. And you do seem to enjoy one another’s company.”

“I enjoy Lieutenant Taverston’s company,” she said with a huff, avoiding Reginald’s name. “Do you expect me to receive an offer from him as well?”

“Don’t be rude, Georgiana.” Then she softened. “And don’t be concerned. There is no need for Lord Taverston to rush. I suppose I’m just fretting because they are sending the twins home. I expect the Earl will not linger much longer. And the timing is so poor.” She grimaced. “That isn’t what I mean, of course. It’s only that Lord Taverston has so much on his mind right now. I don’t think you should worry that he isn’t interested.”

“Mama, that is the least of my worries.”

Her mother gave her an odd look. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. Then, because she didn’t want to continue giving the wrong impression about her own intentions, she said, “I’m just not certain I’d want to accept an offer if he made one.”

Mama sighed with clear irritation. “Georgiana, we’ve had this discussion, haven’t we? I’m sure Lord Taverston is not sweeping you off your feet, but if you can’t make allowances for his situation, then I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Georgiana’s eyes stung.

Alice interceded, her hesitation to do so evidenced by the strain in her voice. “Lord Taverston has been distracted, but even so, he shows a decided preference for Georgiana’s company. I’m sure back in London…” Her words trailed off. Lord Taverston would not return to London until after his father’s death.

Mama picked up her letter and stood, shaking out her skirts.

“I’m going up to bed. I don’t think you two should remain up much longer either.” She walked to the door and then turned. “Georgiana, I’m sorry. I know you were reluctant to come here and now, I think you were correct. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I didn’t know quite how sick the Earl was.”

She waited, but Georgiana had no answer to make.

“Your father and I want you to be happy, to have a good life, and I do think Lord Taverston is the correct gentleman for you. I know—” She held up a hand to forestall any protest. “I know that you are not head over heels in love with him. But love will come.”

She took a few steps back into the room and spoke more quietly. “Sometimes a girl may feel a rather instantaneous attraction for a gentleman, or even for more than one gentleman, before she…before she understands what she is feeling. That isn’t necessarily love.” She gave Georgiana a searching look, then continued. “I was always rather relieved that you seemed so sensible. We never worried you would run off with a stableboy. Or have your head turned by an inheritance chaser. But I hope you aren’t dead set on…on a spark. Sometimes a girl needs to admire and care for a man first and then that special attraction will follow. Give it a chance.”

A sob welled up in Georgiana’s breast and she couldn’t speak without bursting into tears. She had felt the spark. How was she to explain to her mother that she felt it not for Lord Taverston, but for his younger brother? She could not marry Jasper and spend the rest of her life as a sister to the man she loved with all her soul.

How could anyone believe she and Jasper made a perfect match? Could they not sense the invisible cord drawing her and Reginald together?

But would Reginald ask for her? When the whole world believed she had already promised herself to his brother, how could he? And what would Jasper think? Or do? She feared Reginald would not, could not, alienate his brother. And she should not want that!

She had felt the love in this family. In all this horrible mess, that was one comfortable, wonderful thing she had noted. The love. The brothers rallied one another. And they adored Olivia. They were good to their mother. They were devastated by their father’s illness. These lords of Iversley shared a bond.

And here she had come to Chaumbers, landing like a cannonball in their midst. Was she to spring upon the family the devastating news that the Earl had been unfaithful to his wife throughout the whole of their marriage? And then, was she to tear apart the brothers?

“Why don’t we wait and see what tomorrow brings,” Mama said.