Chapter Six

I f Georgiana had found the ton exasperating before, now she found it infuriating. Four weeks had passed since Lady Andini’s ball, yet the whispers had not abated.

She sat in her favorite chair in the drawing room with her legs curled beneath her since no one was there to see. The drapes were pushed open to let in the sunshine, but there was so little of that, she lit a lamp. Her embroidery was tossed carelessly into a basket, and she held a book in her lap, smuggled from her father’s library—Father wouldn’t mind, but Mama frowned upon her reading “men’s books.” It had engaged her attention for a while, but she stalled on a set of equations that stymied her understanding. Those Hellenistic astronomers and their geometric models! She should put it down for now, but that would leave her brooding.

Oh! She was brooding. This would not do at all.

Mama had scolded her for disappearing with Lord Taverston but listened to her explanation and agreed it was just an unfortunate situation. Of course, she should not have gone to the garden with him. Still, under the circumstances, it had been a kindness.

A kindness. For which she was now being punished.

No, not punished. Set aside .

Mama said to ignore the gossip, or it would take wings. If they were to deny any understanding between her and Lord Taverston, how would it appear if he returned shortly and began to court her in earnest? If he were detained very much longer, rumors would lose traction, and gentlemen would start to come around again.

How irritating to actually miss having suitors.

She hated that she did not know what people were saying. She could guess the gist: people were linking her name with that of Lord Taverston. It was known by now that the Earl had taken ill, explaining the son’s abrupt departure. But what were the gossips reporting exactly? Mama must know but refused to dignify gossip by repeating it. Alice said she’d heard nothing, then blushed so hard Georgiana knew that she had. Wasn’t forewarned supposed to be forearmed? Yet rushing around denying everything would make it all worse. She had to rely on her mother’s good sense.

And if she ended up a spinster, so be it.

She had been to the theater weekly, a recital, three teas, and five more balls. She danced. She had partners of course, but the men were reserved. She received no morning-after bouquets. She had been taken on no rides in the park. Repetitive as she had once found them, these attentions were expected. And unexpectedly missed.

She spent one afternoon with Lady Caroline Newland, a longtime friend, who asked if she might sketch Georgiana and Alice. Caroline was not without talent but had trouble finding people to sit for her after she had exhausted her store of relatives. It had been pleasant enough, catching up, until Caroline asked if she had heard any word about the Earl of Iversley.

“Why would I have?” she replied in a freezing tone.

Caroline reddened and stammered, “N-no reason. Only I thought His Grace and the Earl were friendly.”

“I’m sure I don’t know. The Duke does not discuss his friendships with me.”

Which was true but disingenuous. Alice changed the subject abruptly by leaping from her stool and claiming a spider had crossed her shoe. Her cousin was a dear.

And Alice had received three bouquets this morning. Well, good for her.

Georgiana’s grand pet was interrupted by the butler.

“A caller has come. Viscount Haslet.”

Thank God . She sat up straight and shoved her book between the cushions. “Please bring him in.” Oh, but bother. She was alone. “And inform Her Grace.”

“Certainly, my lady.” He stepped aside to admit Hazard, who peered into the drawing room and then paused, hand on the doorframe. His morning coat hung loosely, lending his lean torso a lazy, comfortable appearance. She felt better just seeing him.

“Shall I wait?” he asked.

“Probably.” Then she threw up her hands. “No, that’s unreasonable. Come sit down.”

He sauntered in and took a chair a respectable distance from her, pushing aside a few pillows. He tented his fingers in front of his face.

“And how are you doing?”

“I am well. And you?”

He grimaced. “Perfect. Just perfect. What were you reading there? Something wildly inappropriate, I hope.”

“Worse.” She pulled it out and showed him.

“Astronomy?” His nose wrinkled. “Stars and planets and such?”

“I was hoping for pictures.”

He snorted. “Stuff it back. My head hurts just from the title.”

She did, just on time before Mama bustled into the room, her face wreathed with disapproval, her posture stiff. She saw Hazard and relaxed.

“Oh. It’s only you.”

“My dear lady,” he said, in an exaggerated huff, “that is simply rude.”

“Yes, it was. I apologize. I was in the midst of writing a letter and…” She glanced back at the door. “And I want to get it into the morning’s post.” She bit her lip. “Yes, well. I will just step out for a few minutes if you’ll forgive me. I won’t be long.”

Georgiana stared, shocked, but Hazard simply flicked his fingers and said, “Go on.”

Mama left them alone.

He looked at her and made a pained face. “How emasculating. Come, sit on my lap. It will serve her right.”

“Lord Haslet!” She choked on her laughter. “You are improper.”

“Too much so and not enough.” He set his gaze upon the mahogany table and its burden of flowers. She noted that his cheeks had flushed slightly. Mama had embarrassed him. Oh, it made her heart hurt.

“They are all Alice’s,” she said, crankily enough that he would notice and be amused.

“Well, yes.” He pointed to a tasteful, compact bouquet of white and pink tea roses. “Those are mine.”

“Yours?” Georgiana had not read the cards. Alice wouldn’t have minded, but still.

“And where is she this morning? If I may ask?” He was still looking at the flowers.

“Riding in the park with Mr. Gamby.”

“Ah.” He nodded and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “He’s a decent sort. Dibs not in tune, unfortunately, but he has expectations from his grandfather.”

“Do you know everything ? About everyone ?”

He looked back at her and smiled sheepishly. “I can’t help it. People tell me things. However, I don’t repeat everything. That is key.” He lifted a questioning eyebrow.

“Don’t expect any confidences,” she said, tossing her head. “I’m sure you already know more about me than I do.”

He chuckled. Then his thin, handsome face bunched into a knot, and he said, “I’d like to ask you something. Privately. You don’t need to answer, but please don’t tell anyone I asked.”

She peered at him closely but could guess nothing from his expression. “You may ask.”

“What does Miss Fogbotham expect from a marriage?”

“Excuse me?” She had been traveling in the wrong direction and now drew up short. “Alice?”

“Well, girls marry for some reason. Is it wealth? Status? Children? Or something intangible.”

“All those things,” she answered. He looked uncomfortable and did not wear it well. So she tried to answer gently and honestly, though she could not be more confused. “I don’t think Alice is overly concerned with status. Wealth is not a necessity, but comfort would be. And children, of course.”

“Well, that is not very helpful. If it were wealth and status…” He turned over his hands and tried to smile.

“Are you…?” Then she rattled the thought from her head and asked instead, “Does your mother require you to pursue one young lady per Season?”

“Ha! No.” He flopped back, sprawling, and rubbed his hands over his cheeks. “Not Mother. The old witch was too correct. My cousin’s son just borrowed—ha! ‘borrowed’ as if he’s ever repaid a guinea—yet another fifty pounds to keep his creditors from calling in his tickets. A little gambling at his age is nothing to carp about, but he has fallen in with the worst sort of people. He is never completely sober.” He stopped, stricken. “I do beg your pardon. I really meant to address my question to your mother. And without this much sordid detail.”

“Hazard, I am so sorry. And I’m discreet. I won’t say anything.”

“I fear it is partly my fault,” he went on, as if a dam had broken. “The boy has had his hands in my pockets for so long he thinks the coat is his. And his cronies trust that I will bail him out because I always have. It isn’t that I can’t afford to, it’s that I shouldn’t. So my mother has been telling me for years.”

“And you think if he were to marry Alice, it would reform him?”

“He? Bertram? Oh!” He chuckled. “No. I wash my hands of him. I gave him the money but told him no more. Then two days later, he showed up at my home and—” He stopped. His face grew pale, and he began to blink rapidly.

“And?”

“Nothing. I forget you are a mere child and innocent. What a horrible person I am.”

“You are not. What did he do? You may as well finish your sentence, or I am likely to imagine even worse.”

“It isn’t that terrible,” he muttered. “He merely insulted a good friend of mine is all. But loosely thrown insults can be dangerous. And Bertram is not entitled to my title and fortune if he is going to abuse it. Which it seems he will.” Shaking his head, he finished, “If I want a decent heir, it appears I will have to make one.”

“With Alice?”

“No. Oh, bedevil it, I don’t know. She laughs at my jokes. I like her. She’s a sweet thing. And I don’t think a title would hurt her.”

Georgiana was speechless. She had thought…well, she didn’t know precisely what she’d thought, but it included Hazard never marrying.

“The thing is,” he mused, “I would not be a bad husband. Just not a good one. I’m not too old for children and wouldn’t mind a few underfoot.” He lowered his voice and said, reddening for real, “But I would not be faithful, you see.” He lifted his chin and met her astonished, embarrassed gaze. “I would not demand it of her, either, once the heir was born, but I would want him to be mine. Silly, that, but I would. And I would give my name to any others.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Damn it. Yes. I will. You are absolutely right.”

“Alice would not…well, she just wouldn’t.”

“All right. Thank you. I figured you would give an honest answer. Otherwise…”

“Yes. No. I understand. I mean, please stop talking.”

They sat in miserable silence. She ached, and ached for him. But Alice deserved more. And Hazard deserved more.

“Maybe a widow?” she suggested tentatively. “One young enough for children?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can find someone,” he said mournfully. Then he shrugged. “Difficult though.”

She nodded. “Makes my difficulties appear minuscule.”

“Hmm.” He drummed his fingers on his knee. “My dear, your difficulties are minuscule.”

“I’m sure I’d agree if I knew what they were.”

It might be wrong to draw attention back to herself, but they were both too unsettled by his disclosures to continue discussing them. And switching to mindless banter seemed worse.

He snickered. “No one will tell you, eh?”

“Mama says not to pay any attention. But I can’t ignore what I am ignorant of.”

He glanced at the door, then back to her, before stage-whispering with mock seriousness, “Of course, you are aware there is an understanding between you and Lord Taverston.”

“I should think I would know if there were.”

“Well, I have heard three different versions, but they are close enough and all boil down to the same. Your fathers, or perhaps mothers, are closer friends than is commonly realized. It occurred to two of them, or all four, that a betrothal would suit everyone.”

“A betrothal?”

“Oh, yes. You have been betrothed for years. Congratulations, by the way.”

“This is absurd.”

“Well.” He leaned forward, rubbing his hands together like a good gossip should. “Last year you were finally of age, and quite the prize—as I’m sure you know, having startled a proposal even from the likes of me and Dunstun.” She frowned at the way this story was progressing. Half-truths were being combined to form complete falsehoods. He continued, “But brick that he is, Jasper, I mean, Lord Taverston, though his heart is firmly in your grip, insisted that you should not be tied to an age-old betrothal in which you’d had no say. He did not understand, you see, the depth of your devotion, giving consideration to your youth and cloistered upbringing.”

“Cloistered? Please tell me you are exaggerating for effect.”

“I’m afraid I distinctly heard the word ‘cloistered.’ Taverston insisted you have your Season. Because, you know, of course, that a girl denied a Season is forever bereft.”

“Ugh.” She put her head in her hands, unsure whether she wanted to laugh or cry.

“And the pining Lord Taverston would remain secluded in Iversley so as not to encumber you. Though I’m sure every offer you received took a year off his life. You should know your steadfast devotion brings old ladies to tears.”

“Surely no one believes this rot.”

“The pieces all fit.”

“But how does this end?”

“Happily ever after, I imagine.”

How infuriating! It had taken no more than their possessing the right lineage and dancing one dance to set tongues wagging about a betrothal . Of course, the ton would add two to two and come up with five.

The Duchess strode noiselessly into the room, startling them both.

“What fairy story are you telling, Lord Haslet?”

“Me? Just a bit of nonsense. A play I saw at a theater that I should not be discussing in polite company.”

“Honestly. We should not put up with you. I’m sorry to have been so long.”

“You should be.” Hazard bantered back. “I’ve overstayed my twenty minutes. And no one even offered me biscuits.”

“How embarrassing. And you, wasting away.”

He rose. Then bowed to each of them. “It’s been a very pleasant visit. Please extend my regrets to Miss Fogbotham.”

“You’ll call again?” Georgiana asked. She needed Hazard. Not only did he seem to understand her and sympathize, but he was the only one she trusted to tell her the truth.

“You can’t be rid of me. I’m like the sniffles in winter. Good day!”

After Hazard was out the door, Mama turned to Georgiana. “What nonsense was he spouting about Lord Taverston? Does he not know any better than to fill your head with peoples’ foolishness?”

“I asked him.”

“Even so. It was not well done of him to tell you.”

“It was driving me mad, Mama.”

“Are you any less maddened now?”

Georgiana drew in a breath, then blew it out. “It’s hard to be patient. I want to do something. But I know there isn’t anything to do.”

“Well,” Mama said, turning to the mantel and resting her arm upon it. Her expression was strangely discomposed. “I suppose there may be something.”

Georgiana raised her head expectantly.

“The letter I received was from Lady Iversley.”

She gulped. “What did she say?”

“The Earl is doing better than anyone anticipated. She did not elaborate, and I would not have expected her to, so I’m not sure what that means, precisely. At any rate, it seems Olivia will not make her debut this Season either. The girl has been stoic, but she is lonely, and Lady Iversley asks if you and Alice and I can be spared to keep her company for a few weeks. Perhaps through Christmas.”

“Oh, Mama, how awful.” Lady Iversley should invite an actual friend of Lady Olivia’s to keep her company and provide comfort, not three strangers. They were using the poor girl as an excuse to bring her and Lord Taverston together. “That will fool no one. It will feed the fire.”

“Of course it will. Or we can snuff it. I took so long because I composed a careful letter saying it might be unwise to put too much pressure on you children. But then I tore it up. You aren’t children. Lord Taverston will soon be deluged with responsibilities, and it would be convenient to have this , at least, settled. He must have asked Lady Iversley to write.”

“I am to be a convenience for him?” she demanded, irritated beyond measure that her mother expected her to play along with this farce, to play into the hands of the gossipy ton.

“Don’t be snide, love. It’s a very good match and I’m sure you can see that. Neither your father nor I will tell you whom you must marry, but frankly, you’ve turned down many offers that would make any other girl ecstatic. And Lord Taverston is…” She appeared to notice Georgiana’s expression and stopped her scolding. She came closer and tenderly caressed Georgiana’s cheek. “Dear, what are you looking for?”

“I don’t know. Mama, if I knew, I might have some hope of finding it.” She choked back her tears. Was she wrong to think falling in love required something more than summing up a man’s qualities and finding them sufficient? If anyone should understand what she yearned for, it should be Mama, who was blessed with a love-match. That was what she wanted, but she hadn’t the faintest idea how such matches came about. “What were you looking for when you met Father?”

Her mother sighed. “Someone kind. Someone who made me laugh.”

“But surely there were other men who met those criteria. Would you have loved them the way you love Father? Does it even matter who I wed?” Her tears flowed.

“Of course it matters, sweetheart. And we would not let you marry the wrong person. We would not have let you say ‘yes’ to Hazard even though all we adore him. We want you to be happy and you could not be with him.”

She asked, sobbing the question, not defiant but hopeful, “And you think I will be happy with Lord Taverston?”

“I think you could be. But it takes time. I don’t mean a long courtship. It takes, well, years. Years of effort, and arguments, and tears, and laughter. You have to grow together. Your father and I did not find instantaneous happiness.”

“You didn’t?” She shuddered a breath, then rubbed her arm across her nose. She didn’t know whether this was hopeful—she could grow to be happy with Lord Taverston—or terrifying—she could marry him based on that premise and then be disappointed. For the rest of her life. “I should have a handkerchief.”

“I don’t suppose you expected to become a watering pot. Georgiana, I tore up the letter I wrote because I realized I could not decide for you. If we don’t go to Chaumbers, there may be a chance for you and Lord Taverston to court later, but there may not. It’s unfair, but he may see this as a ‘no’ and look elsewhere. There is a chance, too, that you may yet meet someone here in London.”

“But if we do go to Chaumbers, it will seal my fate.”

“That is an ominous way to put it, but I think it’s likely it will.” She laughed a little hollowly. “The ton has already married you two off.”

“Alice will miss her Season.”

“Only a few weeks of it. And Lady Iversley writes that there are eligible gentlemen in the surroundings, and she will be inviting other young folks to help entertain you both and lighten the atmosphere. I don’t see that it will harm Alice any. Her coming out ball is not until the end of the Season and most of the plans for it are already under way.”

“I am beginning to believe the gossips are right and that you and Lady Iversley have been plotting this for years.”

Mama harumphed.

Oh! She was being a child. There was nothing wrong with Lord Taverston. She breathed deeply. “I think we should go.”