Chapter Sixteen

Georgie kept her eye out for Lord Edgethorne, and she saw that he danced twice before the supper dance began. He had chosen his partners from amongst the wallflowers, and she was happy to note neither time was with Miss Bancroft's disagreeable friends. She was determined to get to know more of these women. Already, she had a fondness for Miss Bancroft and thought to ask her to tea to get to know her a bit better.

Mama said, "I see Lord Blankenship coming this way to claim you for the supper dance. What do you think of him?'

"He is most amiable," she replied.

"Do you believe something might develop between the two of you?"

"That remains to be seen."

It wasn't as if she could tell her mother that she needed to kiss Lord Blankenship before she could consider him as marriage material, much less that she wanted to compare his kiss to that of Lord Edgethorne's.

Some things a girl just had to keep to herself.

The viscount arrived and bowed. Georgie accepted his extended arm and placed her fingertips atop it. He led them to the very center of the ballroom.

"My, do you wish to be the center of attention, having us dance with others surrounding us?" she teased.

"I want to be the center of your attention, my lady," he flirted, and she rewarded his remark with a smile as he took her hand in his and slipped an arm about her.

The music began, a waltz, as she had expected. She did not try to talk with him, since they would have plenty of time to do so over their shared supper hour. Instead, Georgie gave herself over to the music and enjoyed moving to its rhythm. Lord Blankenship was a more than adequate dancer, yet she couldn't help but remember her one dance with Lord Edgethorne. He was a man who knew how to move to a beat.

She pushed all thoughts of the marquess from her mind, dedicating herself to this dance and the company of the man she shared.

When the waltz ended, they began moving along with the others to the supper room.

"I hope you do not mind, but I did not arrange to dine with my friends as I usually do."

"Oh, no! Have you had a falling out with one or both of them?" Georgie asked worriedly.

"No, my lady. I merely was being selfish, wanting you all to myself this evening."

He guided her to one of the few tables for two and seated her. It was in a far corner, away from most of the other tables. It would easily allow her to observe the room.

And Lord Edgethorne and Miss Bancroft.

She turned her attention back to the viscount. "This will give us a chance to have a decent conversation without interruption. Should we get something to eat first?"

"I will do so for the both of us," he told her. "Stay here so that others know this table is occupied."

She watched Lord Blankenship head for the buffet line, and then her eyes drifted across the room, delighted to find Lord Edgethorne and Miss Bancroft had joined James and Sophie and another two couples at a table. She caught her brother's eye and nodded approvingly. James winked at her.

Her eyes continued viewing the room, locating various gentlemen who had called upon her since the Season began. She found her mother sitting with a very handsome man, perhaps a few years older than Mama. She could not remember the gentleman's name, but she had heard he was a recent widower with two young children, in search of a wife to help him raise the two boys. Georgie wondered if Mama would be interested in raising another woman's children, and she supposed it wouldn't matter if Mama fell in love with this man. Her mother was so open and giving, Georgie only prayed that Mama could find happiness after such a long, unsatisfying marriage.

Lord Blankenship returned, placing a plate in front of her and then taking a seat opposite her.

"I hope I was able to choose some of your favorites, Lady Georgina. I took note of what you ate the last time we took supper together and what you left on your plate."

"That was most observant of you, my lord. You did bring me an abundance of food that time, however. I might have actually liked a few things which I left on my plate that night, but I needed to limit what I consumed so that I might still be light on my feet when I danced."

"You are an excellent dancer. I have also heard that you play the pianoforte extremely well. How often do you practice?"

"I try to every morning. Since the Season began, however, I do not always get in practice each day. I do feel at one with my instrument, though. Music has always spoken to something within me."

"Edgethorne was the same way," the viscount told her. "He could play the piano like no other. It is a pity now that he will have had to give it up, missing fingers and all."

She had not known the marquess played, much less that he played so well. He had complimented her own playing. Now that she knew he once was a musician, the compliment meant even more to her.

"So, tell me about your school days with the marquess. And your other friends," she added, not wanting him to think she was focused on Lord Edgethorne.

He told some amusing stories of scrapes they had been in during their days at Eton, and how they had also gone to university together, as well.

"We shared rooms while at Cambridge. Edgethorne is the most genial man I have ever met. Full of life and laughter. Of course, we all knew things would change when he took up his commission that sent him off to war."

Blankenship shook his head sadly. "I have tried to meet with him, but he has not acknowledged the two notes I have sent to him."

Sympathy for the marquess filled Georgie. "You must remember that he is still getting over the deaths of his father and brother," she reminded him. "And that he has assumed a title he was ill-prepared to take on. That is on top of the war injuries he suffered. Give him time, my lord. The marquess was a good friend to you once. Perhaps he can be again."

"You are right, Lady Georgina. You have a wisdom about you that few others possess."

He looked at her longingly, and she believed the time had come for her to see if they were meant to be together.

"The supper room has grown extremely warm," she commented, hoping her words might nudge him into action.

He took the hint. "Would you care to stroll in the gardens until the ball resumes? I would be happy to escort you there for a brief respite."

"That would be lovely, my lord."

They left the supper room through a set of French doors and were not the only couple doing so. Two others followed them and when they reached the terrace outside, she saw another couple strolling along it. She had known this was something others did, and she wondered how many of these women would receive kisses in the dark tonight.

"Why don't we go along this path?" Lord Blankenship said. "I believe we will find a bench we can sit on while we admire the view of the gardens."

"Lead the way, my lord," she said cheerfully, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.

They moved at a leisurely pace, a comfortable silence between them. She really did like him very much. If it turned out he was not the one for her, she hoped they might continue a friendship. Then again, she did not know of any ladies amongst the ton who were simply friends with a gentleman.

Reaching the promised bench, they took a seat upon it. The night air was slightly cool, and Georgie shivered involuntarily.

"Would you care to wear my coat?" he asked.

"No, that is not necessary," she said. "However, you might place your arm about me to help ward off the chill."

She did not want anyone to come across them and see Blankenship without his coat on. That would give the wrong impression. She did not think an arm about her would be nearly as suspect.

He slipped his arm around her back, his hand curling about her waist. He was quite warm, and she liked the smell of his shaving soap.

Turning to say something to him, he placed his index finger against her lips.

"Let me say what I need to, my lady."

She nodded, her heart racing, and he lowered his finger.

"I find you most interesting, Lady Georgina. I like your kindness toward all and how you are interested in everything about you. Might I have permission to kiss you?"

Since this was the very reason she had come out here with him, she smiled.

"Yes, my lord. You may kiss me."

He lowered his head, his lips meeting hers, pressing gently.

She felt nothing.

Frustration filled her. Georgie liked this man. She wanted to like his kiss.

She also did not want him to know she had been kissed before, and so she kept still, not reacting.

Gradually, he began to tease her mouth open, slipping his tongue inside. She did not respond, merely allowing him to keep to his task.

When he finally withdrew, he gazed deeply into her eyes, sadness in his own.

"You did not enjoy the kiss, did you?"

She shrugged, wanting to let him down gently. "It was quite... nice," she said primly.

"Nice is not enough," he told her. "I was hoping there would be a spark between us, but I will admit that I felt nothing myself."

Relief filled her. "I will be honest, my lord. I enjoy your company very much. You are intelligent and handsome. Most pleasant to be around. I was very much hoping we would suit."

She paused. "But I am looking for that spark which you mentioned. Seaton found it with his duchess. My own twin found it with Viscount Hopewell. I promised myself I would not settle. That I want to find lasting love."

"I was not looking for a love match, Lady Georgina." He smiled wryly. "But I was hoping I might have found one with you. You do realize a love match is quite rare amongst ton marriages?"

She nodded. "It may escape me this Season. And in Seasons to come. Still, I have to be true to myself. It is what I want. I cannot settle."

"Then I will say it has been a pleasure—and privilege—getting to know you, my lady. I will not take up anymore of your valuable time, however. I am seeking a wife this Season, just as you wish to find a husband who will love you. I do not want to take up space on your programme. I will refrain from calling upon you, as well."

A wave of sadness filled her. "I hope that we are parting as friends, my lord."

"I believe we are, my lady," he said, smiling fondly at her. "I hold no animosity and even applaud your honesty with me. I do hope you will find what you are looking for."

Lord Blankenship leaned in and softly brushed his lips against hers a final time in parting. Then he stood.

"Shall we return to the ball?"

"I believe I will go to the retiring room."

"Then let us go," he said, offering his arm to her.

The viscount took her back to the ballroom, and Georgie descended the stairs, going to where the retiring room was located.

While she was doing her business behind the drawn curtain, she caught Lord Edgethorne's name in conversation and stilled.

"I cannot understand why Edgethorne goes where he is not wanted," a voice said.

"It is hopeless," a second replied. "Even with him now dancing with wallflowers, no lady will ever wish to wed him. Can you imagine what might be under that eyepatch he wears?"

The two tittered, and the first said, "The scars are horrid to look upon, but the hole where his eye once was?"

Laughter erupted again.

Georgie smoothed her ballgown and pulled the curtain aside, emerging. Immediately, the two women looked at her guiltily and exited the retiring room.

She washed her hands in the basin, accepting a towel from the attendant and drying her hands. Anger surged through her, and she hurried from the retiring room, catching up to the two gossips, stepping in front of them to block their progress.

"You are despicable," she told the pair. "You are raking over the coals a fine man. One who has sacrificed greatly for our country."

Knowing both of these women had brothers, she demanded, "How would you treat your own brother if he came home from war scarred in a like manner? Would you laugh at him? Criticize him? Make fun of him? No, you would still love him, scars and all, because he was the same brother you had loved your entire life. Lord Edgethorne is the man he has always been. Yes, his looks have been altered, but the marquess still has much to offer. To society. To his friends. And to his future marchioness.

"My advice to you would be to hold your wicked tongues. Gossip is vicious—and other gossips turn on one another with great regularity. You would not wish to be the topic of gossip yourself. You would not want your injured brother to be a topic of the gossips, as well. Neither should Lord Edgethorne be one."

The two women's eyes had grown large as she spoke, their mouths trembling. They ducked their heads and skirted around her.

Georgie took a deep breath, trying to release the anger still within her, anger for all those who had gossiped unmercifully about Lord Edgethorne.

She turned, ready to return to the ballroom.

The Marquess of Edgethorne stood in her path.

Embarrassment flooded her face, knowing he must have heard at least part of the dressing down she had given the two gossips.

Curtseying quickly, she said, "My lord," and rushed past him before he could say a word.