Chapter 23

Georgiana stifled a giggle as she took her seat again, shaking her head. The encounter with Lord Blythe had been unpredictable in many ways, most of all her husband's reactions.

She had begun to understand how closed off he was and how he preferred to be. But everything the Earl said had surprised Owen. The way he had hastened to his feet showed how eager he was. She could see the brightness in his eyes flickering with a hunger she hadn't known he could express.

It was so precious to see that window to his soul if only for a moment. I'm glad to know there are things in this world that can make him happy. He so often appears determined to be miserable.

Sighing, she watched her husband disappear down the hall. Her amusement turned into appreciation. It was obvious he was spending the evening trying to act the part for her sake. His attendance alone was enough.

Already she had heard more whispers than she liked about how no one really knew what he had even looked like. There were also conversations about all the rumors about him––they grew more outlandish with every new one that she heard. Though she'd been careful never to take the gossip rags seriously, Georgiana was beginning to realize just how ludicrous they were.

"Isn't he the duke who went mad in France and was disguised as an old maid to flee Paris?" she had heard just that evening.

The ton could say what they liked, to be certain. But no one knew her husband. Even she only knew part of him.

It isn't much, I fear, but it is still something. It will have to be enough for now, I suppose. If he continues to try building this relationship with me, then surely I will get to know him even more. But we have made great progress, and I meant what I said. I know him well enough. He isn't what the ton makes him out to be. It makes me wish they knew him better.

Though it was an unrefined thing to do, Georgiana rested her chin on her hand, with her elbow on the table. Her eyes settled on the door through which her husband had gone. If others whispered about her as well, she decided she didn't care. She was a duchess, she had Owen as a husband, and she would keep what she had. No one could touch it.

Supper at the ball was composed of small tables for intimate conversations. There were two buffet tables set up on either side, with servants carrying large trays about to clear the food or bring something new to the tables. This made for a busy atmosphere and a steady buzz of voices.

It was nice, Georgiana decided. She could have a moment to herself while being surrounded by half the city. Slowly, she relaxed in her seat and gave a slight nod when a servant came by to clear away her plate.

The doors to her left opened into the ballroom. She could see a new chalk outline for dancers, and fewer candles were lit. The night wasn't over yet. There were still plenty of hours for everyone to enjoy dancing and talking and playing.

"I do hope this isn't your way of showing how bored you are at this dull ball." Marjory plopped down in Owen's chair and pouted at her. "Georgiana, what are you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything. What do you think I'm doing?" Georgiana asked after a heartbeat.

Sighing, her cousin gave an artful shrug. "I don't really know. But it looks like you're mooning over your husband, who left at least fifteen minutes ago."

"It was not that long." Georgiana wrinkled her nose. "I wasn't doing that, was I?"

With a look over her shoulder, Marjory merely responded, "That is certainly what it looked like. But what do I know? You were just complaining about your husband and how––"

"Shh," Georgiana hissed. She shook her head. "Marjory, I haven't complained for some time. Nor is that an appropriate topic of conversation outside the confines of my home."

Marjory considered her words for a moment before offering an apologetic nod. She looked around and then said, "I fear you're quite right. My apologies, Georgiana. You must know I didn't mean anything by it. I fear I'm not in my right mind tonight. Mother and Father are… well, they're quite frustrating."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Georgiana rose as her cousin did, but paused when a familiar face caught her eye. "We really should talk more about that as well, Marjory. I'd like to help if I can, but… Is that my father here?"

"Hm? Oh, fancy that." Marjory really did sound surprised. "I didn't know he knew where we lived. He never visits."

"He never attends balls either."

Marjory turned to her. "Do you think he is here to see you?"

"He would have surely found me by now if he was seeking me," Georgiana reassured her, then frowned. "If anything, I would have assumed he might be avoiding me. But look at him, talking with the Baron. Perhaps he came here for business."

"Do you think you will speak with him?"

"I…" Georgiana hesitated.

She couldn't very well spend the rest of the night without talking to her father now. If anyone noticed that the two of them were not interacting, it would surely raise suspicions. She knew her husband might not care, but her father might.

Which is why he should come see me. What is he doing here? I'm not sure I even care. I only wish to know, to understand him… How little time he makes for me. I wonder if he even cares. He hasn't responded to most of my letters, and I know how thorough he can be about them.

"Wish me luck." Georgiana walked off before Marjory could convince her of anything else.

She took carefully measured breaths on her way over. Feeling her heart rate pick up, she waited for her father to glance her way. But he seemed determined not to. Even the Baron Hoggart nodded her way with a polite smile.

As the two men stood next to the double doors leading into the ballroom, Georgiana had to politely pass a few people on the way, before finally reaching the two men.

"Father," she called a step in advance, in case he still refused to notice her. Nor could she fathom him daring to cut her. "What a wonderful surprise to see you here this evening."

Her father turned to look at her blankly. It took longer than she thought necessary for the furrow in his brow to soften, as though he was remembering who she was.

"Georgiana—or Your Grace, I believe I should call you. I didn't know you would be here. Lord Hoggart, do you know my daughter?"

"I do, indeed. You introduced us once, I believe, at the Queen's garden party several years ago. Would I be amiss in that memory?"

The Baron glanced at her father and then at her with a polite smile after kissing her knuckles.

"That would be correct," she reassured him. "I've also had the pleasure of attending the opera twice with your wife two Seasons ago." When there was a pause, she forged on, refusing to be cowed by her father's silence. "I do hope I'm not interrupting. It's so rare that I see my father out and about, you see."

The Baron had the good grace to chuckle. "Oh, don't I know it! It took three requests to convince him to attend this ball. The Duke of York is in attendance, and we need his weight behind a bill we are taking to the floor next week."

"It's important business," her father affirmed with a nod.

Georgiana smiled until her cheeks hurt. She wondered yet again why her father preferred to keep his distance. Though he was being polite, she could tell how he aimed to be unapproachable even to his own daughter. His posture was stiff, and he didn't turn to face her entirely.

"I'm glad to hear you are keeping busy." She swallowed, hoping he would be at least polite enough to ask about her. But nothing more was said. "But I suppose I should not keep you two––"

"Oh, don't mind me," Lord Hoggart interjected. "I see my wife at the refreshments table again. Pardon my departure. Lord Lincoln, I only need a moment. Don't go anywhere."

As the Baron hurried off, her father shifted slightly to face the room. She shifted to stand in his line of sight. Looking up at him, she managed to smile wider.

It wasn't really for herself that Georgiana even talked with him. They would never understand each other fully—this was something she was learning to accept. However, she would not let her sister have an upbringing like her own. Emma deserved better.

"Is there something you need from me?" her father asked. "I can see you are quite happy. If there is nothing more you need from me, you should be with your husband."

"My husband doesn't need me at the moment. Do you know who does, though? Need me, I mean. Or need you?"

That garnered a reaction at last.

A small sigh of resignation escaped his lips. He fumbled with the glass of whiskey in his hand before shifting his gaze to her again. "Emma is alive and safe, Your Grace."

Strange. I had hoped to feel some sort of satisfaction upon hearing that title. But there is nothing. I don't care what he calls me. I only wish he would listen.

Clinging to her patience, Georgiana stated her case. "You don't need to do anything for me ever again. I agree to that. I have my own money now, and I do have a husband. I'll even stop writing letters to you if that is what you would prefer." She waited for him to argue. When he didn't, she ignored the way her heart was breaking and summoned her courage. "All I want is to make sure that Emma is happy."

"Happiness is not a requirement. It's subjective," he stated.

But her father quieted when she gave a slight shake of her head.

Keeping her voice down, since she knew neither of them wanted an audience, Georgiana said, "Happiness is something that every child deserves. Emma deserves happiness, Father. You have removed the one family member who talked to her and played with her and loved her. A nurse or governess will never fill that hole you created. She needs someone. She needs you."

"I don't play. And she's getting older," her father said warningly.

"And yet I still like to play as well." Georgiana lifted her chin. "She likes stories and riding ponies and picking flowers. Emma is a bright girl who can make you very proud. She's going to be wonderful. She already is. But at the heart of the matter, she is just a little girl who needs someone at her side. She doesn't have her mother, and she no longer has her sister. So, I am kindly asking you , begging you without falling to my knees to attract unwanted attention, to please be there at her side. You cannot be so distant toward her. She deserves better."

As she gave her impassioned argument, the words tumbling right from her heart, Georgiana studied her father's expression. He looked ready to argue twice more but said nothing.

He sucked in his teeth and looked down at his glass for a long minute when she was done.

Please, Father. Do the right thing.

"Perhaps two governesses would do," he relented.

"One governess, one playmate, and one father," Georgiana corrected him. "You can afford that, and she deserves it."

He sighed. "This is why I do not respond to your letters. You make unreasonable demands. I don't have time for such matters."

"You have to make time for things you don't want all the time. I know you do that in politics. And Emma knows, too, how you avoid her," Georgiana pointed out. She started to point her finger at him before hastily dropping her hand. She clenched it into a fist at her side. "Father, you cannot just put her on a shelf and expect her to do and be everything you want."

"I did that with you, and see how you turned out," he said with a slight smirk.

But she shook her head. "I became who I am in spite of your stubborn and distant ways, Father. I know you love us, I do. But you cannot win in this way. Find a way to be there for Emma, or else I shall make trouble."

Her father's face went blank. "Trouble? Georgiana, be serious."

She straightened up and stared at him coolly. "I am serious, Father. If you knew me better, you would understand I have never been more serious than I am at this moment. Do not forget who you married me off to. I am a duchess. I have resources at my disposal."

Huffing, he shook his head. "I can't believe you would do this."

Nor could she. Georgiana couldn't imagine what she was actually saying. Trouble? She didn't like upsetting people most of the time. She didn't want to think about hurting anyone. But with Emma on her mind and in her heart, it was difficult to stand there and do nothing.

"I'll know about anything you do," she continued. "So I expect to see improvements in her life soon. But I see Lord Hoggart returning. Do give him my regrets that I could not stay to talk longer."

Oh goodness. Oh goodness. Oh goodness. My goodness. What have I done?

Georgiana's mind went blank as she turned away and left her father's side. She'd managed to get the last word in. Heat rolled over her. She gasped for air while she replayed in her mind what had just happened. She'd made a threat, empty as it might be, and she just walked away. And she had done that to her father!

She crossed the ballroom to the terrace outside. Every step felt heavy and clumsy. She felt as if everyone was staring at her, though she could see no proof of anyone even glancing her way.

Was that courage or pure foolishness?

Fanning herself, Georgiana reached the edge of the terrace, where she stood looking down at the dark gardens. A few lamps were lit along the well-known paths. Toward the right would be a small maze she used to love getting lost in with Marjory.

Noting a few people enjoying a stroll in the evening air, Georgiana hoped no one would approach her while she caught her breath.

A short laugh of disbelief escaped her lips. What had she been thinking? Though she had attempted to stand up to her father before, it had never gone over like this. It felt like a victory.

"What a beautiful sound that plays like a harp on the wind."

She heard footsteps behind her, then a man stopped before her.

Georgiana blinked as he leaned on the balcony with a loose grin, gazing back at her. It took her a moment to recognize him. She thought him one of the young men she had amused at the last masquerade ball, but he was a little older.

"Lord Hornstooth." She nodded. The thrill in her chest died down, And a new unsettling feeling sat in her gut. "How nice it is to see you this evening."

"Nice, indeed."

Graham Timberlane, the Viscount Hornstooth, inched closer. Close enough for Georgiana to smell how much he had been drinking. There was the scent of cheroot as well—a heavy smell that immediately nauseated her.

She glanced around to make sure they were not too far away from other people. Part of her also hoped he might have friends or someone who might be ready to take him away. The man was a horrid gambler and philanderer. It was one thing she knew well enough by rumor and rumor only. Even her father, in her first Season, had warned her about him.

"Don't ever consider him a potential choice," her father had said. "He's horrid. Like a wart."

A frank warning but one nonetheless. Lord Hornstooth was not the trustworthy sort. Another dire fact was that he seemed to have set his sights on her.

Why now, I cannot imagine. What does he want with me this evening? We never even talked, though I suppose we might have been introduced before. Oh, what a horrid cravat that is. And his stench is not helped by the warm evening.

"I suppose we could make it nicer," Lord Hornstooth continued, "now that your thieving husband is away."

She inched back when he came closer. "I beg your pardon?"

"Everyone knows. He stole a priceless ruby from a German prince. Before long, he'll be dragged back to the Continent to hang for his crimes. A pity, for he would leave you a young widow."

Georgiana struggled to hold back her laughter at his ridiculous statement. "I'm afraid you've heard wrong, My Lord. That's quite a false accusation."

The man pressed a hand to his heart. "Not I! I would never dream of beleaguering such a man. And yet the truth is out. Why, is he not hoping to return to Persia and his harem of women? Thirty-three is the last count," he added with a pointed look.

As absurd as it was, the insinuation still made her flush. She hated herself for a moment before redirecting her anger at him. Whether he sought to flirt with her or provoke her anger, it didn't matter.

"That is enough, Lord Hornstooth. You do His Grace wrong."

"I would never dream of harming you. All I wish is to protect you. A lying cheat like your husband doesn't deserve the beauty that you are," Lord Hornstooth said blithely.

She moved out of his reach when he stretched out his arm to her. "I take issue with your tone and your false claims," she snapped. "Leave me at once before I have you removed."

Her hands itched to strangle him when he laughed. The man finally straightened up before shooting her the most demeaning look she had ever seen. Even her former governess couldn't manage such an expression when she had occasionally failed her.

"Now, now, Your Grace, why would you wish to do that? A waltz is about to begin, and I must dance with you. What a world we could create when hand in hand!"

"I would rather dance with a rabbit among wolves." She stepped back again. Struggling to stay composed, Georgiana knew she had to leave before she did anything rash. "You had best seek entertainment elsewhere because I will not bear another moment in your company. Good night."

She turned to leave just as a hand grabbed her wrist.

"Wait!" he begged. "You must not leave me, my darling."

Georgiana gaped. "Do not call me that. Unhand me at once, or else––"

The Viscount had the gall to smirk. "Or what?"

"Or I'll do it for you."

They froze as Owen appeared, though Georgiana had no idea where he had been. She didn't even know how long he had been there.

But it hardly mattered. A moment later, her hand was free and down at her side. She stared at her husband in bewilderment.

Owen nodded, his expression strained, gesturing for her to go back inside. "Why don't you return to the ballroom, my dear? I find I need to speak with Lord Hornstooth, privately. I shall join you in a moment."

"I… yes. Yes, of course," Georgiana stammered out, and then bolted back inside.