A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (19 page)

“My stars! Is that two o’clock? I only have another hour before returning to the boat!”

“Then we must make haste.” He grabbed her hand and set off at a run.

Georgia shrieked, but then she hauled up her skirts and ran with him, laughing at the childish absurdity of it.

Abruptly she hauled back. “Stop, stop. I insist!”

He obeyed. “What’s amiss?”

Georgia fussed with her skirt. “One does not run in the park.”

“Not even when in a hurry? Ah, I see. We’re observed and disapproved of. But you are veiled.”

“So I am.” She looked at Bella Tresham and stuck out her tongue. “Come. We still must make haste. I wish to have time to look over the dolls.”

“Dolls?” he said. “You are quite young, but…”

“Fashion dolls,” she said, hurrying out of the park. “Do you know nothing?”

“About such things, less than nothing.” Dracy tossed a coin to the lad who’d swept dung off the road for them. As they crossed, he said, “Explain fashion dolls.”

“A mantua maker can’t make up gowns to show to her customers—that would be too costly—so she dresses dolls. There are illustrations, but nothing shows a style so well as a doll. They can be sent into the country too, so that distant ladies can see the latest styles.”

“You played with these dolls at Herne?”

“Cease your provocation, sir. I didn’t request any. It would have cast me into the Slough of Despond to think of fashion when I had no need of it. But now I must catch up. Here we are.”

She’d stopped at a two-story, double-fronted house
where one window displayed a gown and some trailing bolts of cloth.

“A mantua maker,” he said. “My naval friends would never believe it.”

“New experiences broaden the mind. If you promise to be good, I’ll ask Mary to send out for some ale for you as you wait.”

He raised her gloved hand to his lips. “Thank you, Georgia. Then I promise to be very, very good.”

That really shouldn’t have caused a panicked flutter in her heart. But it did.

Chapter 11

G
eorgia became so lost in fabrics and patterns that Dracy had to insist she leave, because her mother would be waiting. She pouted at him, and then regretted it a little. But what right had he to disapprove of her?

She traveled back to the stairs in a hired chair, reading one of the two magazines she’d borrowed. She must remember to arrange a regular delivery.

Her mother was already in the barge and glaring, but Georgia didn’t care. For the first time since Dickon’s death she had felt free, free to come and go and to choose her amusements.

Before she boarded the barge, she paused to thank Dracy. “You’ve been the perfect escort, my lord.”

In some way he had. In particular, he’d helped drive some of the ghosts and fears away.

“I’m at your service as long as I’m in Town,
Lady Maybury.”

“Easy enough to say when I’ll be in Hammersmith.”

“But I’ll join you there at the ball.”

“I look forward to seeing you in full finery.”

“Do get in,” her mother said. “We must be off.”

Georgia turned and entered the barge with the assistance of a footman.

“You will be at hand to serve as escort and adviser, Lady Maybury?” Dracy said. When she hesitated, he added, “After all, we have a bargain.”

He was challenging her, and belatedly she remembered other aspects of today. A run through the park. A kiss.

“Fancy must certainly be free,” she said lightly and settled on the seat beside her mother. “I will do my duty.”

The boatmen were casting off when she remembered something. “Dracy! Do you know how to dance?”

He sent her a crooked grin. “Have no fear, I can execute a hornpipe with the best.” As the barge pushed off into the river and the men began to row, he linked his arms and executed a few nimble steps.

Georgia stared, muttering, “Hornpipe…”

“I’m sure he knows the rudiments of other steps, child,” her mother said, giving her an arch look. “You seem on good terms with Lord Dracy.”

“I did my duty, Mother, and was as pleasant as I know how whilst providing him with adequate clothing. I wish I’d remembered dancing, though.”

“He’s not at the antipodes. Write a letter recommending a good dancing master. Pargeter’s provided?”

“Yes, though I wasn’t allowed to explore. I saw a suit of Ashart’s there. I remember thinking at the time that it was too dark a blue for him.”

“You can’t have spent the whole time on that,” her mother said.

Georgia resented being interrogated, but there’d be no point in rebellion. “We strolled in Green Park for a while and then he accompanied me to my mantua maker. He was very obliging.”

“And his disfigurement? You seemed at ease with him.”

“I don’t mind it at all,” Georgia said, determined that that be so. “Do you know that he’s an only child, Mother, and now an orphan? I wonder what family he has.”

“Very little, I think. Both Cedric Dracy’s parents were dead, and he too was an only child.”

“Lud, it’s
a dismal family pattern. Poor constitutions?”

“Cedric Dracy’s parents were drowned crossing from Holland some years ago. Eight, perhaps. The sinking of the
Brightly Bess
was much talked about.”

“What of the current Lord Dracy’s parents?”

“Perhaps some naval incident. You must ask him.”

“No, no, it was only idle curiosity. Do political matters go well, Mother?”

“It seems the nonsense is coming to an end. Perhaps Winifred’s ball will be an opportunity to settle matters. Most fortuitous that your return to society provides the excuse.”

“I’m honored to be of use.”

If her mother caught the dryness, she ignored it.

Why, she wondered, was the queen so powerful in chess when women had so little power in the world? Georgia suspected that her mother was more politically astute than her father, but she could have any effect only through him.

Georgia remembered the few occasions when she’d felt strongly about some issue and persuaded Dickon to go to Parliament to cast his vote. If she’d been able to go, she might have made a speech on the subject. She could probably have swayed the house through charm if not by eloquence.

Largely out of mischief, Georgia asked, “Do you think women will ever be able to take seats in Parliament?”

“Take seats?” her mother exclaimed. “Stand in elections? Completely improper, and men would never vote for a woman.”

“If women had a vote…”

“Enough of such foolishness, Georgia. Women have enough to do with their homes and children. Men have more time on their hands for things like speeches and negotiations. Though they can’t always be relied upon to use good sense.”

Georgia bit back a laugh, sure that was the explanation for the amount of time her mother spent on her father’s politics. This was an interesting discussion, however.

“What of the situation of Lady Rothgar?” she asked. “She’s also Countess of Arradale in her own right, and the earldom of Arradale has a seat in the House of Lords. She maintains that she should be able to take it, and I can’t see why not.”

“Lady Rothgar has a great many odd notions. Feeding her baby with her own milk whilst continuing with all her activities. Writing to the newspapers on legal matters.”

“But why is it odd to want her seat in Parliament? She’s not allowed to send a deputy, so the earldom is deprived of influence.”

“Which is why titles should always descend in the male line,” her mother said. “Anything else leads to irregularity, and there’s enough of that in the world from other causes. The behavior of the Americans is quite absurd, and if we’re not careful, unnatural women like Lady Rothgar will bring disorder here. Only consider: she has traveled north to deal with matters on her estates herself at a time when she should be by her husband’s side in Westminster. Why she couldn’t send a deputy there, I have no idea, but to add to it, her babe must go with her. It’s to be hoped it survives.”

Georgia wasn’t sure that hope was sincere. She’d forgotten that Diana Rothgar was a particular irritant to her mother.

She said, “Amen,” and took refuge in her magazine. Her mother opened a book—an account book of some sort. She was probably going over the Hernescroft accounts, just as she herself had gone over the Maybury ones. Left to Dickon, all would have been chaos and senior servants would have been sliding aside funds for their own use. Were all men as lazy about such things?
Were the great estates being held together by women rather than men? Interesting notion. Who was overseeing the books at Dracy?

No, she would not offer to do that for him, though she missed that part of her former life more than she’d realized. There was something satisfying about facts and figures, about putting them in order and good sense. She needed a husband who would allow her that task, but how to find out was a puzzle.

Like Dracy’s name. What could it be that he disliked so much? Moses? Esau?

Boaz? Wasn’t there a saint called Chrysastom, or some such?

Men sometimes took their mother’s surname. Blatherwick? Peabody? Pickle?

“Did you cough?” he mother asked.

“No, Mother,” Georgia said, biting her lip.

She couldn’t wait to share her suggestions with Dracy when they met at the ball.

Georgia was inspecting Winnie’s collection of bowls and vases when a footman found her. “The Earl of Sellerby has called, milady.”

“Oh, perdition…” Georgia muttered under her breath, but she could hardly refuse to see him when he’d come all the way from Town. She was guiltily aware of the invitation she’d torn up and tossed into Winnie’s “lake.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” Georgia told the footman and hurried to her room to take off her apron and tidy herself. “I wouldn’t put it past him to propose,” she said to Jane. “What am I to do?”

“Reject him, milady?”

Georgia stilled, realizing something. “I’ve never had to reject a suitor before.”

“You only have to say no, milady. Kindly.”

“I suppose so. And perhaps he won’t. He understands
correct behavior, and he would have to apply to Father first. Unless he’s done so. Stars and angels, Father wouldn’t have approved him, would he? Without a word to me?”

“Even if he has, milady, you can still say no.”

“Yes, of course I can. But I don’t…I do hope I can come through all this without having to openly defy my father.”

Jane put a hand on her shoulder. “It won’t come to that, milady. Lord Sellerby is too fine a gentleman to distress you.”

“It distresses me to receive such devotion, especially when I can never reward him as I wish. You will come down with me, Jane. That should give him the hint.”

“Very well, milady, but you favored him for a good two years before Lord Maybury’s death.”

“Are you my conscience now? Desist! I know my faults. But I was married then, so there was nothing to it. He was excellent company at the sort of occasions that Dickon disliked. Performances of ancient music, lectures on art, philosophical soirees…Oh, come. Let’s dispose of him. There’s so much to do.”

Sellerby waited in the small drawing room, and Georgia paused to admire his plain but elegant appearance. Correct in every detail, as he had not quite been at Herne. Gray cloth with chased silver buttons, his dark brown hair neatly dressed, narrow ruffles with just an edge of lace. A ring and a gold pin in his neck cloth.

Perhaps she should reconsider him.

“Sellerby,” she said, offering her hand. “How kind of you to come so far out of Town.”

He took her hand and kissed it. His lips actually touched her skin, which was not quite comme il faut.