A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (41 page)

Then the bird lowered its head, seized an olive branch off the ground in its beak, and straightened as it spread its wings to reveal words picked out in gold underneath.

Peace.
Paix.

Everyone applauded, including Georgia, for it was prettily done.

Then Madame Cornelys announced that Signora Terletti would sing a new song in praise of peace composed by Mr. Clemson. As the lady swept toward the dais, Georgia happily went down, Lord Rothgar at her side.

They listened to a blessedly short song and applauded the performance. People then dispersed—to refreshments, cards, or dancing, or to simply sitting in various small rooms, many talking politics.

Lord Rothgar smiled at her. “You’re correct about the feathers, Lady Maybury, though real ones do tend to fall apart in time, whereas silver and mother-of-pearl should last longer than any peace ever has.”

“An interesting dilemma, my lord. Perfection in the moment, or compromise and long delight.”

“Repeated in much of life. Welcome back to Town, Perriam. I thank you for your efforts on behalf of my wife.”

Georgia looked between them. Perry and Diana Rothgar?

“I also saw benefit to my friend Malzard, my lord.”

“How blessed we are to gain numerous benefits from one act. Speaking of which, I’d be obliged if you’d wait on me tomorrow.”

Perry bowed. “Your servant, sir.”

Rothgar bowed in return and moved away.

“What was that about?” Georgia demanded.

“Diana Rothgar was visiting her northern estates, her baby with her, when the infant started a tooth. I rescued her from an inn in York and took her, her entourage, and her howling, drooling monster to Keynings, the Earl of Malzard’s place. My dear sister, that journey was a noble sacrifice.”

“And the benefit to Malzard?”

“His wife needed a cloak of approval. I’ll tell the whole story later.”

“I may get it from her—Diana Rothgar, I mean. She and I are acquainted.”

“Oh, yes, Danae House. Ask her about the pageantry in Darlington.”

“Do they have pageantry in Darlington, wherever that is?”

“
Ignorance is never a matter for pride, Sister.”

“A convert to the wonders of the north, are you?”

“It was a pleasant diversion.”

“But now you’re back where you belong. Why are you summoned to Malloren House?”

“For my sins, I’m sure. After my exertions in the north I deserve delightful idleness, but it seems Rothgar seeks to employ me, and I’m sure Father has demands. And here you are, not as happily situated as I’d like.”

“I thought you lived a life of leisure.”

“I may not toil at the routine work of my sinecures, but I’ve been given them so I can toil in other areas. I’ll always be at your service, however.”

She put a hand on his arm. “I know you will. It’s such a comfort to have you back. I do need to talk to you, Perry, privately. There are so many things.…”

“So it would seem. Send to tell me a good time tomorrow.”

Which would be after tonight.

“What’s amiss?” he asked, and she quickly smiled.

“Nothing but my scandal.”

“Come and dance your worries away.”

As they went that way she said, “If anything could, it would be a dance with you. Though Lord Dracy is almost as fine a dancer.”

“Is he?” Perry asked.

“I was surprised too, but apparently a life in the navy includes time ashore, sometimes in elegant surroundings. Sometimes with fine ladies.”

She did not want to think of his fine ladies.

“He tells you of his adventures?”

“We converse easily, on many subjects,” she said as they took their places. “Ah, there he is in the ugly robe. He looked better as Neptune, but he’s freed himself of most of the costume.”

“I heard he was disfigured.”

“
The mask hides it. It’s not so terrible when one gets used to it.”

“Is it not?” Perry said, looking at her. “I rejoice for him.”

The dance began, and Georgia stepped out lightly, feeling almost carefree at last. Perry was back. He was master of Town and court intrigue and had always been her best adviser and friend. He’d soon smooth out everything.

A good thing he didn’t know about the wager and tryst, however, or he’d sort that out too.

Dracy watched Georgia, though he made sure not to insult his partner by it. He’d worried when she’d been summoned to a leading role in the demonstration of the dove, but he should have known that was Lady May’s milieu.

He’d been jealous of the Dionysus she’d greeted with such joy. Merely a brother, he’d learned—the fribblous Peregrine Perriam, come as the god of drink and mayhem, but able to make her happy, damn him.

He saw a family resemblance, even though Perriam had brown hair and clean-cut features. It was in the eyes, perhaps, and in expressions and gestures.

Dracy made himself look away and relax. Georgia would be safe with her brother, perhaps safer than she was under his protection. Perriam must understand the choppy waters of the beau monde far better than he. But, he suddenly wondered, would the brother’s arrival interfere with their nighttime tryst?

That would not be allowed.

Chapter 24

T
he clocks were striking two when Georgia left Carlisle House accompanied by Dracy, Perry, and Jane. Her parents had returned home earlier and were probably already in bed.

All the better, as long as Perry didn’t take the notion of coming with her to Hernescroft House to talk about her problems instead of returning to his own rooms. If he suggested that, she’d protest that she was too tired. In truth, she was wound up like that silver dove of peace, as if she could spring into action at a touch.

It was all so ridiculously dangerous, and she was trying to be sensible and good.…

She could claim that as they’d both won, neither had, and therefore neither owed a debt.

The carriage stopped by the building where Perry had rooms, and he climbed out, saying his good nights. One problem averted, but they’d soon be home, where she’d have to make her decision. She was sure Dracy was looking at her, but she concentrated on the darkness outside.

“We’re here.”

The carriage had stopped. He climbed out first, then assisted her and Jane to alight.

A footman knocked at the door, which opened, and they were home. Her august ancestors looked down in
the candlelit gloom, and it was as if they all frowned at her.

“Good night, Dracy,” she said, calling the wager off.

“Good night, Lady Maybury,” he said, accepting her unspoken decree.

There, and it was better so, she told herself as she went up to her room.

Jane assisted her out of the gown and stays.

“What shall I do with the gown, milady? There’s not too much to it without the head.”

“Put it away somewhere. It might form the base of another. But remind me never to assume the guise of a bird again.”

“Very well, milady, but why?”

“I don’t like to be predictable. Bring my washing water and then get to your bed. I’m sure you’re as tired as I am.”

“You’ve powder in your hair, milady.”

“And there it will stay until morning. But I will need a bath then.”

“Very well, milady.” Jane curtsied and left, and Georgia turned to the mirror.

How oddly pale she was, in her white shift and powdered hair, loose and tangled. Her scarlet lips did look grotesque. She tried to rub away the rouge with her shift, but a stain remained.

Soiled dove.

Scarlet woman.

Where was Dracy now?

Jane returned with a jug of steaming water and poured some into the basin. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you need, milady?”

“Nothing. Good night, Jane.”

Jane curtsied and left and Georgia knew she’d have no more interruptions unless she sought them.

Her white linen nightgown was spread on the bed with the green silk robe beside it.

She draped the nightgown over the screen around her washstand and went behind to take off her shift and wash. Even when alone, that was her habit, a habit she’d been trained in from infancy. She even bathed in a shift, in a tub with curtains modestly gathered around.

How could she ever have imagined standing naked in front of Dracy?

But she had imagined it, and him undressed as well.…

She washed, whirled in confusion. She could keep to her room and keep safe, but Perry was back and soon Dracy would be free to return to Devon. She might never have such an opportunity again.

She dried herself and put on the nightgown, but she didn’t go to bed. She paced. Why was it so
hard
to be sensible and virtuous? All she had to do was get into bed and stay there. She knew Dracy wouldn’t invade.

She picked up the robe from the bed to put it on a chair.

But why? She already knew she was going to do it.

Her nightgown. It dated from before Dickon’s death. Had she worn it for him?

No. It was a plain one, and she’d always worn finer ones when he’d told her he’d visit her bed. As on that last night…

She buried that memory.

Tonight would be sinful, but it wouldn’t be adulterous. Neither she nor Dracy were committed to another. All the same, she wished she’d purchased new nightgowns. The plain ones she had were in excellent condition, so it would have been an extravagance, but she’d never considered such things in the past.

Would Dracy really ask her to strip naked for him?

Could she do it?

How strange that she could mingle with hundreds in a costume that gave the illusion of bare breasts but faltered at the prospect of exposing them to one person.

* * *

The footman brought Dracy hot water. He would have assisted him, but Dracy sent him away, only asking him to first bring port. He stripped off the classical robe and raised his hands to untie the mask. Then he paused to consider his appearance.

He’d been a handsome boy, youth, and man and given no thought to it apart from appreciating that it provided a choice of lovers. He hadn’t grieved the loss of his good looks for long, especially when he’d found it didn’t limit his choices. But when he’d put on this mask, he’d been reminded of what had been.

He’d minded then.

Because of Georgia Maybury.

He took off the mask, then turned from the mirror to wash, scrubbing the remains of the glue off his face. With so many obstacles in his way, it was madness to think his disfigurement important, but he wished it gone.

He was still naked when the footman brought the port, but it was Jem, who thought nothing of it.

“Are your wounds healing well, milord?”

“Yes, thank you. I’ve always healed well. Good night.”

Jem left and Dracy poured himself some wine.

Beauty and the beast. If he succeeded in winning her, that would be how many would see them.

The ticking clock seemed to mark time slowly. Had it been as long as he thought? Would she come?

He shouldn’t be waiting for her naked. He reached for his robe but then went to drawer to take out another. A gift from a high-born merchant’s wife in Batavia, and of Chinese make. Red silk embroidered with a black dragon. As beautiful and impractical as Georgia’s finest gown.

He put it on, fastening the long line of tasseled buttons at the front. If she came, if she asked him to undress, he could make something of the process. Laughing at himself, he sat in the armchair facing the door, the one she’d sat in a few nights ago, in fine white linen and pale green silk.