A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (47 page)

“But how could she have the letter? I would have sworn it didn’t exist. The dowager would have nailed it to a church door if she’d had it.”

Dracy took the letter from his pocket and passed it over. “I think it’s a forgery.”

Perriam read it through. “Almost certainly. I doubt Vance could write such sound sentences, and he had no reason to spew those lies.” He considered the front. “Addressed to Major Jellicoe, his second. A plausible recipient.” He produced a small magnifying glass and studied the address and other marks. “Yes, I think you’re right, Dracy, though I’ll have an expert opinion. I’d lay fifty that stamp from Cologne is painted on.”

A very interesting gentleman, the Honorable Peregrine Perriam. Not as shallow as he seemed, and not a man he’d choose as an enemy.

“Who could have forged it?” Georgia asked. “Who hates me so much?”

Dracy shared his suspicion. “Sellerby.”

“Sellerby!” Georgia exclaimed.

“Sellerby?” Perriam asked. “The man doesn’t hate Georgia. He’s mad with love. And he was her staunchest supporter when the dowager first spoke of such a letter.”

“I found it as hard to believe as you,” Dracy said, “and for the same reasons, but he sought me out a few days ago when word of our supposed betrothal first leaked out. He was anxious to advise me of how absurd a notion that was, even that it might be a revenge by the Perriam family for my victory in the horse race.”

The two Perriams were staring at him as if doubting his sanity.

“When talk turned to Georgia’s choice of husband, he commented that with the reviving scandal she might have little choice. There was something in his manner. The smugness of having a secret and of being sure of winning in the end.”

“You have to be mistaken,” Georgia said.

Her brother added, “He wants to marry Georgie, so why cover her with scandal?

“I know, I know, but at least consider how it might
have been. Sellerby was one of your constant admirers, Georgia, during your marriage. Perhaps even a friend?”

“Yes. I enjoyed his company, and he was often my chosen escort to some sorts of affairs.”

“To you he was only a friend, but he fell in love with you. That was no matter until you become a widow. Then he has unexpected hope of happiness. He waits patiently for a year.”

“Not so patiently,” she said. “He wrote a correct letter of condolence, but then a few weeks later another to, he said, raise my spirits. It was all Town froth! When he wrote again, I had both returned with a note to say I was not corresponding with gentlemen.”

“Perfectly correct, and a blow, but if you were not corresponding with any gentlemen, he was willing to wait. But then things changed.”

“No,” Georgia said. “I won’t hear any more of this. He’s become odd, but what you’re suggesting would be vicious!”

Perriam took her hand. “I want to hear him out.” His expression was unreadable.

“Consider the dinner after the race at Herne. Sellerby was there, but am I correct that he’s not a racing man?”

“Not at all,” Georgia said. “He’s not much fond of riding, but then, neither am I.”

“Nor I,” Dracy said. “Not a skill that gets much practice in the navy. I thought his country wear a trifle underused. He turned up to woo you.”

“Before your mourning year was over,” Perriam said. “Did he?”

“I’m not sure,” Georgia said. “I’ve never thought of him in that way.”

Dracy felt a trace of pity. “Your sister didn’t give him the attention he expected, Perriam. She was warm and, yes, friendly, but nothing more. At the same time, she had dukes pressing for her attention and was dancing dutiful attendance on me.”

Perriam raised a brow.

“All to do with Fancy Free,” Georgia told him. “An irrelevance here, except that Dracy’s right. Sellerby probably did expect more from me.”

“Did he write after that?”

“Yes, twice, and becoming a little silly.”

“He waits impatiently for your mourning to end, for you to return south, into his orbit. You don’t return to Town—a disappointment, I’m sure—but there’s to be a ball. His milieu par excellence.”

“He came out to Thretford to inquire about his invitation,” Georgia said. “I’d thrown his away.” She grimaced at them. “I shouldn’t have been so unkind, but I knew he’d press his suit.”

“I wonder if he suspected anything,” Dracy said. “I doubt it. He’s the sort of man to be able to overlook evidence that doesn’t fit his case. He arrives at Thretford intent upon courtship, but there’s the Duke of Beaufort again, getting in his way, and other gentlemen of some eligibility. What’s needed is to revive the scandal.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Perriam said. “If he made sure Eloisa received the letter, he brought it with him. In fact, prepared it well ahead of time. That forgery is professional work.”

“I bow to your knowledge, sir.”

“See!” Georgia exclaimed. “It’s nonsense.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve considered that aspect. He saw the danger at Herne—that you still had eminent suitors—and commissions the letter in case of need. At any time, he can fan the fire to flame again and scare your other suitors away, leaving him as your sole support.”

“Except that I then had you,” Georgia said.

“So you had,” Dracy said. “Even as future husband, if rumor was to be believed. I became his bête noir. He said as much to me in our conversation, but he wouldn’t be aware of any special connection early in the ball.”

“
But where does Eloisa come into this?” Georgia asked.

“They went into dinner together at Herne, I believe.”

Georgia groaned. “I did my little best to throw them together, intending a kindness to both. I believe I mentioned her favorably in a letter to him.”

“Salt in his wounds,” her brother said. “I wonder if he has come to hate you as much as he adores you. He’d have Eloisa’s measure quickly, for she’s shallow as a plate. She couldn’t resist hissing jealous spite to me, even. By the way, you dye your hair and use belladonna in your eyes.” He turned to Dracy. “You lay out a plausible thread, but you’ve no evidence.”

“I know it. But someone forged that letter, carried it to the ball, and then used it to turn most of the guests, and especially the suitors, away from your sister. Who else?”

“Was it very bad?” Perriam asked Georgia.

“Horrible. If Dracy hadn’t been there…” She sent him a look that sparked hope but looked away in a manner to dowse it. “Thank heavens he took the letter from Eloisa. When our parents refused to invite her to Town, she might have been furious enough to send it to someone who would publish it.”

“Then she may have sent you that picture,” Perriam said.

“Oh, no,” Georgia said, looking close to tears again. “It’s not all her fault, Perry. She too was immured at Herne, and whilst I could escape Millicent, she couldn’t. Millicent is convinced I haven’t suffered a fraction of what I should for bringing such shame on the family.”

Perriam whistled. “What are the odds that
Millicent
sent that picture to her sister with encouragement to use it? I wouldn’t put it past our dear sister-in-law to have hoarded that drawing for a year.”

“Lud! Eloisa writes bitter complaints to Millicent, not mentioning her malice, but dwelling on my shamelessness
and cruelty. Millicent sends back a weapon. Not to increase my scandal, for she truly does feel it stains the family, but to wound me.”

“A delightful family, the Perriams,” her brother said to Dracy. “Sure you want to join it?”

“Yes,” Dracy said before he had time to think. He looked at Georgia. “But I promise not to be a Sellerby about it. Speaking of whom, if I’m right, he’s struck once and could try again. How do we stop him?”

“Wait!” Georgia said. “Could Millicent have sent that letter to Eloisa?”

Dracy considered, but Perriam said, “Won’t work. She wouldn’t know how to find a forger, especially around Herne. And if she was going to send it to Eloisa, it would be through the post, not during the ball. You’d rather it be her than Sellerby?”

“Yes,” she said sadly. “I’m accustomed to Millicent’s dislike, but Sellerby? I truly thought we were friends, in the past, at least.”

Perriam patted her hand and rose. “I’ll go in search of the forger. We aren’t looking to prosecute, so I might get the right person to talk. Confronted with a witness, Sellerby will be defanged. He’ll do anything to avoid becoming a scandal himself.” He kissed his sister’s cheek. “Courage, my dear.”

Chapter 29

G
eorgia smiled after Perry, comforted by his being back to help her, but troubled by that brief exchange. The words echoed in her mind.

A delightful family, the Perriams. Sure you want to join it?

Yes.

She knew Dracy would never harass her as Sellerby had, but she couldn’t bear to break his heart. She should never have allowed last night.

“More tea?” she asked.

“No, thank you. We have another day to explore Town, if you’re free of appointments?”

She looked at him, torn between exasperation and tenderness. Of a certainty, he was no Sellerby. “I’m entirely free, except from guilt. I’ve created a madman.”

“Nonsense. The rest of the men in England have managed not to tip into insanity over you.”

She chuckled at that but had to ask, “Including you?”

“Perhaps the jury’s out on that,” he said, but so lightly she couldn’t persist. “Where shall we go? What about the menagerie at the Tower?”

His lightness was not froth but steel, a mesh of it, protecting her. He couldn’t protect her from everything, however, and for his sake, he must not try. After seeing
that cartoon, she wanted to hide away, but as Perry had said, it was new only to her. The streets would be no more hostile today than yesterday, and she must walk them for the rest of her life.

“Very well,” she said, “but I must change.”

“You wore that yesterday.”

“It’s a rag,” she said, deliberately adding, “and Lady May must dress in finery.” But then she halted by the door. “I’ve given Jane the day off.”

“I’m sure there are other maids,” he said. “Or if necessary, I know how to fasten a lady’s stay laces.”

She stared at him, remembering too many things, and even thinking, shockingly, that if they went to her room they might be able to adventure in the day.

“I’ll make do as I am with hat and gloves. I doubt we’ll meet anyone we know on a visit to the Tower.”

They didn’t, which, as far as Georgia was concerned, was perfect. They toured the ancient fortress and the menagerie of exotic animals sent to the kings of England as gifts.

“They seem sadly confined,” she said as they left that part of the Tower and walked across the lawn.

“Some of them were born there, it appears, so perhaps they would dislike change. As, you claim, Fancy Free would dislike removal to Dracy.”

“Dracy is inferior to Herne,” she pointed out. “That race seems so long ago. How goes the substitution? I haven’t noticed you or Father discussing it.”

“We’re awaiting developments,” he said, but she could tell there was something amiss.

“Is he not being fair? I’ll speak to him about it.”

“No, his offer is more than fair.”

“Then why do you not take it?”

His lips twitched. “Perhaps because it would end your application in the cause.”

“What?” She laughed. “I’ve given no thought to that in days.”

“Good.”
He looked at the large piece of wood, darker in the middle. “The headsman’s block, where so many paid with their lives.”

“I’ve recently felt for Anne Boleyn,” she said.

“Why?”

“She was unjustly treated, perhaps because she fascinated men, frightening them and upsetting the women. Then her son was stillborn. I know how a twist in life can have drastic consequences. At least I can’t lose my head over any of my troubles.”