Miss in a Man's World (10 page)

Studying his master closely, Brindle watched an almost frozen expression grip those strong features, before the slightly swarthy complexion turned ashen. He had seen his master suffer adversity in the past—the return from France, when he had discovered the girl he had wished to marry had wed another, and when he had learned of his brother's tragic death a matter of a
few weeks later. But never before could Brindle recall seeing such a look of desolation in those dark eyes when his lordship finally raised his head and stared at the wall opposite.

Yet, within a matter of seconds his expression had changed, and dark eyes, with a fierce intensity in their depths, turned to the butler again. ‘When did Georgie return to the house?'

‘I'm not altogether sure, my lord. It was during the time you were with your steward. Maybe one o'clock, or soon afterwards. The maid took luncheon up to the room and said the page was engaged in writing a letter even then. When the servant went up a short while ago, the tray, empty, was still there, but the…girl was not.'

Consumed with anxiety though he was, his lordship was quick to note what his trusty servant had finally revealed. ‘Do the other servants know her true sex?'

‘Not to my knowledge, my lord, no. I thought you preferred it remain that way.'

‘Thank you, Brindle,' he acknowledged with real gratitude. ‘And for the time being, in order to protect her, I should prefer if it continues to remain that way.'

He went over to the window, his stride purposeful. ‘Make a thorough search of the house again, from attic to cellar. If she is not found, then send out orders that every able-bodied man on the estate is to begin searching for…for Fincham's page. She may have several hours' start, but there is just the chance that someone, somewhere in the locale, saw her.'

Raising his dark eyes, he scanned the acres of parkland. ‘She must be found, Brindle. I shall never rest until I've found her.'

‘C
hild, it was madness, unutterable madness!' the Dowager Countess of Grenville declared, clearly agitated. ‘When I asked you to look into this matter of my son's death on my behalf, I knew you could be taking grave risks. That is why I wished you to remain as the guest of Lady Pickering for a few weeks in order to minimise the dangers. But when I agreed to grant you free rein in the venture, I never for one moment supposed you would embark on something so outrageous!'

Miss Georgiana Grey, far from chastened by the reproof, smiled fondly at the elderly lady seated on the opposite side of the hearth. She had been travelling for the best part of four days, and by various means, in an attempt to frustrate pursuit. She believed she had succeeded in all her endeavours during the past weeks, and was therefore far too smugly satisfied with the success of the undertaking to be even remotely subdued by the formidable matron's condemnation of her actions.

‘Ma'am, if I had gone about things your way and
stayed with your friend in London, I would have discovered little or nothing to the purpose. I know what would have happened—I would have been taken to a few discreet parties, where only genteel conversation prevailed. What good would that have done, pray? No, I had, somehow, to gain entrée into a man's world, come face to face with those acquaintances of my godfather's, and venture into those places he frequented. I could never have done so had I stayed with Lady Pickering.'

‘But, child, anything might have happened to you.'

At this Georgiana was unable to suppress a tender little smile. ‘I'll admit I had no very real idea of what I was going to do when I reached the capital. I thought, perhaps, to rent furnished rooms somewhere for a few weeks in the hope of making the acquaintance of some personable young gentleman about town who was abreast of all the gossip, and who might have taken me under his wing, as it were. It was just a marvellous stroke of good fortune that I crossed Lord Fincham's path that day at Deerhampton.'

‘Fortunate…?' The Dowager raised her eyes towards the heavens, as though seeking divine guidance. ‘You place yourself in the power of one of the most notorious rakes in England, and you call it luck!'

Georgiana's amusement at the Dowager's outrage died in an instant, and she stared gravely across at the lady whom she had always held in high regard. ‘Ma'am, much of what is said about Viscount Fincham, in my opinion, is conjecture, based on nothing more than scurrilous gossip circulated by those who ought to know better. He keeps a mistress, it is true.' She shrugged, attempting to appear indifferent to the fact. ‘But then, what wealthy bachelor does not?'

‘That is true enough, I suppose,' the Dowager
acknowledged fair-mindedly. ‘We must just give thanks to the Good Lord that Fincham never discovered your true sex.'

‘I rather fancy he did know, ma'am,' Georgiana didn't hesitate to enlightened her. ‘In fact, I'm certain of it!'

‘Then it's a wonder you retained your virtue that first night under his roof!' the Dowager retorted.

A rather embarrassing memory, quite unbidden, returned to add extra colour to delicate cheeks. ‘Apart from—er—just one occasion, he behaved towards me with the utmost propriety, much better than I deserved, considering I attempted to conceal so much from him. He was kindness itself for the most part and treated me like…well, I can only describe it as some troublesome younger sibling.'

The Dowager shook her head, seemingly having difficulty in coming to terms with what she was being told. Then she said, ‘But, child, what on earth possessed you to remain under his roof when you discovered he was none other than one of those who could well be responsible for your godfather's death?'

Yes, why had she? Rising to her feet, Georgiana went across to the window, and stared down absently at the traffic making its way along the fashionable Bath Street. Had she even then, after having known him for so short a time, already fallen victim to a sardonic gentleman's irresistible charm? She had finally been obliged to acknowledge her feelings after spending that unforgettable morning with him by the trout stream. Had the truth been known, that was the reason why she had taken darling Ronan out for that last walk. She had been determined to acknowledge both the depth of her
feelings and the course of action she must take in order to conceal them.

She couldn't suppress a wry smile. Perhaps it had been Providence that had decreed she should come upon the daughters of Lord Fincham's nearest neighbour that day. At least the incident in the home wood had given her the excuse she needed to flee Fincham Park and its all-too-captivating master. She might not have left that enchanting ancestral mansion heart-whole, but at least she had possessed strength of character enough not to allow that most tender of organs to rule her head. She could only pray that same fortitude would see her through what was likely to be very desolate times ahead.

‘Because by that time, in my heart of hearts, ma'am, I knew he could never be involved,' she at last revealed. ‘I'm not so foolish as to suppose that one wouldn't glimpse a darker side to his nature if one was ever imprudent enough to cross him. That said, he is an honourable man and one who would never lend himself to such a dastardly venture as committing murder for financial gain.' She shrugged. ‘Besides, he has absolutely no reason to do so. He's a wealthy man, remember?'

The Dowager acknowledged this as well. ‘But do not forget, child, there is, I believe I'm right in saying, a reckless streak in his nature. I believe also that he too has been known to wager large sums on games of chance. Furthermore, it is common knowledge that he went over to France at the height of the Terror in order to rescue someone or other. Which goes to prove, does it not, that he's quite willing to take grave risks?'

Although she felt obliged to agree with this, Georgiana genuinely believed they should concentrate on
the other three, and didn't hesitate to say so. ‘What do you know of them, ma'am?'

‘Very little, I'm afraid. I know of them, naturally. Sir Willoughby Trent is little more than a middle-aged fribble, who has a penchant for collecting items of great beauty. I believe he did marry some years ago, but I have no knowledge of what became of his wife, or whether or not she is still alive. Lord Rupert Gyles is a renowned gamester and a bachelor, and dependent on his brother, for the most part, for his livelihood. And as for Chard—he married a wealthy cit's daughter some half a dozen or so years ago and is able to maintain a fine country property in Kent. I dare say my good friend Lady Pickering will be able to furnish me with more up-to-date snippets about them all when I remove to the capital in the spring.'

‘You've decided on a Season in town, then, ma'am?' Georgiana enquired, thinking a second sojourn in the capital might prove invaluable in discovering more about the three suspects.

‘Certainly. I must honour my obligations where my grand children are concerned. Richard, thankfully, will remain safely at Eton for a further year, before going on to Oxford. And Sophia, now, is quite looking forward to the prospect of a London Season. These past weeks in Bath have done us both the world of good, even though we have socialised very little. By next April, of course, our year of mourning will be at an end.' Raising her head, she stared fixedly at the slender figure by the window. ‘Life goes on Georgiana. I lost a son and you a very loving godfather. But we cannot mourn for ever. My only fear is that Fincham, no fool, will more than likely recognise you.'

‘What has that to say to anything, ma'am?' Genu
inely bewildered, Georgiana returned to her seat by the hearth. ‘Comfortably circumstanced though I am, I couldn't possibly afford to move in his exalted circles. Our paths are never likely to cross again.'

‘I'm afraid they are,' the Dowager countered. ‘I have not mentioned this before, because I knew you were far too upset by your godfather's tragic death to consider any form of enjoyment. But the fact is, my dear child, he made further provisions for you in his will. He set money aside so that you might enjoy a Season in town, and also provided you with a dowry. It is nothing when compared to Sophia's, of course, but it is not to be sneezed at.'

Dark blue eyes misted over with unshed tears. ‘He did that for me?'

‘He loved you, child. He could not have loved you more had you been his own flesh and blood.' The Dowager opened her mouth as though to utter something further, and then, seemingly, thought better of it and shook her head gravely, before adding a moment later, ‘He wanted you to have the opportunity of meeting some fine young gentleman. It was his dearest wish that you should accompany Sophia for the whole Season. You would disappoint her hugely if you refuse. She looks upon you as a sister, as you well know.'

‘Then, of course, I shall be only too happy to bear her company, ma'am,' Georgiana assured her. ‘Besides, it will offer me the golden opportunity to find out more about those three suspects.'

‘Absolutely not!' The determination in the elderly lady's voice was unmistakable. ‘You have done more than enough. I shall pass on what you've discovered to Bow Street.'

‘Engaging the services of the Runners at this stage
might be a grave mistake,' Georgiana countered, never having been afraid to speak her mind in front of the formidable Dowager. ‘After all, the last thing we want is to alert any one of them to the fact that he is a possible suspect. No, I think you should wait until we've managed to uncover more…have definite proof of the identity of the one responsible.'

‘If you imagine I shall countenance your further involvement in this matter, after what you have revealed today, you may think again, child! You've already risked your life, not to mention your reputation.'

‘I wasn't thinking of involving myself again at this juncture, ma'am. I was thinking, rather, of engaging my darling Digby's help. If I hadn't been such a complete idiot, I would have taken him with me, not left him kicking his heels back home in Gloucestershire. As things turned out he would have been invaluable.'

‘Your manservant, child…?' The Dowager was clearly perplexed. ‘But what possible use could he have been?'

‘He was born and bred in the capital, ma'am,' Georgiana reminded her. ‘He spent the first eighteen years of his life there, striving to keep alive in the most lawless areas of the city. He was conscripted into the army, after being convicted of stealing. It was either that, or Newgate and possibly the hangman's rope.'

‘Heavens above!' the Dowager murmured faintly. ‘What on earth possessed your late grandfather to employ such a fellow?'

‘You know why, ma'am,' Georgiana responded, amused by this show of staunch disapproval, for she well knew that little shocked the Dowager nowadays. ‘He was with Papa in America. He took it upon himself to return several of my father's possessions personally.
Grandpapa was so moved by the unselfish gesture that he instantly offered him employment at the vicarage. Digby has never been in any trouble since. Besides which, he is touchingly devoted to me.'

‘That is true enough,' the Dowager conceded. ‘But what on earth do you imagine he could do? He hasn't been back to London in over twenty years.'

‘I know that, ma'am. But I'm sure if he did go back it wouldn't take him long to familiarise himself with his old haunts. He might even be lucky enough to meet up with one or two acquaintances of bygone years.'

‘Pray continue, child,' her ladyship prompted, when Georgiana, in a brown study, stared silently down at the empty hearth. ‘You are beginning to interest me vastly.'

‘Whoever stole the Grenville diamonds had to dispose of them somehow. No reputable jeweller in the capital would have touched them. The set was too well known, too easily recognised. Which leaves us with two distinct possibilities—either they were passed on to some disreputable dealer in stolen goods who possibly had the stones made up in a different setting or they were smuggled abroad.'

The Dowager appeared to consider. ‘Yes,' she finally agreed, ‘I believe you may have hit upon something there, my dear. So what do you propose we should do?'

‘Continue to leave the authorities out of it, at least for the time being. When we return to Gloucestershire at the end of the week, I shall take Digby into my confidence. Then, if he thinks he might be of help, we'll dispatch him off to London as soon as maybe.' Georgiana again considered for a moment, before adding, ‘Of course, the majority of the ton has left the capital for the country. But I discovered, only a few days ago, that
Lady Smethurst's famous pearls were purloined whilst she was travelling the King's highway. Fortunately no one was hurt that time. Evidently, unlike the late Earl, no one travelling in the carriage put up any form of resistance. Perhaps Digby can discover something about the pearls—what may have become of them. He'll need to remain in the capital for some weeks, because I'd rather like him there when the Little Season begins in the autumn, especially if he has managed to uncover something of interest, and the suspects happen to have returned.'

‘In that case send him to me and I shall ensure he has sufficient funds before he leaves.' The Dowager leaned back in her chair, at last appearing reasonably well pleased; until, that is, a deep frown added further lines to her forehead. ‘That only leaves me with you to consider,' she added, fixing her gaze on the short, silky black locks. ‘Your poor hair will have grown, of course, by the spring. But will that be enough?'

‘Do not concern yourself, dear ma'am,' Georgiana responded, easily following the Dowager's train of thought. ‘By springtime most people will have forgotten that Fincham ever had a page… Only the Viscount himself might possibly have remembered…and he, I feel certain, will never betray me.'

‘I sincerely hope your evident high opinion of him is not misplaced, child.'