Miss in a Man's World (17 page)

‘Quite understandable! Well, Digby, you might be pleased to hear that your mistress and I have become betrothed. Which means, of course, that I am in a position to take much of the responsibility for her care off your hands.'

Digby's expression of unholy relief was almost
comic. ‘Oh, I can't tell you what a great weight that is off my mind! Begging your lordship's pardon, but the young mistress can champ at the bit at times. She may look the image of 'er dear ma, but there's a look in those eyes of 'ers, when 'er mind's set on something, that's the dead spit of Colonel Grey. She's 'er father's daughter right enough.'

His lordship smiled softly. ‘Yes, I suppose you are one of the few who would know that for sure.' He returned his thoughts to the present, and went across to the door. ‘I have one or two other errands to run before evening, so I must not tarry. I dare say we shall consult again in a day or two.'

 

As it was the first time the Viscount had visited that specific gaming establishment since his arrival in town, his appearance was greeted with an element of surprise. Lord Rupert raised one hand in an airy salute, while his companion merely nodded in acknowledgement, as Lord Fincham approached the table. Of the third suspect there was no sign, and so his lordship began by discovering where Sir Willoughby was hiding himself.

‘Oh, come now, Fincham!' Lord Chard slanted a mocking glance in his lordship's direction as the Viscount joined them at the table. ‘You should know our pernickety baronet better than that. He only needs to develop a slight temperature to be convinced he's dying. He probably sneezed earlier in the day and took to his bed. Never known a fellow for cosseting himself so much!'

This was true enough, his lordship silently acknowledged. Sir Willoughby hardly seemed the sort to embroil himself in anything so sordid as robbery with violence. On the other hand, Sir Willoughby, for all
his pernickety ways, was as sharp as a tack, and more than capable of organising the acquiring and disposal of precious jewels, without being directly involved in the thefts himself. No, he silently acknowledged, Sir Willoughby could not be ruled out quite yet.

And, indeed, neither could either of the other two. He cast a glance at both gentlemen in turn. Just like Sir Willoughby, either was capable of running the show, as it were. But which of the three was pitiless enough to condone cold-blooded murder in order to attain his ends? One of them assuredly was.

‘We haven't seen much of you this Season, Fincham?' Lord Chard remarked, dealing his lordship into the next game. ‘You weren't particularly late arriving in town. Any reason for your unsociability? You haven't taken exception to something one of us has done or said?'

His lordship smiled grimly. ‘Now, what could you possibly have done, Chard, that would give me an aversion to your society, I wonder?'

Their eyes met briefly above the cards in their hands, ‘Nothing, I trust.'

‘I've seen him about at one or two events, as it happens,' Lord Rupert disclosed. ‘You were at m'brother's do t'other night, weren't you, Finch, though you didn't stay long? Looked for you myself, and was told you'd already left.'

‘Well, yes, there was someone I wished to see,' he freely admitted, signalling to a waiter to bring a bottle and glass. ‘And I haven't been deliberately avoiding anyone. It's merely that my attention has been totally focused elsewhere. You see, gentlemen, I have decided upon the lady whom I shall take to wife.'

‘Well, upon my soul!' Lord Rupert was the first to
voice his surprise. ‘I thought you, like myself, were destined to remain a bachelor. Many congratulations, old fellow! Who's the lucky girl?'

‘Miss Georgiana Grey, daughter of the late Colonel George Grey.'

‘Wait a moment! I've met her, haven't I? Isn't she old Grenville's goddaughter. Well, I say goddaughter. I've heard—' Sir Rupert stopped short when he saw the menacing flicker in the Viscount's eyes. ‘Ah, well, yes, shouldn't pay too much attention to rumours. Ravishing girl, Fincham! Smitten myself, I might tell you.'

‘Have I met her, Fincham?' Chard asked, after the waiter had deposited the bottle and glass down on the table and had moved away.

His lordship checked before reaching for the wine and then filling their glasses. ‘I cannot recall seeing you at any of the parties she's attended, although there haven't been that many, I must confess. The Dowager Countess lacks the vitality she once had and has been most selective since her arrival in town, but I shall expect my fiancée to attend far more in future.' Again he looked from one to the other. ‘I trust you will both do us the honour of attending our select little party to celebrate the event in a couple of weeks? But in the meantime, until it is officially announced, I trust I might rely on your discretion in keeping the news to yourselves.'

 

His companions might well have done so, but that didn't stop a deal of interest being shown the following afternoon when he took Georgiana to the park in his open carriage. He deliberately chose the fashionable hour and so wasn't unduly surprised by the evident curiosity they aroused. What did irk him, and what he
considered a confounded intrusion into his privacy, was the fact that the Dowager Countess had insisted on Georgiana being accompanied by a young maid.

He tolerated it for so long, and then could bear it no longer, and tapped Perkins on the shoulder with a walking stick, requesting him to stop. ‘We'll stroll for a while, my darling,' he told Georgiana, jumping swiftly out and helping her to alight. ‘No, you may stay where you are and enjoy the ride,' he added, when the maid attempted to follow. ‘As long as Miss Grey remains within your sight, you will have carried out your mistress's instructions to the letter.'

‘You are quite outrageous on occasions,' Georgiana didn't hesitate to tell him, after he had ordered Perkins to move off and remain a short distance ahead. ‘And something of a hypocrite, I might add,' she persisted, when all he did was betray sublime unconcern by tucking her arm through his. ‘You berate me for unconventional behaviour, and yet when I attempt to adhere to codes of conduct, you dismiss them out of hand as unnecessary. I simply cannot win!'

‘There's a difference between propriety and quite unnecessary precautions,' he finally countered. ‘I've never allowed myself to be plagued by duennas, companions or chaperons, and I don't intend starting now, especially not with you. Haven't I always done whatever was necessary to protect your reputation?'

He looked down with a smile that instantly softened the harsh lines of his face to such an extent that one society matron passing by in her carriage was later heard to say that she could hardly believe it was Fincham she saw, so tender was his expression.

‘You and I were able to enjoy, for a short time at least, an easy camaraderie that very few in our positions
are ever privileged to experience. It wasn't without its disquieting moments, I'll admit, but on the whole I look back on that time we shared with a certain…fondness.'

‘And I with a deal of satisfaction,' she admitted, after studying his immaculate attire. ‘Not only was I successful in discovering what I dearly wished to know, but also I succeeded in persuading you to alter your mode of dress.'

Had it not been for the betraying twitch at the corner of his mouth, she might have believed him when he said haughtily, ‘I shall take leave to inform you that no one has ever succeeded in influencing my judgement or behaviour, especially not some impertinent young page.' She chose, however, not to pursue the matter and changed the subject by attempting to satisfy her curiosity on one point at least.

‘I knew almost from the first,' he willingly revealed, ‘at least I suspected. And I was firmly convinced of your true sex long before we had arrived in London.'

‘And still you engaged me as your page.' She was unable to keep the note of censure out of her voice. ‘And you call my behaviour disgraceful!'

He laughed outright at this, drawing even more attention to them. ‘I cannot deny it was somewhat unusual, but you had aroused my curiosity by then, child. Besides, I just couldn't deposit you and leave you, a mere fledgling, to avoid the capital's many pitfalls.'

The conversation was evoking too many poignant memories for her peace of mind, so Georgiana decided to change the subject before sentiment induced her to reveal more than was wise.

‘No, I haven't discovered a great deal,' he responded in answer to the question. ‘I managed to run both Chard and Gyles to earth at the gaming house, but Trent wasn't
there. Whoever is behind it all isn't stupid. He'll not be easily unearthed. He's too careful by half. You must be patient, my darling.'

The glance she cast up at him held more than just a hint of disquiet. ‘Sir, it is good of you to assist the Dowager and me in our endeavours, and I don't want you to imagine that I'm not immensely grateful. All the same, I cannot help but own to a feeling of guilty unease for involving you in this matter. I know you and my godfather were not close companions. You've admitted as much. But I've gained the impression that you are perhaps friendlier with those other three, therefore I cannot imagine you'd attain much satisfaction from bringing the guilty one to justice.'

‘I shouldn't gain any,' he freely admitted. ‘And you're quite right in your assumption—I have socialised more with them than I ever did with your godfather.' He shrugged. ‘I suppose that's because they're nearer to me in age, and therefore we have more in common. But don't run away with the idea that I'm bosom-friends with any one of them, because I'm not. We socialise only during the Season. We never meet at any other time.'

‘Yes, but—'

‘No buts,' he interrupted. ‘My mind is made up. Besides, this state of affairs cannot be allowed to continue. The next robbery to take place just might involve one of my own relations, or a close friend. Then I would very much regret not bringing the guilty party to book.'

No sooner had he spoken than he was acknowledged by none other than the sister-in-law of one of the suspects, out taking the air with her daughter in an open carriage, which instantly turned Georgiana's thoughts
in a new direction by reminding her of what she had been obliged to forgo earlier that week.

‘What was it like, Ben…the Mertons' ball, I mean?' she didn't hesitate to ask him. ‘Was it as splendid as last year's? I shall never forget that ballroom—all sparkling light and fragrant flowers.'

Although well pleased at her use of his given name, he couldn't work up much enthusiasm for the topic of conversation. After so many Seasons in town he could only assume he had grown inured to these grand affairs, as they no longer impressed him. ‘Well, I wasn't there for long, and didn't pay too much attention,' he re sponded, having difficulty in summoning up an image of the room when last he saw it.

‘Oh, but surely you must have noticed the decoration,' she persisted, determined to have her curiosity satisfied. ‘Last year her Grace decorated the walls with artistic swathes of apricot and cream silk to match her daughter's gown. Very clever, I thought.'

‘Oh, God, yes, now I recall!' He clapped a hand over his eyes as though to obliterate the image his mind's eye was conjuring up. ‘This year it was worse. The chit was wearing primrose. Nauseating colour! I felt quite bilious and was glad to leave.'

She strongly suspected he was exaggerating. All the same, she couldn't suppress a gurgle of mirth, which resulted in several other passers-by glancing curiously in their direction.

‘Mind you, it's a timely reminder,' the Viscount continued, betraying a deal more interest now. ‘I'm not having the reception rooms at Berkeley Square resembling a confounded haberdasher's window! You can have as many flowers as you want—cartloads of 'em for all I care. But no swathes of silk, for pity's
sake, especially not matching the colour gown you'll be wearing for our betrothal party.'

‘But you don't know what I shall choose to wear. I haven't decided myself yet,' she pointed out.

‘Ah, but I have,' he astounded her by revealing. ‘It wasn't too difficult a matter to discover where you'd had other dresses made. I merely visited the same modiste and asked her to make you a further evening gown. She was more than willing to oblige me when she realised it was for the divine Miss Grey, whose slender form so perfectly displayed her creations.'

Georgiana didn't know whether to feel flattered by this unexpected show of interest, or downright annoyed over his interference. She at once appreciated, though, that a crowded park was hardly the ideal place to point out that it had been a bit of a liberty on his part to decide what she should wear to the party—fake engagement though it was!—and so decided to accept the unexpected gift with a good grace.

‘And that reminds me of something else I wished to say to you,' he went on, thereby denying her the opportunity to voice any gratitude. ‘Tomorrow, our engagement will become common knowledge. If I know anything the door-knocker will never be still, so it's unlikely I shall be granted the opportunity to visit you. And if you take my advice you'll remain indoors yourself, or risk being pestered to death by the vulgarly curious, who'll all want to get a look at you. But the following day, I'd like you to visit Berkeley Square. We must start organising this confounded party of ours. I'll send the carriage for you. Bring that manservant of yours along. He'll be chaperon enough for the journey. Besides, I want to have a word with him.'

‘Yes, of course, I'll come,' she responded, slightly
disappointed not to be seeing him again until then, but perfectly understanding the reason why not. Something else then occurred to her. ‘It will be interesting to visit the house again, if only to see the servants' reactions.' She smiled wistfully. ‘I wonder how many of them will recognise me?'