She looked up. Lord Altons expression was sympathetic. He nodded encouragingly. Drawing a deep breath, she continued. I returned to England immediately. Ididnt wish to remain in Italy. On my arrival at Hartley Place, I learnt that my uncle had died a month or so before my father. My cousin Charles owns the Place now. Georgiana hesitated.
Im slightly acquainted with Charles Hartley, if thats any help. I might add that I would not consider him a fit person for a young lady such as yourself to share a roof with.
His cool, impersonal tone brought a blush to Georgianas cheek.
Seeing it, Dominic knew he had struck close to the truth.
Keeping her eyes fixed on the empty fireplace, Georgiana struggled on. Im afraidthat is to say, Charles seems to have developed a fixation. In short, she continued, desperation lending her words, he has been trying to force me to marry him. I left the house this morning, very early.
She glanced up and, to her surprise, found no difficulty in meeting his lordships blue gaze. Ive no one in England I can turn to, my lord. I was hoping to ask your wife for advice as to what I should do.
Dominics gaze rested on the heart-shaped face and large honey-gold eyes turned so trustingly towards him. For some perverse reason, he knew he was going to help her. Ignoring the inner voice which whispered he was mad even to contemplate such a thing, he asked, Have you any particular course of action in mind?
Well, I did think of going to London. I thought perhaps I could become a companion to some lady.
Dominic forcibly repressed a shudder. Such a glorious creature would have no luck in finding that sort of employment. She was flexing her fingers, her attention momentarily distracted. His eyes slid gently over her figure. The grey dress she wore fitted well, outlining a pair of enticingly sweet breasts, young and firm and high. Her skin was perfectpeaches and cream. As she was seated, he had no way of judging her legs, although, by the evidence of her slender feet, he suspected they would prove to be long and slim. Her waist was hidden by the fall of her dress, but the swell of her hips was unmistakable. If Georgiana Hartley became stranded in London, he could guess where shed end. Which, all things considered, would be a great shame. Her candid gaze returned to his face.
I have my own maid and coachman. I thought that might help.
Help? A companion with her own maid and coachman? Dominic managed to keep his face impassive. There was no point in telling her how ludicrous her ideas were, for she wasnt going to hire out as a companion. Not if he had anything to say in the matter. The wretched life most paid companions led, neither servant nor family, stranded in limbo between stairs, was not for Miss Hartley.
I will have to think of whats best to be done. Instant solutions are likely to come unstuck. Ive always found it much more useful to consider carefully before committing any irrevocable act.
Listen to yourself! screamed his inner voice.
Dominic smiled sweetly. I suggest you spend an hour or so with my housekeeper, while I consider the alternatives. The smile broadened. Believe me, there are alternatives.
Georgiana blinked. She wasnt sure what to make of that. She hoped she hadnt jumped from the frying-pan into the fire. But he was turning her over to the care of his housekeeper, which hardly fitted with the image revolving in her mind. There was another problem. Charles might follow me.
I can assure you this is one place Charles will never look. And I doubt hed pursue you to London. Youre perfectly safe here. Dominic turned and tugged the bell-pull. Then he swung back to face Georgiana and smiled reassuringly. Charles and I dont exactly get on, you see.
A pause ensued. While Miss Hartley studied her hands, Dominic studied Miss Hartley. She was a sweetly turned piece, but too gentle and demure for his taste. A damsel in distressDuckett had been right there. Clearly, it behoved him to help her. The cost would be negligible; it would hardly take up much of his time and might even afford him some amusement. Aside from anything else, it would presumably annoy Charles Hartley, and that was a good enough reason in itself. He determinedly quashed his inner voice, that advocate of self-protection at all costs, and returned to his agreeable contemplation of Miss Hartley.
The door opened, and Georgiana came slowly to her feet.
My lord?
Dominic turned. Duckett, please ask Mrs Landy to attend us.
Yes, mlord. Duckett bowed himself from the room, a smile of quiet satisfaction on his face.
AFTER A PLEASANT and reassuring hour spent with Mrs Landy, Georgiana was conducted back to the drawing-room. The motherly housekeeper had been shocked to learn of Georgianas plight and even more moved when she discovered she had missed her breakfast. Now, fortified with muffins and jam and steaming coffee, and having been assured her two servants had been similarly supplied, Georgiana faced the prospect of her interview with Lord Alton with renewed confidence. No gentleman who possessed a housekeeper like Mrs Landy could be a villain.
She smiled sweetly at the butler, who seemed much less intimidating now, and passed through the door he held open for her. Lord Alton was standing by the fireplace. He looked up as she entered, and smiled. Georgiana was struck anew by his handsomeness and the subtle aura of a deeper attractiveness that owed nothing to his elegant attire, but derived more from the quality of his smile and the lights that danced in those wonderful eyes.
He inclined his head politely in response to her curtsy and, still smiling, waved her to the wing-chair. Georgiana seated herself and settled her skirts, thankful she had this morning donned one of her more modish gowns, a grey kerseymere with a fine white linen fichu, edged with expensive Italian lace. Comfortable, she raised expectant eyes to his lordships dark-browed face.
For a full minute, he seemed to be looking at her and thinking of something else. Then, abruptly, he cleared his throat.
How old are you, Miss Hartley?
Georgiana answered readily, assuming him to be considering what employment might best suit her years. Eighteen, my lord.
Eighteen. Good. He was thirty-two. She was too young, thank God. It must just be his gentlemanly instincts that were driving him to help her. At thirty-two, one was surely beyond the stage of lusting after schoolroom chits. Dominic smiled his practised smile.
In light of your years, I think youll find it will take some time to discover a suitable position. Such opportunities dont grow on trees, you know. He kept his manner determinedly avuncular. Ive been thinking of what lady of my acquaintance would be most useful in helping you. My sister, Lady Winsmere, is often telling me she pines for distraction. That, at least, was the truth. If he knew Bella, she would leap at the opportunity for untold distraction that he intended to offer her in the charming person of Miss Georgiana Hartley.
Georgiana watched Lord Altons face intently. Thus far, his measured statements made perfect sense, but his patronising tone niggled. She was hardly a child.
I have written a letter to her, Dominic continued, pausing to draw a folded parchment from his coat, in which Ive explained your predicament. His lips involuntarily twitched as he imagined what Bella would make of his disclosures. I suggest you take it and deliver it in person to Lady Winsmere in Green Street. He smiled into Miss Hartleys warmed honey eyes. Bella, despite her occasional flights of fancy, is quite remarkably sane and will know precisely how you should go on. Ive asked her to supervise you in your search for employment, for you will be sadly out of touch with the way things are done. You may place complete confidence in her judgement.
Relief swept over Georgiana. She rose and took the letter. Holding it carefully, she studied the strong black script boldly inscribed across the parchment. Her fingers moved across the thick, finely textured paper. She felt oddly reassured, as if a confidence placed had proved to be well founded. After her problems with Charles, the world seemed to be righting itself. My lord, I dont know how to thank you. Youve been more help than I expected, certainly more than I deserve. Her soft voice sounded so small in that elegant room. She raised her eyes to his, smiling in sincere gratitude.
Unaccountably irritated, Dominic waved one fine hand dismissively. It was nothing, I assure you. Its entirely my pleasure to be able to help you. Now one more point. He hurried on, strangely unwilling to bear more of Miss Hartleys gratitude. It seems to me that if Charles is out there scouting about hell be looking for your carriage, with your coachman atop. Ive therefore given orders for you to be conveyed to London in one of my carriages, together with your maid. One of my coachmen will drive you and will return with the carriage. After a few days, when Charles has given up, your coachman will follow you with your coach. I trust such an arrangement is satisfactory?
Georgiana felt slightly stunned. He seemed to have thought of everything. Efficiently, smoothly, in just one short hour he had cleared the obstacles from her path and made all seem easy. My lord, you overwhelm me. But surelyyou might need your carriage?
I assure you my carriage will bebetter used conveying you to London than it otherwise would be, Dominic responded suavely, only just managing to avoid a more subtly flattering selection of words. God! Dealing with an innocent was trying his wits. A long time had passed since he had engaged in social discourse with a virtuous young lady of only eighteen summers. It was too abominably easy to slip into the more sophisticated and seductive modes of conversation he used almost exclusively to females these days. Which, he ruefully reminded himself, was a definite reflection on the types of ladies whose company he currently kept.
With another dazzling smile, Georgiana Hartley inclined her head in acceptance. At his intimation, she fell into step beside him, gliding towards the door on tiny, grey-slippered feet.
Still bemused, and with the feeling that events were suddenly moving rather faster than she could cope with, Georgiana could nevertheless find no fault with his arrangements.
Duckett met them in the hall with the information that the coach stood ready.
Dominic could not resist offering her his arm. With gentlemanly courtesy he conducted her to the coach, pausing while she exchanged farewells with Ben, surprising everyone, Ben included, by breaking off her words to give him a quick hug. Then Dominic handed her into the luxuriously appointed coach, wherein her maid was already installed, and stood back. Duckett shut the door firmly. The coachman, Jiggs, gave the horses the office. The coach pulled smoothly away.
Dominic Ridgeley stood on the steps of his manor house, his hands sunk in his pockets, and watched his coach roll out of sight. Then, when he could no longer see the swaying carriage roof, he turned to go inside, pausing to kick at a piece of gravel inadvertently, inexcusably resident on the steps. With a sigh and a pensive smile, as if some pleasant interlude had come to its inevitable conclusion, he went inside and shut the door.
Chapter Two
NIGHT had descended by the time Lord Altons travelling carriage drew to a halt on the cobbles before the elegant town house of Lord and Lady Winsmere. Georgiana glanced up at the tiers of lamplit windows reaching high above the street. Beside her, Cruickshank sat silent, her lips set in a severe line. The groom swung down and trotted up the steps to jangle the doorbell before returning to help them to the pavement.
A portly butler appeared. One glance at the grooms livery was apparently enough to effect instant entrance for Georgiana and Cruickshank.
Georgiana allowed the butler to remove her pelisse. Then she turned and, in a voice tinged with nervousness, said, I wish to speak with Lady Winsmere, if you please. I have a letter of introduction from Lord Alton.
Despite the butlers gracious bow and solemn face, Georgiana was instantly aware of his avid interest.
I will convey your letter to Lady Winsmere, miss. If you would care to wait in the drawing-room?
Shown into a reception-room of pleasing proportions, Georgiana stopped and blinked. The door shut behind her. Cruickshank had dutifully remained in the hall. Georgiana scanned the room, then, finding nothing of greater moment to consider, gave her attention to a careful appraisal of the white and gilt décor. The room was well stocked with furniture, and every available flat surface sprouted at least one ornament. The rule seemed to be that if it wasnt white it had to be gilded. Not even the ornate cornices had escaped. The effect was overpowering. With a sigh and a shrug for English fashions, Georgiana chose a stiff-backed, spindlelegged chair, heavily gilded and upholstered in white damask, and gingerly sat down.
Her gaze roamed the walls once more, but there was no Fragonard to provide distraction.
She folded her hands in her lap and tried to subdue the uncomfortable feeling of encroaching upon those whom she had no right to call on. But Lord Alton had seemed unperturbed by her request for help. Maybe, despite her misgivings, there was nothing so very peculiar about her predicament. At least, not to an English mind. Determined to be optimstic, she endeavoured to compose herself to meet Lady Winsmeres questions. Doubtless, she would have a good few. What was she making of her brothers letter?
Only then did Georgiana realise she had no idea in what light Lord Alton had presented her to his sister. The thick parchment had been fixed with a heavy lump of red wax, on which the seal of the Viscounts Alton had been imprinted. Georgiana frowned. A wave of tiredness rose up to envelop her. Not for the first time since leaving the comfort of Candlewick Hall, she wondered at the wisdom of her actions. She was too impulsive. Often she had landed herself in the suds by rushing headlong on her fatewitness her flight from Ravello. But it was too late to draw back now. She grimaced. The more she thought of it, the more clearly she perceived her inability to influence the course of events Lord Alton had charted for her. These, presumably, would determine her immediate future. Somehow she had placed herself in Lord Altons hands.
Georgiana stifled a despondent sigh. She hoped she looked more confident than she felt.
On the floor above, Bella, Lady Winsmere, was in the middle of her toilette, preparatory to attending the theatre. A knock on the door of her boudoir was followed by a whispered conference between her dresser, Hills, and her butler, Johnson.
Distracted from the delicate task of improving on nature, Bella frowned. What is it, Hills?
Her black-garbed dresser produced a folded parchment, inscribed to herself in her brothers unmistakable scrawl. Intrigued, Bella immediately laid down her haresfoot. Bits of red wax scattered in all directions as she broke open the seal.
Five short minutes later, she was crossing her front hall in a froth of lacy peignoir, rendered barely respectable by a silk wrapper. Johnson, having anticipated her impetuous descent, stood ready to open the drawing-room door for her.
As the door shut, bringing her guest to her feet, Bellas bright blue eyes, very like her brothers, surveyed her unexpected visitor.