An Elegant Façade (Hawthorne House Book #2) (21 page)

Georgina sucked her breath in. This was not the fun story she was expecting. “And Ryland was there?”

Colin nodded. “He was . . . one of the traders. But not really. He was trying to get information. Some of the slaves had come from one of Napoleon’s palaces. They already had a plan in place to try to get the slaves free, but it wasn’t foolproof, and I’d managed to make the gun men angry.”

“Ryland saved your life?”

“At the possible expense of his own, yes. It was close. Ryland and another spy were shot, but the slaves scattered across the port. I hope they managed to find work or make their way home. Spain was no longer safe for Ryland and his cohorts. So I smuggled them onto my ship in packing crates. I spent the trip back to England slipping them food and medical supplies. I’ve never been so scared. The captain barely tolerated having me on board. I didn’t know what he’d do if he found stowaways.”

This incident, the way he talked about it, was about much more than meeting Ryland. It had changed something in him. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he’d been living in London since it occurred. Georgina’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Have you been home since?”

His gaze snapped to meet hers, and his response was immediate. “Have you considered telling your family?”

“There you are!” Trent burst through the trees and wrapped Georgina in his arms. “I’ve been so worried. I started to go back in the house three times, but I don’t have Colin’s bag of tricks and there were no open doors or windows. The place is locked up tight.”

Colin clapped Trent on the shoulder. “We had to go the long way around. Lord Howard is out searching for Lady Jane. I was a bit worried he would have found you.”

Trent shook his head. “He tore down the main drive on a horse a while ago and took the road toward the village. He must think Lady Jane headed there to find assistance.”

Georgina glanced around but saw no one besides the three of them. “Where is Jane?”

Trent gestured toward the trees behind him. “Sleeping in the carriage.”

Colin filled Trent in on the basics of their adventure, leaving out a few details such as their encounter with the wall. Georgina didn’t correct him.

They reached the carriage, and she climbed in to arrange herself on the seat next to her friend while Trent and Colin saw to waking the coachman and helping him reharness the horses.

In minutes they were barreling back down the road toward London. With every mile, she made the conscious effort to pull her mind away from the man sitting across the carriage. Their walk through the garden had been the most relaxing, enjoyable time she’d had in years. It was a luxury she couldn’t afford, though, because it had also been the most frightening. Colin couldn’t keep her safe. Colin couldn’t make people overlook her eccentricities. Colin wasn’t the man she needed.

Georgina avoided his gaze as the conversation faltered. Trent’s snores were soon mingling with Jane’s heavy breathing, leaving Georgina alone with Colin, but not as alone as they’d been mere hours earlier. The urge she felt to continue their game scared her. The questions had been venturing into things so personal she didn’t even talk about them with Harriette, and yet . . .

These urges were dangerous. Too dangerous to toy with anymore. It was time for Colin to stop being Colin.

They pulled up to a modest town home a few streets over from St. James’s Square. What were they doing here? The door swung open and Colin rose from his seat. He lived here? Not in rented rooms or a hotel, but in a terraced house? Would she ever cease being surprised by what she learned about him?

He caught her eye before he stepped down from the carriage. The first rays of the rising sun hit his face through the open door. “Good morning, Georgina.”

She swallowed and felt her heart hit her toes. “Good-bye, Mr. McCrae.”

It was a shame, really, that one couldn’t go to the store and buy a play to watch at home like one could purchase a book. Maybe then there wouldn’t be so many conversations about popular books at
ton
gatherings. Georgina could certainly do with a few less of them.

“She was a complete simpleton for holding out on Mr. Collins.” Lady Theodora Clayton stuck her nose in the air, disdain dripping from her voice as if she were talking about a real person.

“Nonsense. What were his lofty connections going to gain her?” Georgina snapped her fan open as she vocalized her opinion. She’d spent most of the day sleeping off her midnight adventures but had woken in time to prepare for tonight’s gathering. Sleeping through the day had kept her from missing Harriette too much, though Margery had told her that Harriette insisted she’d be back in the morning.

Georgina hadn’t really felt up to the effort of a gathering such as this one, but when they’d deposited Jane at her house, she’d begged Georgina to come tonight. Jane had to attend to quell any rumors that might have started from her journey. She insisted she couldn’t face the evening without Georgina.

So here Georgina was, being pulled into a conversation about a popular book. Sweat was beginning to dampen her lower back.

Lady Theodora frowned as she rethought her opinion. “Lady Catherine de Bourgh didn’t seem to move about much, did she?”

“No. Where I believed Lizzie was cork-brained for turning down Mr. Darcy the first time.” Georgina fluttered the fan a little harder as Trent and Colin entered the room well within conversing distance. Did the man always have to look so fresh and rested after driving across the country all night?

She would ignore them. Maybe they wouldn’t come greet her. She and Colin—Mr. McCrae—had to become nothing more than nodding acquaintances again. She devoted herself back to the conversation. “He was of considerable better society than she. Refusing his offer was unthinkable.”

Jane sighed, a dreamy look on her face as she stared off at nothing. “But what about love?”

Georgina scoffed to hide her inner cringe. Only people without flaws and secrets could afford to hold out for love. And for Jane to be simpering over the feeling less than a day after it nearly ruined her was enough to make Georgina declare the entire emotion absurd. “What of it? Consider how much time you’ll spend with your husband versus the amount of time you’ll spend doing other things related to your station in life.”

Jane’s fan fell limp as her eyes widened. “I never thought about that.”

Given her ridiculous notion to run off with Lord Howard, Jane’s lack of thought was more than obvious. Georgina bit her tongue to keep the retort inside. Lady Jane was personable and beautiful enough to provide competition if she ever set her mind to it. Her general empty-headedness wouldn’t deter anyone.

Many might think it an asset. She’d be able to have children, run the house, and attend social gatherings without putting too many demands on her husband.

She could even handle her own correspondence.

The unfairness of it all made beads of perspiration break out on Georgina’s chest and neck. She flicked her fan a bit faster. Why was it so infernally hot in this room?

Lady Theodora looked around the room at the conversing groups of London’s elite. “Perhaps I should rethink some things.”
Her eyes lit on the two men talking quietly to the right of the trio of ladies. She pitched her voice a little louder. “Good evening, Lord Trent and um . . . Good evening.”

Trent and Mr. McCrae turned to the ladies, smiles at the ready. Trent bowed and greeted the group.

Georgina wanted to smack the coquettish smiles off of her companions’ faces. She supposed Trent was a worthy suitor, even as a second son. But he was also her brother and had taken to spending entirely too much time with the man who could ruin her life. She refused to think kindly of him at the moment.

Trent gave Georgina a hard look, reminding her of her manners. One more sin to lay at Mr. McCrae’s door. Georgina hadn’t forgotten a social nicety since she was seven years old. “May I present Mr. McCrae? Mr. McCrae, this is Lady Jane and Lady Theodora.”

Bows and pleasantries were exchanged, while Jane’s blush grew brighter and brighter. She was trying to pretend she hadn’t met Mr. McCrae on the road back to London, but she wasn’t doing a cracking good job of it.

Mr. McCrae, however, performed admirably. As much as Georgina would like to think him self-centered enough to have forgotten Lady Jane, she had to admit he was just being nice.

“We were discussing the romantic tale of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy.” Lady Theodora tilted her head to look up at Trent through her lashes. “Have you by chance read the book, my lord?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure, but I’ve noticed both my sisters carrying it around.” Trent looked around the little group. “Is it one you’d recommend?”

Jane and Lady Theodora set themselves on either side of Trent, forcing Mr. McCrae to step back or be trampled. He moved around the circle to Georgina’s side.

Watching her friends simper over her brother was unbearable, particularly when they simpered about a book. It wasn’t because she thought Trent didn’t deserve it but because it left her with no way to maneuver the situation. She was left powerless on the fringe.

It felt eerily foretelling.

Her fan churned the air around her, making her ringlets flutter. She forced herself to slow the flicking to a respectable, sedate speed. She couldn’t let everyone know she was flustered.

“There are quite a few people on the terrace this evening,” Mr. McCrae said, leaning in so the words went to her ears only. “Would you like for me to escort you?”

“No.” She bit her lip at the lie.

Lady Jane edged closer to Trent, as if he didn’t know she’d tried to run off with Lord Howard. It was almost nauseating.

Georgina snapped her fan closed. “Yes.”

Colin bowed and offered his arm.

In deference to the warm night, their hostess had lit the terrace almost as well as the drawing rooms. Several couples mingled on the other side of the thrown-open double doors. It was the perfect place for a semiprivate conversation.

Georgina glanced at Col . . . Mr. McCrae. If only her conversing partner were more advantageous.

“You carry a book around?” Mr. McCrae leaned on the stone balustrade in a circle of light.

The shifting shadows from the lantern flame licked at the red tinges in his brown hair. She shouldn’t notice. She told herself not to notice. Finding this man’s hair more compelling than Ashcombe’s brown-on-brown locks wouldn’t help her achieve her goal. “Every young lady keeps a book lying around. You never know when you will need to entertain yourself for a moment of two.”

Mr. McCrae’s eyebrows shot up and a smile tweaked the corner of his lips. “That is true. Most young ladies can find momentary solace within the pages of a novel.” He leaned in a bit, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But not you.”

Georgina twisted her head to look over the terrace, ensuring that no one was close enough to hear his words. “Have a care with your words, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Why didn’t she walk away from him? It wasn’t as if she wanted to be spending time with
him. She should claim a need for refreshment or even a necessary visit to the retiring room. Anything to get away from his side and in the vicinity of someone more suitable. Preferably Ashcombe.

“Why haven’t you told them?” His whisper rolled over her ear, soft as the roses that lent their heavy perfume to the terrace air.

Were they still talking about that? She made herself busy adjusting her glove so she wouldn’t have to look him in the face. If she saw pity, it would kill her. “We already addressed this. I would be the laughingstock of London. I’d be lucky for an offer to run away with Wickham.”

He laughed low and it skittered across her skin and beneath the glove she’d just smoothed. “Hang London. I’m talking about your family. Trent truly believes you’ve read the book.”

“I have read the book.” She finally looked at him to ensure he believed her.

His lifted eyebrow indicated he didn’t.

“Very well, Harriette has read it to me, but that’s as good as reading it myself.”

“Why haven’t you told them?”

The man was like a spinster trying to hold the attention of a third-tier bachelor. Why couldn’t he let her be? “Tell me, Mr. McCrae, what purpose would that serve?”

He blinked, appearing caught off guard for the first time since she’d met him. “They would be able to help you.”

She leaned in, hoping if anyone glanced their way the conversation would appear light and friendly, not serious or personal in any way. “Help me do what?”

If he said they could help her learn to read, she’d risk the scandal and poke him in the eye with her fan right there on the terrace. She’d tried everything over the years from smuggling in instruction primers to having Harriette write words in gigantic letters. Nothing had made reading any easier. Eventually she’d managed deciphering a line or two in a printed book, but it had taken her hours.

Only slightly better would be the idea that they could assist her in making an advantageous marriage. Didn’t he know any overt
efforts on their part would make her look desperate and cause everyone to wonder what was wrong with her?

He shifted his weight, doing his part to appear a man compelled to escort her outside. Maybe it wasn’t an act. What if he had only brought her outside because he felt it his gentlemanly duty?

“They could help you be yourself.”

It was Georgina’s turn to blink, to reveal the shock she couldn’t contain. Of all the things he wished her to do, be herself was the last thing she expected. No one expected you to be yourself in London. They wanted perfection, the epitome of a lady. “Colin, I—”

“Ah, Lady Georgina, I was wondering if you intended to grace us with your presence this evening.”

Colin held her gaze for but a moment more before acknowledging the man behind her. “Lord Ashcombe, good evening.”

“Mr. McCrae.” The unspoken question was written all over his face. He wanted to know what she was doing on the terrace with someone of so little consequence.

“Mr. McCrae was kind enough to escort me out here when Trent became an overwhelming center of attention.” She cast the earl her most flirtatious smile. If the loosening of his own smile was an indication, he swallowed the bait like a trout in her brother’s fishing stream. “Having an eligible brother can be quite tiresome.”

“Perhaps we could find some more pleasant company? There has been talk of starting up dancing in the drawing room.” He offered his arm.

Georgina laid her hand on it. “That sounds delightful, Lord Ashcombe.” Part of her wanted to stay on the terrace with Colin, and she wondered at that. Wasn’t Ashcombe her goal? Her options were running out. She couldn’t afford to lose this one.

She cast a glance over her shoulder as she re-entered the house. Why did it feel like Colin was the actual loss?

He told himself to look out at the garden, at the other couples on the terrace, his shoes, anything really besides the white swish
of Georgina’s skirt as she entered the house. It didn’t work. His gaze stuck to her until she disappeared. Only then did he turn to look over the garden, his lips pressed into a grim line. Had he truly thought things would be different now? He’d come to this party particularly to see her, had maneuvered Trent into bringing him since Colin hadn’t actually been invited. And for what? Another cold brush-off from the Ice Queen?

After everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, Colin had thought it would be different. Thought she would be different. He liked the girl who had dropped everything to save her friend, manipulating her brothers and even himself into preventing a young woman’s ruin. He’d been impressed by the Georgina who had hidden behind a chaise lounge, climbed down a rope made of trousers, and been daring enough to bare her own secrets to learn a few of his.

If he didn’t know better, he would be convinced that there were actually two women of like name and appearance, switching places at will for the express purpose of driving him mad.

Colin traced Georgina’s path into the drawing room. He should leave. One of the cardinal rules of a man on the fringe of high society was that he knew how to keep his place. Draw too much attention to yourself and they were likely to cut you off. Attending parties you weren’t invited to was a very good way to collect attention.

She was dancing with Ashcombe. She was smiling her perfect smile, the one Colin hated, the one she used to keep anyone from getting close enough to discover her secret. The dancers went in a circle, and Ashcombe’s appreciation of the smile was evident. He was enjoying being the focus of the prettiest girl in the room, the one everyone said would make the match of the year. At least they had before Miranda’s marriage to Ryland had hit the papers.

“Save me.”

Colin turned to find Trent, wild-eyed and panicked. “From what?”

Trent’s gaze darted around the room. “Whom.”