An Elegant Façade (Hawthorne House Book #2) (26 page)

She tucked the paper back in her glove and smiled at Jane. “If he wants to speak to me, he shall have to find me. I am not a servant to be summoned. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve promised this next dance to Lord Eversly.”

Jane almost swooned at the mention of the handsome viscount. Georgina left to await her partner, trying her best to push the note from her mind.

Lord Ashcombe whirled Georgina across the floor in her first waltz of the evening. Georgina gave herself over to the music and movement, enjoying the fact that the earl did not speak for the first circle of the dance floor. As they rounded the corner, he broke the silence. “Did you receive my note?”

Georgina’s eyes widened. That was how he chose to open the conversation? No words of how nice it was to see her or how beautiful she looked tonight? She was even wearing her most flattering ball gown. She’d been saving it for when she felt it time to encourage her chosen man to take the next steps. Ashcombe was moving considerably slower than she’d expected him to.

“Yes,” she said carefully. “Your note was delivered.”

He frowned. “And you ignored it?”

Georgina smiled, knowing the things that would be said if anyone noticed both of them frowning at each other. “I am not a
servant to be summoned, my lord.” The line had impressed Jane. Maybe it would have a similar effect on Lord Ashcombe.

“And I am not a man to be ignored.”

Not impressed, then.

The flowing music washed over Georgina as she waited for Lord Ashcombe to continue. It was probably best to wait for him to direct the conversation. He didn’t seem to be in any rush to do so, choosing instead to look out over her head as they continued twirling their way down the floor.

“I have limited time to spend here this evening. My request was reasonable.”

What could she say to that? All she knew was he’d requested she meet him. Had there been anything else in the note of import? She had assumed it was for a private meeting, but what if it wasn’t? A response was required, if the growing irritation in his angry face was any indication. She erred on the side of vagueness. “I have my reputation to consider, my lord.”

His eyebrows rose as he spun Georgina with extra vigor. “Your reputation?”

Georgina swallowed and made an effort to look bored with the entire thing. His reaction meant the meeting location had probably been appropriate, even if his summoning her was not entirely so. Haughty disdain had helped her brazen through more than one difficult situation, though never with as particular a subject matter as this one. One misstep on her part and he would know she hadn’t read his note.

Such inconsideration on her part could have him dropping his courtship of her entirely. The edges of her slight frown trembled. Her eyes burned on the edge of panicked tears. She cleared her throat. Now was not the time to fall apart. She’d stared down governesses in the schoolroom, peers at poetry readings, and more than one hostess who had requested she sing at the pianoforte. Surely she could face down one partially besotted earl. “My lord, this is better than a secluded meeting, is it not? Much better to be seen in the midst of the crush so that everyone knows the man I have a preference for.”

A little bit of a lift to a man’s ego never hurt either.

His eyes narrowed. “I agree. Much better than a clandestine meeting on the terrace.”

So he had requested her to meet him on the terrace.

“As I said, my lord, I have a reputation to consider.”

They danced on in silence for a time, but the enjoyment was gone. To everyone else they looked as graceful as always, but Georgina was well aware of the stiffness in his arms. As the dance drew to a close, Lord Ashcombe bowed over her hand. “Have you the note still?”

“But of course.” They were still talking about that blasted note? Lord Ashcombe was quickly becoming more than she wanted to deal with. Was there someone else—anyone else—who could save her from herself?

“Perhaps you should have taken the time to read it, then.” His gritted teeth made the words tight, but she understood them clearly.

“My lord?” Sweat trickled down Georgina’s back. Noise from the ball swirled around her, filling her ears and making her dizzy. Or was that due to her racing heart?

“May I see the note?”

She pulled it from her glove as they reached the edge of the ballroom. He opened it and extended it back to her.

His eyebrows were arched high, his gaze was hard.

Georgina swallowed and looked at the paper. It could have been the fact that the paper shook slightly in his extended hand, or that panic surged through her chest, or the lighting that was dim enough to cause deep shadows across the earl’s body. It could have been any number of things, but the fact was Georgina couldn’t make out the first thing on the paper. Even the scribblings that she knew made up her name refused to come into any kind of focus.

What was she going to do? She swallowed hard. “I see.”

Only she didn’t see. She didn’t see a thing, and if this conversation continued, Lord Ashcombe would know that something was very, very wrong. She plucked the paper from his fingers, folded it, and slid it back into her glove.

His eyes narrowed further. “You did not care for my request to meet you in the garden?”

Garden?
Hadn’t he said
terrace
a moment ago? Was he actually testing her? Georgina swallowed, darting her eyes sideways to find an escape. She had to reassert her power in this relationship. “The fact remains, my lord, that I do not care to be summoned. Next time I request you take the time to cross the room if you wish to speak with me.”

Mr. Sherbourne crossed the corner of her vision. A pang of guilt struck her even as she opened her mouth. “And there is Mr. Sherbourne.”

The man spun toward her with shock evident on his face.

“So it is.” Lord Ashbourne’s eyes narrowed even further, becoming little more than menacing slits.

“I’ve promised the next dance to him.”

“You have?” both men asked at the same time.

Georgina gave Mr. Sherbourne her best smile. “Of course.”

“Of course. Yes.” Mr. Sherbourne tripped over his feet as he offered Georgina his arm.

Georgina sighed as she escaped to the dance floor. As she curtsied to her partner, she glanced over to the side of the dance floor where Lord Ashcombe still stood, watching her with a thoughtful look on his face.

The dance seemed to go on for hours. As soon as Mr. Sherbourne escorted her to the side, she pled a headache and had Trent take her home. It wasn’t a complete lie. The heavy beating of her heart was sending shooting pains through her head and neck that would soon render her incapacitated with pain.

Georgina couldn’t meet Harriette’s worried eyes as she pulled the gloves free of her hands. Lord Ashcombe’s note fluttered to the carpet.

Harriette picked it up and unfolded it. “What’s this?”

Groaning, Georgina fell back onto the bed, eager to relieve the pressure in her head. “A note from Lord Ashcombe asking me to meet him on the terrace.”

“The terrace?” Harriette’s voice was shaky enough to convince Georgina to pry her eyelids open and look at the maid.

“It’s not?”

Two slow shakes of Harriette’s head sent dread crawling across Georgina’s skin, skittering along her spine until it pooled in her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

Harriette held up the note. “He wanted you to come to the refreshment table.”

How was it that an idea could seem completely wrong a mere two hours after it looked completely right?

Colin ran a hand over his face as he stared into the cup of untouched coffee in front of him. Alastair had asked him to find a manager for his shipping company. This morning Colin had sent him a letter confirming that he would have someone en route to Alastair’s office by the end of next week.

As there were no known prospects for the position other than himself, he’d all but committed himself to returning to Scotland. He hadn’t been able to put that down on paper though. Writing it down felt too much like a contract, an agreement he couldn’t get out of.

But his mind was made up, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to get out of it. Did he?

Colin stifled a groan. Though he was sitting at the back corner table of the coffeehouse, that didn’t mean he couldn’t draw attention to himself with such a guttural sound as he wanted to make. Every emotion a man could feel was coursing through his veins right then. Excitement, relief, worry, fear. All at the mere thought of going home.

How would his father react? His family? The town? Would they
accept his return or see him as the ultimate traitor for betraying his family? Not many people knew about the card game. To them, he’d simply left.

“Could I interest you in a business proposition, Mr. McCrae?”

Perfect. Yes, business was always a good distraction. He looked up and once more fought the urge to sigh. He could do without this interruption. Still, business was business. And even though he was returning to Glasgow, he had no intention of giving up his investments. “I’m always interested, Lord Ashcombe.”

Ashcombe settled into the seat across from Colin. “I believe it will prove very lucrative, but it will require careful management.”

Colin lifted a brow to convey interest without excitement. Whatever his personal issues with the Earl of Ashcombe, the man had made some astute business decisions in the six years he’d been managing his family’s estate. Colin had worked with him more than once in the past, mostly because he never had to work directly with Ashcombe.

The earl had an amazingly capable and personable estate manager who had as much to do with Ashcombe’s success as anything else. Colin even considered the man something of a friend. Despite the fact that they’d only met twice in person, their business correspondence often contained personal elements among the numbers and updates.

“I’ll be looking to expand my operation in Cheshire soon. I have reason to believe the sheep pastures of Crestwood are being underutilized.”

“No doubt they are.” Hairs rose along Colin’s arms, rubbing uncomfortably along his shirt sleeve. Crestwood was one of Riverton’s estates. Their underutilization was at Colin’s instigation. The land’s potential went far beyond what most people thought. Not that Colin was about to share that information with the earl. Instead he tipped his head in a motion to continue.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the funds at the moment to develop appropriately.” The earl cast Colin a cold sideways glance. “An investor or two would be welcome. Discreet ones, of course.”

Colin bit his cheek to refrain from making a derogatory comment about the earl maintaining the social façade of old family money, despite the fact that he’d inherited little but a debt-ridden title and a crumbling estate in Cheshire. He’d done well in the past few years but had spent almost as much as he’d made. Everyone had bought into the illusion of grand success. Even Georgina. “Discretion is the mark of every good business decision.”

The earl’s smile was smug, no doubt thinking he was maneuvering Colin neatly into his plan.

A careful sip of the lukewarm coffee combated the burn of bile in his throat. Was this really what God wanted Colin to do? All the intrigue, whispers, and flimsy images were becoming harder and harder to stay away from. He’d worked his way into the aristocracy in the hopes of being a solid Christian example of a good businessman, but it didn’t seem that anyone was noticing his efforts. Maybe this was God’s confirmation that it was time to leave London.

But he still needed to know if Ashcombe was planning something. Colin was too close to the Hawthorne family to ignore any potential threat.

Ashcombe leaned back in his chair. “I’ve considered setting up a factory. There are good roads running through that land.”

Colin pursed his lips, adopting a confused look. “Don’t those lands belong to Riverton?”

The smile on the earl’s face slid from smug to slimy. “For now.”

Thankfully, surprise was an appropriate response because Colin couldn’t refrain from expressing his shock on his face. “He’s indicated repeatedly that he has no inclination to part with it.”

And with good reason. If these new steam engines ever became something more than a lark or flimsy amusement ride, the land would be a prime spot to utilize their shipping capabilities. The inquisitive men who were obsessed with the smoke-churning energy were one day going to make something that could actually transport goods more than a foot or two, and Griffith’s land in Cheshire would make a perfect connection point when that happened. It was worth holding on to.

Ashcombe set his empty glass on the table. “Never underestimate the power of reputation in changing a man’s mind.”

Colin scoffed. The earl intended to blackmail the duke? He had quite a bit more nerve than Colin had realized. “You have nothing on Riverton.”

“I know. The dangers of being a family man, hmmm?” Lord Ashcombe stood and straightened his coat sleeves. “And I’ll even gain a pretty wife in the bargain. Useless, but pretty.”

Colin forced himself to breath evenly, though it felt as if very little air was actually making it into his lungs. The earl was going after Griffith’s family? And as for the wife . . . Georgina? It certainly appeared that the earl was Georgina’s first choice, but that preference wouldn’t be enough to sway Griffith to part with the land.

Unless . . . Colin choked.
“Useless but pretty
.”
Ashcombe knew. There was no other explanation.

“Lady Georgina has shown a preference for you as her waltz partner, as I hear.” Colin forced himself to continue his calm sipping of coffee.

“Yes. Society considers her quite a catch. It’s amazing what fools we can be.” Ashcombe rose. “Be thinking of my offer, Mr. McCrae. I know you’ve worked in that area before, and I would prefer to work with a man who is familiar with the land.”

“Of course.” Colin nodded his head even as his thoughts went in three different directions.

Ashcombe tipped his hat and left.

Colin gulped the last of his coffee and then went for a walk. He didn’t know where he was going or what he hoped to find. All he knew was that staying in one place wasn’t an option. The churning emotions, his equally unbalancing thoughts. Dear God, what was he supposed to do with it all?

Eventually he found himself in the gardens beside Grosvenor Chapel. A peaceful oasis, mere steps away from Hawthorne House, the center of the anguish he’d drowned in over the past month. He didn’t know what to think anymore.

He sank down on to a bench, looking at the side of the chapel, admiring the windows framed with lush plants. It looked different from the outside. Still beautiful and God-honoring, but different. Perhaps that was what he needed in this situation. A new perspective, particularly one from God.

Yes, some time alone with God was exactly what this situation needed.

Georgina slammed her bedchamber door hard enough to make the latch bounce and the door swing open once more.

So she kicked it.

Harriette stood in the middle of the room, eyes wide. “My lady?”

“He’s gone.” Georgina threw her reticule onto the dressing table. “We’re halfway through the Season, Harriette. What am I going to do?”

The maid reached a hand out to try to catch Georgina’s shoulder as she paced by. It did little more than graze a sleeve. “Who is gone, my lady?”

“Last night Lord Ashcombe told me to make sure Griffith was available this morning. He’s been by twice to see him this week, but my brother has apparently been too busy.” Georgina stopped and waved a hand toward the door. “What could he possibly be doing that is more important than settling my future?”

Harriette folded her hands together in front of her. “Perhaps he didn’t know that’s what the request was for.”

“Of course he knew.” Georgina resumed pacing. “Why else would Lord Ashcombe be requesting an audience with him?”

Silence met Georgina’s question as the maid waited patiently by the dressing table. Of course there were other reasons for a man to request an audience with Griffith. Men were in and out of her brother’s study all day long, but for some reason he’d always been too busy for Lord Ashcombe. Georgina had had to beg him to set aside time this morning for the earl. She’d never had to beg Griffith for anything before.

And then the man hadn’t shown up.

She’d been prepared to lecture him on it at that evening’s dinner party, but he hadn’t shown up there either.

What was it with men disappearing? She hadn’t seen Colin in well over a week. Even the little Colin in her head had made fewer and fewer appearances in the past few days. Tonight she’d given in to curiosity and discreetly mentioned him to Trent. Her brother hadn’t even seen the man in a week either, and they’d been meeting at the club every other day before that.

“He’s gone, Harriette.” Georgina plopped onto the stool in front of the dressing table. She didn’t have the energy to keep the despondency from her voice.

“Who?” Harriette approached Georgina slowly, as if she were an unpredictable horse.

“Lord Ashcombe.” Yes, surely it was
his
absence that had her so melancholy. Colin’s absence was nothing more than a curiosity.

Georgina sighed. “And according to Lord Eversly, it could be a very long time before he comes back.”

Georgina refused to admit out loud that it was something of a relief. He hadn’t sent any more notes across the room this week, but he’d kept looking at her strangely, watching her even more closely than before. She’d been more careful than ever, and it had left her exhausted.

Harriette began plucking pins from Georgina’s hair. “Where did he go?”

“Home to Cheshire. Apparently the man overseeing his estate and interests up there got a better job offer and left for it immediately. Jane said the man sent notice that he was packing and moving his family with the intention of being gone by the time the letter reached London.” Georgina began to brush her freed locks.

“That must be quite a job.” Harriette undid Georgina’s laces and encouraged her to stand and remove the dress.

Georgina grunted. “Lord Eversly said the man left to manage a shipping yard in Glasgow. I know Cheshire isn’t the most
civilized of counties, but to leave it for Scotland? Who wants to go to Glasgow?”

I’m from Glasgow.

Georgina frowned at the little man in her head. Now he chose to make a reappearance? She shooed him away with a large mental broom. She wasn’t interested in his version of her conscience.

“You spent a lot of time with Lord Eversly this evening, then? He’s very popular. They mention him in the paper nearly every day.” Harriette slid Georgina’s dress over her head and moved to place it in the wardrobe.

“He’s a viscount, Harriette. He won’t do at all.”

“Neither will the earl.”

The maid’s quiet words snatched Georgina from her sullen reverie. “What?”

Harriette rushed forward and caught Georgina’s hand in her own. “You don’t truly want to marry the earl, do you? It doesn’t seem as though you like him very much.”

Without a word Georgina moved toward the bed, avoiding Harriette’s gaze until she was lying down, blankets pulled up to her chin, and tears threatening to spill over her lashes. “What am I going to do, Harriette?”

Harriette smoothed a hair back from Georgina’s face. “What we always do. Find a way.”

It was what Harriette had said since they were children, sitting on the side of a lake, reading children’s stories. They’d become a team that day, Georgina and Harriette against the world. Tonight, however, the confident assurance didn’t make Georgina feel any better. She was standing on a cliff, watching her last bridge start to smoke. What if the only way left was down?