Why Earls Fall in Love (12 page)

Georgie had long ago discovered her employer’s aversion to the theater, but she did wish in some way to be of help to her. Especially at times like now, when the entire household seemed to have plans for the night.

“Then perhaps I’ll stay here and chat with you,” Georgie said with a smile. “We still have a game of chess to finish, I believe.”

“Stop trying to be so blasted dutiful.” Lady Russell shook her head. “When I said that you should go tonight, I meant it. You’ve done nothing but keep me company for the past few months and that is simply not good for a young unmarried lady.”

“Widow,” Georgie gently corrected. “I’m not this petite flower you think me to be.”

“No, of course you aren’t,” Lady Russell groused. “You’re as strong as an ox with a personality to match.” Her grin took some of the sting out of being compared to a beast of burden. “And yes, you are widowed, but that doesn’t mean that you should never marry again. You are a young woman yet, and what better place for you to see and be seen by eligible young men than the theater.”

“You’re trying to get rid of me?” Georgina demanded. “I hadn’t thought you would be tired of me already.”

Lady Russell banged her walking stick upon the floor. “I am not tired of you, you silly widgeon! I am trying to save you from ending up elderly and alone like I did. And if you can’t see that it’s as plain as a pikestaff that you are far prettier than I ever was, then you are far more foolish than I imagined you.”

“Good gracious,” Georgie said, exasperated. “Are you honestly telling me that you consider yourself to be elderly and alone?”

At that Lady Russell had the grace to look a bit sheepish. “Very well,” she said with a shake of her silvery head. “I am perhaps not quite so alone or weak as I’ve made myself out to be. But I am an eccentric old woman who has more money than is good for her, who wishes to see her dear friend, who is also her companion, enjoy herself for a change. So I will have no more arguments out of you, miss. You will go to the theater tonight and you will enjoy yourself. Even if I have to get up from my sickbed to make it so.”

As her employer became more and more vehement, Georgie’s astonishment grew. Finally, when she had stopped talking, Georgie said, “I had no idea you felt this way, Lady Russell.”

“Perhaps if you would stop worrying about things so much you might find yourself better able to observe.”

Unable to stop herself, Georgie moved forward to give the older lady a hug. “You are a wonderful friend, Lady Russell, and I am honored to have you call me such.”

Looking uncomfortable, Lady Russell gave a slight shrug. “I’ve been quite pleased with your service to me. I believe you care more for me than the nieces and nephews who have come to Bath only so that they might secure their inheritance from me. Do you think that I don’t know how reluctant most of them have been to come here?”

Georgie moved to take a seat in the chair beside the settee. “Dear Lady Russell, I don’t think they came only for the inheritance. Why, I’ve heard even Lydia say that you’re a dear and she can’t understand why the family hasn’t gathered like this before.”

“That’s a shock,” Lady Russell said, her eyes shining with amusement. “I thought the gel cared for nothing but dresses and gentlemen.”

“If you would allow yourself to spend more time with them,” Georgie said gently, “I feel sure you’d find that they are all quite amiable people. Aside from the fact that they’re your only living relations. I’ve lost both parents and I cannot tell you how much I miss being able to do the very things with them that you are avoiding with your own family.”

“Your mother always did love a good argument,” Lady Russell said with a sigh. At Georgie’s gasp, she nodded. “Yes, that was rather a bigger secret than you were planning to hear, wasn’t it?”

Georgie found she was having trouble understanding just what Lady Russell had said. “Do you mean to tell me that you knew my mama?”

“Of course I do,” the older woman said in exasperation. “It was long before you were born, of course, or you wouldn’t be so shocked.”

Grateful she was seated, Georgie gaped. “But, how … I mean … why … why did you not tell me? I’ve even told you how much I miss her and wondered about her life before she met Father. And you’ve known I was her daughter the entire time.”

Lady Russell took one of Georgie’s hands in hers. “There, there, my dear. I didn’t mean for it to remain a secret between us. But I was so concerned that you with your stubborn streak would refuse to come live with me unless it was under the guise of your acting as my companion. And every time I thought of telling you, I found myself frightened of what your response would be.”

“But why tell me now?” Georgie asked, her head still reeling from the revelation. “What’s different about now from all the times before?”

Lady Russell smiled. “If you’ll hand me that jewel case sitting on the table, I will tell you.”

Puzzled, Georgie went to retrieve the box and handed it to Lady Russell, who opened it and began sorting through the contents. Putting aside a diamond and ruby cuff bracelet, and another necklace made of opals and onyx, she seemed to be searching for one piece in particular. Finally, she stopped and removed a finely crafted necklace of matched sapphires from the case. The clasp was made of gold and was embedded with a large pearl that glinted in the lamplight.

“First of all, you should know that these are not part of the Russell entail. Just in case someone thinks to question why they are in your possession.” Lady Russell stared down at the gems and seemed to see something there besides the necklace. Shaking off her reverie, she continued, “They were a gift to me from my husband upon the birth of my son.”

At Georgie’s questioning look, she nodded. “Yes, I had a son. Though he did not live beyond infancy. It was the greatest tragedy of my life. And of course it meant that the Russell viscountcy went to a distant cousin of Arthur’s. But it was the loss of the boy that truly hurt. Not the title or the estate.”

“I’m so sorry,” Georgie said, clasping Lady Russell’s hand. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Blinking back a tear, Lady Russell said, “I am sharing it with you because it wasn’t too long after that that my husband hit me for the first time.”

Silence fell between them as Georgie considered what that confession meant.

“I tell you this because I wish for you to know that you are not alone. You are not the first woman to have felt the mark of a husband’s fist, and though I wish it were not so, you are not the last. You’re a strong woman, Georgina, but I think at times you forget that you have allies. That you are no longer trapped within that awful intimacy between brutal husband and abused wife.”

When Georgina didn’t answer, Lady Russell continued. “I want you to have these sapphires. I want you to wear them to the theater tonight. I want them to remind you that there are those like me, like Clara, like Con, who care about you. No matter what happened in the past.”

Reluctantly, Georgie reached out a hand and touched one of the glinting gems. It was far warmer than she’d have imagined. Could she wear these jewels knowing they were a reminder of Lady Russell’s most awful memory? Even if she insisted?

“Yes,” the older woman said, as if reading Georgie’s thoughts. “You can. Because they remind me not only of sad times, but also of those wonderful months before my boy was taken from me. Remember that there are good times as well as bad.”

With a shaking hand, Georgie took the necklace from Lady Russell, and hoped that what the other woman said was true. She was in desperate need of some good times.

Seven

As he put the finishing touches on his cravat—the mathematical, which he’d mastered at Oxford and never seen much need to improve upon—Con was very aware of the fact that just on the other end of the hall, Georgina was dressing for tonight’s excursion to the theater. For a brief moment he allowed himself to wonder just what that curvaceous figure looked like before it was hidden away beneath another hideous gown.

As an artist, he had always been aware of the way the right color or cut of gown could either enhance or detract from a lady’s looks. Since Georgie’s gowns he’d seen thus far had done nothing to improve upon the dazzling looks she’d been born with, he’d spent an inordinate amount of time imagining what she’d look like in a truly well-cut gown from Madame Celeste in a color that would bring out the blue of her eyes. Naturally, he’d spent just as much time mentally removing said gown to reveal the undergarments his imagination had also supplied.

These were just the foolish thoughts of his libido, however. His mind also spent time lingering on Georgina’s personality. Her kindness to Lady Russell, for instance. The sensible way she’d taken charge of the younger cousins on their trip to the ruins. Her sincere interest in his cousin Ernestine’s interminable horse-and-hounds stories.

Mrs. Georgina Mowbray was a genuinely good person. The sort that Con had not often found himself lusting after. It was a novel enough experience that he found her quick wit and kind heart just as alluring as her pretty face.

Con checked the clock and realized he’d spent far too long ruminating. Allowing his valet to help him squeeze into his evening coat, Con gave one last tug on his cravat and stepped hurriedly into the hallway.

Only to run smack into the object of his not-so-pure thoughts.

“Oof.” It was a sound so counter to the lady before him that Con almost wondered if he’d been the one to say it. Instinctively, he grabbed onto her arms, which were bare except for a thin wrap which did little to dampen the feeling of the flesh beneath.

“I am so very sorry, my lord,” Georgina said, steadying herself in his arms by flattening her hands against his chest. Then, perhaps realizing what she’d done, she pulled her hands back as if he were made of flames. “Dear me,” she said a little dizzily. “Forgive me. I can only blame—”

Before she could utter any more inanities, he gave in to the desire that seemed to have conjured her in the air before him. Stopping her words, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Because she’d been in mid-sentence, her mouth was slightly open. Taking advantage of the fact, Con deepened the kiss, teasing her mouth with his questing tongue. Though a small noise in the back of her throat indicated Georgina’s surprise, she was quick to respond, answering Con’s stroke into her softness with her own tongue against his. Surprised, but pleased, he allowed his hands to slide over her back and pulled her closer against him, reveling in the press of her breasts against his chest, her stomach against his stirring arousal. Her hands slipped around his neck as they explored one another.

It was only the sound of a door slamming downstairs that reminded them they were in the hallway where anyone might come upon them.

Reluctantly, Con pulled away leaving both of them gasping for air. He watched her, unable to speak, as Georgina pressed a hand against her mouth. Her cheeks were pink with arousal and he was intrigued to note that the blush spread down over her chest. Vowing to explore that later, he said in a low voice, “I would beg your pardon for that, but I suspect you wanted it just as much as I did. Am I right, Georgina?”

Her eyes wide, pupils dilated, she nodded. “Yes,” she said, moving the hand that had been at her lips to rest on her chest. “Yes, I did.”

Though her response made Con long to toss her over his shoulder and disappear with her into his bedchamber for a few weeks, he merely nodded.

“We have an engagement, I believe,” he said, offering her his arm. “Shall we go down? I believe Clara dislikes being late for anything. Let alone the theater.”

Bemused, she took it. And as she did so, Con noticed that though she was wearing a gown he’d seen before in London at some function or other—not quite as ugly as her other frocks—the circlet of sapphires was something he’d not seen her wear before.

“You are looking quite well, tonight, Mrs. Mowbray,” he said, putting his hand over hers where it rested on his arm. “The sapphires are lovely with your eyes.”

Self-consciously, she lifted a hand to the necklace, as if she’d forgotten it was there. “Oh, yes. Lady Russell gave them to me to wear tonight.”

He was unaware of his aunt even allowing her companions to wear her jewels before. But Lady Russell had been known to do stranger things, he reminded himself. “That was kind of her,” he said. “I know she holds you in some affection. She rarely let’s people see them, much less wear them. Did she tell you how she received them?”

“I believe she said that your uncle gave them to her upon the birth of their son,” Georgina said, as she walked ahead of Con down the narrow staircase leading to the ground floor.

“That’s right.” Con was surprised that his aunt had told her about her son. But it proved just how close they’d become. “There’s a portrait of the three of them in the Russell family seat. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen her wear them. After the baby died, she told me she came to hate them. I think she would have let them pass into the Russell family after Uncle died and the title was inherited by a distant cousin, but the heir wouldn’t hear of it. He said that she should have them as a reminder.”

“Oh, dear.” Georgina’s hand lifted again to touch the stones. “So much sadness surrounding this beautiful piece of jewelry. I did not know about the portrait. I should, on the one hand, like to see what he looked like. The child, I mean. It is such a shame for little ones to be forgotten. But on the other hand, I do not know if I could bear to see her happiness knowing that it would so soon be snatched away from her by fate.”

“Not fate,” Con said, unable to stop himself from speaking the words aloud. “Fate didn’t take her child away, my uncle did.”

Georgie stopped, turning on the step to look at him. “I thought he died of some illness or a fever or the like.”

Stepping down to the floor beneath them, Con turned and reached up to hand her down. “I’m afraid not,” he said gently. “And now is not the right place to tell the tale,” he continued as they were joined by Clara, her husband, John, Lydia and her escort, Mr. Demouy. “Suffice it to say it’s not a pretty tale.”