Why Earls Fall in Love (13 page)

“What’s not, Con?” Lydia asked, her inquisitive eyes darting from her cousin to Georgina and back.

“None of your affair, Lydia,” her mother said pointedly. With an apologetic glance at Con, she turned to inspect Georgina.”My dear, you are looking splendid this evening. Isn’t she, John?”

But before her father could respond, Lydia spoke up again, “You are looking rather well, Mrs. Mowbray. Though I daresay it’s the sapphires that are the real stunners. They do go well with your eyes.” A silent communication passed between Clara and Lydia, Con saw. He did not envy his cousin the London season that Lydia had yet to enjoy. It was difficult enough being her cousin. He couldn’t imagine what parenting the chit would be like.

“Very nice, very nice,” John said in his friendly way, completely unaware of the undercurrents in the conversation.

“I think the lady looks much better than the sapphires,” Mr. Demouy said with a glance that lingered for far too long on Georgina’s bosom.

Con might have said something if Lydia hadn’t stepped in before him. “I had no idea you were so interested in jewelry, Mr. Demouy,” the girl said with a speaking look. “Perhaps you wish to escort Mrs. Mowbray to the carriage so that you might get a closer look at her … sapphires?”

Choking on a laugh, Con watched as the younger man blushed all the way up to his eyebrows. “Not a chance, Lydia,” he told his cousin. “Mrs. Mowbray has agreed to be my guest this evening. Mr. Demouy will have to stay with the lady he came in with, so to speak.”

“I’m rather beginning to feel like the prize cow at a country fair,” Georgina muttered, earning her a grin from Clara and a stifled laugh from Con.

“Not a cow, my dear,” Con said, leading her out the door and toward the waiting carriage, “but definitely a prize.”

*   *   *

Georgie felt rather like the cousin come up to town from the country as they entered the crowded lobby of the Theater Royale.

She’d seen a few plays in London with Isabella and Perdita, but she never lost her enthusiasm for attending performances. There was something about the thrill of seeing live performers recite words on the stage that gave her chills. And for all that it was no longer quite so fashionable as it once was, Bath theater was still quite good.

Added to her excitement regarding the play was the sensation of walking into the theater on Con’s arm. Again and again her mind returned to the kiss they’d shared earlier that evening. Her hand resting on his strong arm could not help but appreciate the heat of his body through the clothing that separated them. Each flex of the muscles beneath her hand reminded her of how strong his arms had felt as they’d clasped her against him.

For Con’s sake, she was grateful for Lady Russell’s decision to gift the sapphires to her this evening. She might not be dressed as fashionably as the other ladies in attendance, but she knew without doubt that the sapphires circling her throat were as fine a set of gems as could be found in England.

Perhaps taking note of her awe, Con pointed out the architectural highlights of the theater as they moved through the throng and up the stairs to Lady Russell’s box. Because the lady lived in Bath year round she kept a permanent box which she allowed friends and relations to use as they needed it. And to Georgie’s delight, it gave her a perfect view of the stage, as well as the surrounding boxes.

“I think Mrs. Mowbray and I will take the seats in the front of the box,” Con said. “She is, after all, our guest.”

“I don’t see how,” Lydia said with a pout. “She’s Aunt Russell’s companion. Not a friend come to visit.” Then, as if realizing she’d been so uncharitable aloud, she added, “Though of course we are grateful to have her with us.”

Clara, who had taken a seat in the second row, frowned at her daughter. “You forget, however, that we have all been to the theater in Bath before, while Mrs. Mowbray has not.” Turning to Georgie, she continued, “I do hope you will excuse my daughter. She is in the habit of speaking her mind. A habit I fear will get her into trouble one of these days.”

Ignoring the byplay between the mother and daughter, Con led Georgina into the front row. “Come and have a seat, Mrs. Mowbray, so that we can survey the room.”

“Perhaps Lydia is correct,” she said, hesitating before the chair. “I am hardly an honored guest. And I’m sure I shall be able to see quite as well from some other, less prominent seat. Really, my lord.”

In an undertone, Con said, “But you can see everyone in Bath from here as well, which makes this the perfect place from which to search for your husband’s look-alike.”

When put that way, Georgie saw the wisdom of his suggestion, though she knew there would be a price to pay later in the form of unkind words from Lydia. Even so, that was likely to happen whether she took the seat or not. “I suppose you are correct,” she said, reluctantly taking her seat.

“Of course I am,” he said, settling in beside her. “He watched you from the garden, he followed you to the ruins, and who knows where else. I think he’ll be unable to resist this opportunity to watch you from the relative safety of a crowd.”

“I still don’t understand what the man’s aim is,” Georgie said with a sigh. “He’s frightened me. Made me believe I was seeing things. But that’s hardly worth the time and effort it would take to frighten me properly.” Though she supposed she’d been frightened
properly
enough on the other two occasions she’d seen him too.

“We’ll find out when we catch him,” Con said fiercely, and Georgie was grateful that he was on her side. She sensed that once roused, Con’s protective instincts were strong, and that for whatever reason he considered her his to protect. Again she remembered the kiss. He had been focused on her then. She wondered what all that focus would feel like given more time and a bit of privacy.

She shivered at the thought.

“It is rather chilly in here, isn’t it?” Con said beside her, oblivious to her train of thought, though the brief caress he stole under the pretense of tucking her shawl around her shoulders indicated he was perhaps not as oblivious as he seemed. “Once the masses shuffle in the temperature will warm up a bit.”

Thanking him, Georgie scanned the sea of faces laughing and talking in the other boxes while they waited for the play to begin. Seeing the direction of her gaze, Con began to point out various of the more notorious members of the
ton
. “Just across the way we have the Duke of Winterson’s box. You’ll remember that a couple of years ago he married the daughter of the famous Egyptologist Lord Hurston. They are here with Lord Hurston who is taking the waters for his health. And also in their box are the Earl of Gresham and his wife, as well as Viscount Deveril and his wife. Gresham’s wife, Lady Madeline, is a novelist and Deveril’s lady is a celebrated pianist and composer. The three wives are all cousins and are friendly with each other so they tend to come to events together.”

“I had heard about them,” Georgie said, taking the opera glasses from Con so that she could spy across the theater. “The duchess is involved in the Ladies’ Charitable Society with Perdita and Isabella and me. She seems quite sensible. And I’ve read Lady Gresham’s first novel. It was quite good.”

“We could go speak to them during the interval if you like,” Con said. “Lady Deveril has done quite a bit for veterans returning from the wars. I would have been surprised if you hadn’t heard of her, considering what an uproar her own condition caused just after she married Deveril. It was quite the scandal.”

Georgie’s eyes widened. “Of course! She’s the countess who suffered an amputation. I recognize her now.” She gazed thoughtfully at the party in the opposite box. “I think I should like to meet them. Thank you for suggesting it. Though I have no idea what they’ll make of me.”

Con tilted his head in puzzlement. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You’re hardly an antidote. And you enjoy friendship with two duchesses. I think that makes you rather special.” His eyes darkened for a flash. “Among other things.”

Feeling a blush rising, she forged ahead. “I am hardly the sort that they must usually mix with. Though you are right, I suppose, that the friendship I have with Isabella and Perdita must count for something. Though I’ll admit I’d never considered trading on it to gain introductions to other people in the beau monde. For the most part, I’m afraid I find society a bit insufferable.”

“You are rather hard on my peers,” Con said with a grin. “Not that I don’t agree with you for the most part, but even so.”

“I should probably hold my tongue,” Georgie said with a grimace. “I am hardly in a position to criticize given my own position outside polite society.”

Con took her gloved hand in his and covered it with his. “Do not speak about yourself that way,” he said softly. “You are far more deserving of praise than these people. To me, anyway.” Georgie thought back to that kiss again and her stomach flipped. But Con must have remembered that they were in a very public place, so he turned his head to focus on the other theatergoers again.

“Hmm, who else might we see and discuss,” he said. Then turning to the right of the Winterson party, he paused. “Aha! There we have it…”

He continued amusing Georgie with anecdotes and bons mots regarding the rest of the assembled crowd in attendance until the play began. Then Georgie’s attention was firmly riveted to the stage where the sharp-tongued Beatrice and the romance-resistant Benedick crossed verbal swords. She had no difficulty imagining herself in Beatrice’s place, pronouncing that she had rather hear her dog bark at a crow than hear a man say he loved her.

By the time the first interval arrived, Georgie was thoroughly energized from what she’d just seen on stage. It was a strange aftereffect of entertainments like this that they always made her want to go out and take the stage herself. It was a ridiculous notion of course, but one that held a certain appeal to her even so.

“What must it be like to have such a talent for bringing someone else’s words and characters to life?” she said to Con, who was waiting beside her for the rest of their party to make their decisions about whether to leave the box for refreshments or to remain there until the break ended.

“Exciting, I should think,” was his response. “When I was much younger, Aunt and Uncle liked to throw parties where the guests performed various Shakespeare plays. I got to play Puck from
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
once, and it was dashed fun.”

Imagining what young Con must have looked like, with his dark curls and blue eyes, Georgie found herself smiling at the notion. “I’ll bet you were adorable.”

“Some would say I still am,” he quipped.

“Now,” he continued, “shall we remain in the box or go in search of refreshment? Or I can have refreshments brought here to the box.”

Georgie felt the nervous energy pent up in her body and realized that she desperately needed to walk about a bit. “I should like to stretch my legs,” she admitted.

By this time the other two couples were gone and Con and Georgie slipped out into the throng of people outside the door of the box. “Stay close,” he said, “it can be quite easy to get caught up in this.” He told her the number of their box just in case they became separated.

“Yes, my lord,” she said wryly, as she allowed him to take her by the hand and lead her toward a disturbingly long line where a server was handing out cups of punch.

As they waited, Con greeted various friends and acquaintances as they passed by. Some stopped to chat for a bit, and when Con made introductions she was surprised that he introduced her not as his aunt’s companion, but as a family friend. She supposed that either would do, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit dishonest. No matter how Lady Russell had encouraged her to think of herself as such earlier when she’d bestowed the sapphires upon her.

They were nearing the front of the line when Georgie felt someone collide with her and to her dismay she lost sight of Con and was soon engulfed in the crowd around them. Since she wished to visit the ladies’ retiring room in any case, she decided simply to go there then meet him back at the box.

They’d passed the door to the retiring room some time ago, so she headed in the direction from which they’d come and was soon rewarded by the sight of yet another line. With a sigh she found the end and waited behind a lady wearing a rather imposing turban adorned with a peacock feather. For a few moments she waited there, listening to the snatches of conversation coming from the people around her.

One older woman was chastising her middle-aged daughter for having chosen such a feckless husband. A pair of gentlemen were discussing the figure of the actress playing Beatrice in some detail, the finer points of which made Georgie’s eyes widen in surprise. She’d grown up around military men, who were as bold as any other males, but they’d been careful to edit their conversations around the daughter of their commanding officer. She supposed the men here thought their conversation would be lost amid the noise of the rest of the crowd.

Realizing that she was a lone female in a crowd of men, she searched for a member of her party, but in vain. Nervous, she began to walk briskly down the hallway toward Lady Russell’s box. She’d only gone a few feet when she saw a familiar figure up ahead. The light brown hair was a bit longer than she remembered, but the height was right, even if she were convinced that it could not possibly be who she thought him to be.

It’s my husband’s look-alike again.

The man was walking with his back to her, his gait as fast as he could manage in the crowded hallway. Determined not to lose him, Georgie sped up herself, though she was hampered by her lack of height and the tendency of the other theatergoers to stop and talk to friends as they wandered the halls. Finally, she saw him turn down a corridor that must lead to some of the nonpublic rooms of the theater for there was no one else there when she turned to follow him but a group of gentlemen whose clothing and age marked them as likely to be just out of university.

“Pardon me,” she said when it appeared that they would not simply move out of her way. “I should like to pass.”