Why Earls Fall in Love (31 page)

“Ah, yes,” Lettice said, wrapping her left arm across Georgie’s chest to hold her steady, and bringing the knife up against Georgie’s throat again. “I wanted to ask you a few things before you have to dash off.”

She laughed at her own joke for a moment before continuing. “But seriously, I would like to know what it is about you that makes grown men turn into slavering idiots. I’ve never been able to understand it. Even my own dear husband thought you were the prettiest little thing he ever saw. And let’s not forget your dear husband, Robert, who still watched your every little move even while he was bedding everyone but you! Now is that fair, I ask you? I say that it is not! Then your brother-in-law, dear Malcolm, took the instructions I gave him to watch over you far too seriously. Didn’t he realize that he was only supposed to watch you? There was nothing in my notes instructing him to build castles in the air about taking you away from it all.

“Men are so unutterably foolish. But none of them has been quite as foolish over you as your own dear Galahad, there, Lord Coniston. Though Galahad was pure, wasn’t he? And your dear, dear Coniston is anything but. He can be a very naughty boy. Why, I suspect he had carnal desires for you while he was betrothed to your dear friend the young dowager. He is a man, isn’t he?”

As she spoke, Lettice’s voice became more and more strident until she reached the end of her speech when she was shouting. “I want to know what it is about you, Georgina!” she cried through clenched teeth. “I want to know why they all love you!”

All the while Lettice was winding herself up into a towering rage, Georgie was biding her time. She could feel the other woman shaking as she allowed her anger to overtake her, until finally the hand holding the knife against her throat was so unsteady that Georgie feared she’d cut her throat accidentally. But when Lettice shouted her last words, Georgie judged the moment to be right, and her hands free, she grabbed hold of the forearm of Lettice’s knife hand and pushed as hard as she could away from her neck. Then she dropped all of her weight downward and scrambled away from Lettice and toward Con.

Having her arm thrown forward then back made Lettice lose her balance, and as she scrambled to right herself, she found only air. Unable to regain her footing, she flew backward over the edge of the short wall and down to the stone-covered ground below.

*   *   *

“So this Lettice Stowe person was responsible for all of it?” Isabella asked from her perch on the arm of Trevor’s chair. “But what on earth sent her over the edge?”

“Oh, Isabella,” Perdita said with a grimace. “That was a bad pun even for you.”

They were all, including Georgina and Con, who were seated next to one another on the settee, gathered in the drawing room of Perdita’s house in Laura Place.

After the events of the day before they’d all been reluctant to let Georgie out of their sight. Especially Con, but Georgie could not find it in herself to resent him for it. After so many years of feeling as if she had no one to lean on in times of strife, it was a comfort to know she could lean on Con if she had to.

“Yes, to answer the question,” she said, breaking into the sisterly bickering. “From what her journals revealed, she was living here in Bath when she received a summons from someone she never names. He offered to pay for her to stay in Bath if she would perform a service for him. Which was to make my life here miserable.”

“And there’s no way of knowing who this person was?” Trevor asked, frowning. “I am dashed tired of this fellow getting away without punishment while his minions take all the blame.”

“It is rather troubling, isn’t it?” Isabella asked, absently stroking his arm. “It sounds all too familiar, this delegation of dirty work.”

“I didn’t say that, precisely,” Georgie said quickly. “Mr. McGilloway gave me a letter to examine from the person who wrote to Lettice. I’ll give you one guess as to whose hand it’s in.”

“Never say!” Perdita gasped. “The same person who pens your threats about last season?”

“Correct,” Con said. He’d been quiet through this entire exchange and Georgie could feel the tension in his body next to hers. She had tried to reassure him that she was in one piece, but that didn’t seem to be enough to quell his fears.

Since Georgie knew how she would feel had their positions in the bell tower been reversed, she understood and tried not to worry him further.

“The penmanship is definitely the same,” Con continued. “And the paper is similar as well. So this person, whoever he is, is determined to see to it that you three are punished in whatever way he can manage. Though it seems his preferred method is to use someone who already bears you a grudge to do the task.”

“And someone we don’t already see as a threat,” Isabella said thoughtfully. “I must admit, it’s rather clever of him. If the attack comes from a direction we don’t expect then the blow is likely to be more painful.”

“Exactly,” Georgie said. “We aren’t dealing with a weak intelligence. This person is extremely bright. And is willing to do whatever it takes to prey upon our worst fears.”

“Let us hope that he doesn’t like repeating himself,” Perdita said in a joking tone. “For I have no wish to see the specter of Gervase mooning up at me from the back garden.”

“It’s not a joke, your grace,” Archer said, rising from his chair by the fire to stalk over to the window. Almost as if he wished to reassure himself that there was no ghost hiding in the garden. “This man, whoever he is, has unsuccessfully attempted to arrange the deaths of your sister and your friend. And if he holds to his pattern, you will be next on his list. It is not a matter for joking. We should instead be making plans to get you away from your usual locales and find somewhere that you can lie low for a while. Until the threat passes.”

“And when will that be?” Perdita asked, her face taut with annoyance. “Next year? The year after? I have spent long enough cowering in the shadows, Archer, and I do not intend to do so ever again.”

“He may be right, though, Perdita,” Isabella said quietly. “If there is a way to protect yourself from this monster, then perhaps you should take advantage of it. I should hate to see you suffer as we have.”

“I have twice now seen this person threaten people I love,” Perdita said firmly. “I will not be the one to hide myself away when my turn comes. I will stand firm, and when he comes for me, I will be waiting.”

With a muttered imprecation, Archer strode from the room and down the stairs. Faintly they heard the front door close after him as he left the house.

“Well,” Perdita said, “I didn’t mean to annoy him, but it is my decision to make, after all.”

Suspecting that Lord Archer was more invested in keeping Perdita safe than her friend realized, Georgie kept silent. It was not her place to tell Perdita of her suspicions. And if Archer wished her to know he would have done so by now.

Changing the subject, she said brightly, “Enough of this morose talk. Let us discuss something happy.” She looked pointedly at Isabella who frowned in puzzlement for a moment. Then comprehension dawning, she laughed. “Oh, that. I’d quite forgotten it was news.”

“What was news?” Con asked, looking from one lady to the other.

“Only that it would appear that the house of Ormond is expecting a new addition to the fold,” Georgie said with a grin. “You knew that already didn’t you, Con?”

“Oh, that,” he said, echoing Isabella. “Yes, I already knew that. But it is a delightful change of topic all the same.”

The good news did what Georgie had hoped and infused the room with a happier atmosphere as they began to suggest possible names for the impending heir. Perdita mouthed “well done” at Georgie while the others were looking the other way. Georgie gave a slight shrug, but she was pleased with how her attempt at changing the subject had worked.

But she was somewhat puzzled when Con stood in the middle of the conversation. Georgie watched, curious, as he said, “I hope you will forgive me for doing this here and now, but I did promise Georgina a spectacle, and since we are unable to go out of doors without encountering a loathsome scandalmonger, I thought you all might serve as our audience.”

“Not at all,” Trevor answered with a grin.

“If this is what I think it is,” Isabella said, her eyes alight with mischief, “then I wouldn’t miss being privy to it for the world.”

“Don’t look at me,” Perdita said with a broad smile, “I said you should do it days ago.”

Beginning to suspect what might be afoot, Georgie felt her heart speed up within her. As she looked on, Con walked toward her, and to her astonishment, he stopped and came down on one knee before her.

She looked up into his dear face, which had become nearly as familiar to her in the past days as her own, and saw love, patience, and something else, something rare and precious, shining out at her from his eyes.

“Georgina,” he began, his voice strong and sure, “I knew from the moment we met that you would be important to me, but at the time I had little knowledge of just how important you would be. Since then I have discovered so many wonderful things about you. Your patience, your kindness, your generosity, your loyalty to your friends, and your passionate nature.” This last had Georgie turning rather pink in the cheeks. “I have known for a while that there is no other woman I would wish to have alongside me as I journey through this life. My darling, my partner, my most precious Georgina, please say you’ll marry me and make me the happiest of men.”

All through his speech, Georgie felt tears streaming down her face, and when he reached the end, she let out a sob.

His face becoming increasingly worried, by the time he finished his proposal, and Georgie sobbed aloud, Con was looking sincerely alarmed. “Georgina, dearest, I know it might be a bit sudden, but I had hoped that you might be happier upon hearing this than you seem to be. Perhaps if I—”

Before he could finish, Georgie shook her head vigorously. “No,” she managed to choke out between sobs. “This is … because … I … am … happy,” she said, before throwing her arms around Con’s neck and sadly crushing his cravat.

Behind them, she heard the door to the drawing room open, and Con leaned back a bit to accept something from Archer, and before she could speak again, Georgie felt a ring being slipped over the knuckle of her ring finger.

“This was my grandmother’s,” he whispered against her hair. “I knew from the moment I saw you that I would be needing it soon. Fortunately, Archer was able to retrieve it for me yesterday. Otherwise we’d have been forced to make do with my signet ring. Which isn’t nearly as pretty.”

Pulling back a little, Georgie looked down at the ring on her finger. It was pretty. A sapphire surrounded by tiny winking diamonds.

Looking into Con’s eyes, however, she said only, “You’re prettier. And stronger. And more beloved.”

At her words, his expression softened and he kissed her. “Not as beloved as you are, my dearest Georgina.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, staring at her every feature as if he were memorizing her for posterity. “I thought I’d lost you up there on that tower,” he whispered.

“You didn’t, though,” Georgie said, looking into his eyes. “I had too much to fight for to ever let her take me.”

“And I had too much to lose to let her win,” Con said, leaning his forehead against hers. “I love you, Georgina,” he said quietly. “I love you more than I ever thought possible.”

“I had a suspicion,” she said with a crooked grin. “What a lovely coincidence that I love you too.”

“Promise me you’ll never put yourself in danger like that again,” Con said fiercely. “I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it.”

“I shall certainly try,” Georgie said, “but you must know there are certain things that we simply cannot control. But I assure you that if it is at all in my power, I will try never to frighten you like that again. But the same goes for you.”

“I think I can make that promise,” Con said, giving her a hug. “Now, I suppose we’d better stop embracing and share our joy with our friends. All right?”

Georgie nodded, and turned around in his arms. “We’re betrothed!” she cried, holding up her newly beringed finger.

And their friends responded with a resounding huzzah.

“I can think of worse ways to begin life as a couple,” Con said to her with a grin, “than with cheers.”

Georgie heartily agreed.

Epilogue

“So many lives were harmed by Lettice Stowe,” Georgie said the next day as she, Perdita, and Isabella shared tea in the drawing room of Laura Place. The men had gone off in search of a prizefight that was supposedly going on in the vicinity. After the excitement of the past week, Georgie could not blame them. “It really is far too much to believe that my dear friend of so many years did all of that because she was jealous of me.”

Not only was she surprised about Lettice, but also that the person who held herself, Isabella, and Perdita responsible for Gervase, Duke of Ormond’s death, was still out there. “Perdita,” she continued, “I know you were resistant to the subject yesterday, but I was hoping that was playacting for the sake of hiding Lord Archer’s reasons for leaving the room. Please tell me that you are not as resistant to taking precautions for your own safety as you suggested yesterday.”

Perdita’s expression, which had been one of good humor, turned wary. “I was exaggerating a bit for the sake of drama,” she said carefully. “But it is an old argument between Archer and me. He is being a bit old-womanish about the whole thing, really. I mean, I know that the two of you faced some sincerely disturbing attacks, but I have no intention of running away from the field before our mysterious last-season correspondent even makes a move. Aside from the fact that I don’t wish to appear cowardly, I don’t know how long I would need to stay away. Five years, ten years, fifteen, forever? It’s a ludicrous proposition for me to leave when there has yet to be a genuine threat to my safety.”

“What of the letters you’ve already received from him?” Isabella asked, her lovely face taut with worry. “Do those not count? Or do you think that he’s of no harm until the first death threat? Or perhaps it’s an attempt on your life that you see as the more legitimate signal to let you know that the game has begun? Tell, me, Sister, when should we begin to feel terror on your behalf?”