Thirty
Fortunately, both Mercy and Mr. Darling were still at the House of Pleasure when Georgette and Nathaniel arrived.
By that time, the footman was sufficiently recovered to make his way down the stairs unassisted and even declared himself fit to ride on the rear of the carriage, clutching the baggage rail as usual.
Georgette wouldn’t hear of it. However, nothing would induce Mr. Darling to ride inside the carriage with his employer and Lord Nathaniel.
“Not that I’m worried about being close enough to you for you to take another swing at me, your lordship, but I’m sure you’ll agree it wouldn’t be fitting for me to ride inside,” Mr. Darling said with a deferential duck of his bandaged head.
Nate took the footman’s side and the driver found himself wedged between Mercy and Mr. Darling all the way back to Yorkingham House. For all the conversation Georgette and Nathaniel indulged in on the trip, the maid and the footman might as well have been in the carriage with them.
Even though they’d made furious love that afternoon, the distance between Georgette and Nate seemed to widen with each turn of the carriage wheels.
His profane outburst when she’d offered to pay for the information that would clear him of wrongdoing in France still stung.
Nate’s revelation about his time in Whitechapel made her realize she really didn’t know much about the man on the squab next to her.
Getting to know him was as hazardous to her heart as pruning her mother’s runaway roses was to her hands.
She never knew when his thorns would prick her.
He’d professed to love her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that since that astounding declaration, he’d done everything he could to push her away.
When they came to a stop before Yorkingham House, she couldn’t fault his manners as he handed her down from the carriage. His smoothly correct gait as he matched her narrower stride and the hand resting gently on the small of her back were beyond reproach. But the extreme politeness rang false.
He hunkered behind the social conventions as if they were shields.
As soon as Georgette was inside the massive front door, her mother came swooping down the grand staircase. Her billowing sleeves trailed like bat wings.
“Where on earth have you been, child? Oh, never mind. You’re here and that’s enough for now.
Mme. Reynard is waiting in your suite for the final fitting.
How could you have forgotten something so absolutely vital?
” Lady Yorkingham hurried on, not waiting for a reply.
“Really, it is too bad of you, Georgette. She has moved heaven and earth to prepare your gown in record time and—what in the world have you done to that poor bonnet?” Her mother quickly untied the bedraggled ribbons and handed it to the waiting steward.
“Humphrey, dispose of this at once. Come along, daughter.”
When Georgette reached the first landing she turned her head to see if Nathaniel was behind her.
He’d been such help when she’d decided to defy her mother and order the pale pink gown instead of the red Lady Yorkingham wanted.
Of course, he wouldn’t be allowed in her suite while the pins were being plied, but he could certainly soothe her mother’s ruffled feathers in the corridor.
He’d helped foment this fashion mutiny. The least he owed her was his support now, when her rebellion was sure to be found out.
All she saw of him was the tail of his greatcoat disappearing through Yorkingham House’s door.
***
“Ah, Lord Nathaniel, welcome.”
Mr. Fortescue Alcock’s butler had been quick to show Nate into his master’s study.
The room was cluttered with ledgers and stacks of paper.
A globe occupied a place of honor near a tall window, the better for the Member of Parliament to keep track of Britain’s interests around the world.
Along with leather-bound books, the shelves were filled with oddments, an engraved plaque from the Duke of Somerville commemorating some service Alcock had rendered His Grace, a brass kaleidoscope on an ornate stand, and on the topmost shelf what appeared to be a stuffed badger.
Mr. Alcock rose from his throne-like chair and came around the burled oak desk, hand extended.
Nate did not move to take it.
After an awkward moment, the Member of Parliament lowered his hand, his smile hardening. “I take it this is not a social call. No matter. Among men of good conscience, disagreements sometimes arise. However, there is no reason we cannot conduct ourselves in a civil manner. Please have a seat.”
Nathaniel didn’t know how Alcock could describe himself as a “man of good conscience” without risking lightning strikes from the Almighty. Lord knew, Nate didn’t consider himself one. “I’ll stand.”
“Very well.” Mr. Alcock returned to his chair and steepled his long fingers before him. “I suppose you want what’s been promised to you.”
Nate frowned at him in puzzlement. Of course, he wanted the proof that would clear him, but he knew Alcock wouldn’t give it up for the asking.
“I’ve been informed that congratulations are in order,” Alcock said. When Nate continued in silence, he went on. “My operative tells me you have succeeded in deflowering Lady Georgette.”
Anger burned a hot trail through his insides. “He lies.”
Alcock picked up a piece of foolscap and read the spidery script aloud.
“The subject carried a hooded, bound woman into a Cheapside flat, whereupon the two of them remained there for the better part of two hours by St. Paul’s bells.
I begged for a bite at the kitchen of the house in question and was accommodated.
Cook was voluble about her employer, Lord Nathaniel Colton.
Thinks the sun rises and sets on his noble arse. ”
Mr. Alcock peered at him over the top of the paper. “Forgive my agent’s editorializing. He sometimes brings more to the report than strictly necessary. But I digress.” He returned to reading aloud.
“Cook blushed when I mentioned seeing a woman carried in against her will, but she assured me his lordship was engaged in a bit of tomfoolery with his ‘light-o-love.’ When Lord Nathaniel and the woman emerged, the lady was no longer hooded and no longer struggling to get away from his lordship. I recognized her as Lady Georgette Yorkingham.”
Alcock let the report drop to his desk to find a place among the reams of other papers and ledgers. “If you didn’t manage to bed her in two hours, I have serious doubts about your manhood.”
The backs of Nate’s eyes burned. “You will not use this information.”
“Of course I will,” Alcock said with a smarmy grin. “This is exactly what’s wanted to keep Cambridge from taking her as his bride. The old bugger will have to start fresh with a new virgin now and I needn’t remind you, time is the ultimate enemy of the royal dukes.”
Nathaniel reached across the desk and snatched Alcock by his snowy-white neckcloth. He pulled him forward to glare at him, nose to nose.
“I am your ultimate enemy,” Nathaniel said through clenched teeth. “If so much as a breath of scandal touches Lady Georgette, I will call you out.”
“A duel? Surely you don’t mean…” The whites showed all the way around Alcock’s eyes. And well they should. Whether Alcock chose pistols or swords, it wouldn’t make a particle of difference. Nathaniel was an acknowledged master of both. “How very…”
“Murderous? That’s the word you’re looking for. Because it’s apt. It would be murder and you and I know it. Socially sanctioned murder, but murder all the same. If we meet on a field of honor, I promise I will kill you.”
Alcock’s complexion paled to the color of week-old porridge. His Adam’s apple bobbed in a hard swallow.
“I scarcely think you’re one to talk of honor,” the man said. “Have you forgotten that if I decide not to clear you, I can just as easily lay the full weight of failure for Maubeuge at your feet?”
“I don’t care what you do about that. My sins are my own and I’ll answer for them.” He gave the man a rough shake before releasing him with enough force to send him sprawling back into his chair. “But you will not harm Lady Georgette. Is that understood?”
“You’re going to regret this.”
“I regret many things, sir. But I’ll never regret this.
” Nate glared at him. If Alcock had discovered information that cleared him and his friends, it stood to reason that Nathaniel could uncover it too.
“Do your worst to me. I don’t care. Do the slightest discourtesy to Lady Georgette and you’ll answer for it. ”
Mr. Alcock adjusted his neckcloth and jutted his chin forward, obviously feeling a little braver now that Nate had released him.
“I believe you’ll see things in a different light shortly.
The tinge of scandal you’ve suffered up to this point was merely living under a cloud.
If you insist on thwarting me in this, Colton, I will rain down the full storm of public censure on you, including criminal charges.
” Alcock smoothed down his waistcoat. “Consider, sir, what your complete disgrace will mean to your family.”
“My family knows what I am,” Nate said woodenly.
Even when he was languishing in an opium den in Whitechapel, his family hadn’t abandoned him.
Somehow, he’d find another way to protect them from Alcock’s venom besides ruining Georgette.
“Lady Georgette does not. If you besmirch her reputation in any way, you may expect me to demand immediate satisfaction. Do you understand me, sir?”
“Yes.” Mr. Alcock narrowed his eyes to glittering slits. “I believe I do. But trust me when I say you will wish I did not by the time I am finished with you.”
***
“Come, daughter,” Lady Yorkingham said as she made her umpteenth circuit of Georgette’s chambers. “I haven’t all day.”
Georgette drew a deep breath, straightened to her full height, and stepped from behind the chinoiserie dressing screen in the pink gown, leaving Mercy to tidy up her discarded clothing.
No matter what her mother said, the pale silk was divine. The clean lines were undisturbed by a single ruffle or furbelow. A deep magenta sash snugged under her breasts, delineating the high waist and allowing the slender skirt to fall in a foamy column to the floor. The fit was perfect.
Lady Yorkingham stared at her for a good half minute. “What is this? Did I or did I not specify red?”
“Have no fear, my lady,” Mme. Reynard said, flying to the trunk in which she’d packed the pink gown. She tore through its contents. “I have also a red gown for Lady Georgette as well. No need to thank me. I value your custom much, you see, so if the pink will not suit, we shall use this one.”
She pulled out a vibrant red gown, festooned with flounces and sleeves so puffy, Georgette suspected they’d touch her earlobes.
“Oh, it’s wonderful,” Lady Yorkingham enthused as she crossed to run the silk through her fingers. “The color is so eye-catching, and the style! This ruching reminds me of a gown I used to wear. It’s exactly what I envisioned.”
Obviously, Mme. Reynard knew who paid her bill.
“I know your mind, my lady,” the modiste said with a grateful curtsy. “I’m happy to have pleased you.”
Georgette screwed her courage to the sticking point. She had no choice but to attend the ball. She didn’t have to appear in that garish red monstrosity. “No, Mother, I won’t wear that gown.”
“What?” Her mother rounded on her like a man-o’-war with all guns loaded for a broadside. “I cannot believe my ears. How can you prefer this”—she waved a bejeweled hand toward Georgette—“this simple thing. Honestly, do you think it fitting for the daughter of a marquis?”
“Is someone taking my name in vain?” her father called from the other side of the closed chamber door.
“Come in, Papa,” Georgette said, grateful for the interruption. “We’d appreciate a masculine opinion.”
The marquis opened the door a bit and peered around it, evidently skittish about invading Georgette’s room when such a delicate operation as a gown fitting was in progress. A smile lit up his face as he swept his gaze over her.
“That’s lovely, my dear,” he said with approval.
“But it’s so plain,” her mother complained.
“The better to complement her beauty,” her father countered. “Georgette doesn’t need anything more.”
Lady Yorkingham took the red gown from the modiste’s hands and held it up before herself. “But I want Georgette to wear this one.”
“Very nice,” her father said diplomatically. Then he cocked his head. “Seems to me I remember another young lady in that very shade of red. Someone who could carry off that bright hue because her own coloring was—and still is—so very striking.”
Georgette’s mother blushed to the tips of her ears. “You remember.”
“Of course I do. I’ll never forget it. You were beautiful in your wedding gown, but when you donned that red traveling ensemble, all I could think was what a very lucky fellow I was.
” He checked the time on his filigreed watch and then returned it to his pocket.
“I also remembered that you love the opera, my dear. We have a box reserved for tonight, so if you don’t wish to miss the overture, I suggest you leave Georgette to her fitting and prepare yourself for an evening with me. ”
Lady Yorkingham’s mouth gaped in surprise for the space of several heartbeats.
“Of course, my lord,” she said, collecting herself swiftly. “Georgette, I’ll trust you to work with Mme. Reynard on the red gown as well.”
“Yes, Mother.” Slightly bewildered, she cast her father a look of pure gratitude as he escorted her mother out.
What on earth had possessed the marquis? Her father never surprised her mother like that. And she knew full well he loathed the opera. Why was the marquis suddenly behaving like an anxious-to-please suitor instead of a man who’d been married for nearly thirty years?
Georgette disappeared behind the dressing screen and let Mercy help her out of the delectable pink confection. In the interests of peace, she’d let the modiste fit her for the red gown as well.
But if her mother insisted she wear it for the ball, Georgette fully intended to spill a cup of chocolate on it while the string quartet was tuning up.