Chapter Six
A re you the Marquess of Heathford?” Georgina repeated, unable to stop her voice from rising sharply at the end. Blades of betrayal pierced through her heart, burying themselves in her spine. Here, she had begun to trust the man, even feel things for him. She’d risked her reputation and worse to rescue a chicken because of how upset he’d looked watching poor Crinitus Legatus await his fate at the beak of a hulking rooster.
And now she had discovered that Alexander was the fiancé being foisted upon her. No wonder he had studiously kept his full name and rank a secret. He must have realized who she was to him and had hoped to covertly charm her.
What, though, could his reason be for wanting to marry her so desperately? She would not even entertain the idea that he could have fallen head over heels in love with her when he’d espied her digging in the pit. Had he wanted her helmet and her treasure that badly? Had he been the one to kidnap Percy? Was today an elaborate ruse to fool her into trusting him? What about his companions at the Black Sheep?
Georgina physically staggered backward under the pressure of the questions bearing down upon her. Alexander—or Lord Heathford, the heartless rogue—stretched his hand forward as if to lend her assistance. The callous actor even feigned a look of concern. Georgina shrank away from his fingers.
“Are. You. Lord. Heathford?” she demanded again, not caring that she sounded like a shrieking harpy.
“Yes,” he breathed out, “but—”
Lord Henry’s sneering voice interrupted whatever lie Alexander was about to spew. “He is, and I am beginning to think you’re not a maid at all. You look deucedly familiar.”
Of course she did, since they’d been practically betrothed by his father and her brother. Although to be fair, Georgina had utterly forgotten that Lord Henry was the brother of the now-infamous Lord Hawley. In the past, she’d only been vaguely conscious of him being the Duke of Lansberry’s second son. What she had clearly remembered, though, was his smooth, mocking voice when she’d overheard him as he walked by her in a crowded ballroom.
Miss H reads so many books about old, grimy things that I swear she’s becoming one herself. She’s recently acquired a distinct layer of dust after being tucked away in cobwebbed corners all Season! What was my father thinking to suggest that I wed such a boring relic?
Lord Henry had spoken the words loudly to his friends, but Georgina knew he’d meant for her to hear. After all, he stared straight at her as he’d passed where she sat. His cronies had glanced at her when they’d strutted by, their contemptuous laughter ringing in her ears.
As both Lord Henry and Lord Heathford studied Georgina now, sweat dripped down her back. She would not crumble under the handsome men’s scrutiny. She wasn’t the same young miss who’d spent every night in London crying in her bedchamber at the cruel words spoken about her lackluster debut. She hadn’t wanted to be a diamond of the first water anyway.
“It’s time for you to leave us be, Talbot,” Alexander said as he once again placed his body between her and Lord Henry. Earlier, she’d thought he was protecting her and had felt reluctant warmth toward him. Now she wondered if he simply saw Lord Henry as an obstacle for whatever dastardly interest Alexander had in her.
“Do you think you can force me to do anything?” Lord Henry’s chiseled face twisted as he poked Alexander in the chest. “Do you need a beating to remind you of your station?”
A surge of protective anger rushed through Georgina just like before when Lord Henry had alluded to bullying Alexander. This time, though, she shoved it aside. She would spare no feelings for the man who had betrayed her.
“We’re in the most fashionable section of London in the late afternoon.” Alexander spoke with a lightness that had originally impressed Georgina and now just sickened her. Before, she’d thought it admirable that he’d maintained such poise in the face of an old tormentor. Now she just regarded it as more evidence of his nefarious acting skills. He should be treading the boards with his friend Mr. Powys.
“Are you hoping for someone to rescue you?” Lord Henry sneered. “One facer is all it will take to unman you.”
“Do you think your father will be pleased to hear of his son’s involvement in a violent scandal?” Alexander asked. “Will news of you attacking me reach the ears of the king? Any gossip about your family—no matter how seemingly trivial—has become the juiciest tidbits to share over and over and over. I am sure more than one person on this street has pulled their curtain back and is watching our exchange with very curious eyes.”
“You think you’ve bested me, Alexander the Galling, but we won’t always meet in such a public place. I will find you again,” Lord Henry snapped.
“I’ll be ready.” Alexander showed not a speck of animosity as he grinned widely.
Lord Henry clenched both of his rather substantial fists, but he did not take a swing at Alexander. Instead, he turned on his heel and stomped up the street. To Georgina’s dismay, he marched up the steps of a nearby townhouse. How had she forgotten that the Duke of Lansberry had a residence so close to Algernon’s? But then again, she never dwelled on those awful months in London.
Deciding to make her own escape, Georgina whirled toward the gate to her half brother’s garden. The front steps were closer, but she couldn’t stroll through the main entrance. Algernon and Anne would certainly cotton on to the fact that Georgina had slipped away for the day.
“Wait!” Alexander called, and Georgina could hear the tap of his cane as he followed her.
She ignored him and kept barreling forward. To her horror, she felt hot tears sting her eyes. She didn’t let them fall, but it appalled her that she had to struggle to keep them in check. She would not let this man make her cry, not when she hadn’t sobbed for years.
“Why did my title trigger this reaction?” Alexander called after her.
Georgina just moved faster. She did not owe him answers.
Reaching the wrought-iron gate, she struggled to unlatch the unfamiliar fastening. As she lifted the metal handle, Alexander appeared at her side. Concern marred his handsome features, and for once, he wasn’t grinning like the famed cats of Cheshire.
“If I did anything to upset you, I apologize, Georgina,” Alexander said. His use of her Christian name sent a new shard of betrayal stabbing through her. He’d made her start to trust him, and she would never forgive him for that.
“You no longer have permission to call me by my Christian name,” Georgina informed him as crisply as she could while yanking open the gate.
His feigned look of hurt was so realistic that she almost faltered. But she didn’t let his falsehoods sway her. Resolutely, she strolled into Algernon’s garden. “Do not follow me.”
“Miss! Miss!” The wan face of Mary, the maid who’d come up with them from Essex, appeared above a bush covered with brown, half-dead roses. She looked as wilted as the drooping flowers. Dark circles had formed under her eyes. Now instead of only looking haunted as she had since before leaving Essex, she wore a panicked expression.
“What is it, Mary?” Georgina asked, concerned by the young woman’s almost palpable fright.
“My lord and lady noticed you were missing. They’re putting up an awful fuss. You must come in straightaway.” Mary glanced back to the house, her voice trembling a bit.
“Will you be all right?” Alexander asked, his voice no longer jubilant but concerned. The man was truly a marvel at manufacturing emotions.
Georgina turned to him, wishing him to perdition. “I will be if you leave now.”
The words weren’t precisely true. Although she would feel a mite better without the betraying blackguard hovering near, his presence might actually calm Algernon. After all, finding that they’d spent the day alone together would be the perfect excuse to force the marriage. But if Alexander could lie, so could Georgina.
“Are you certain?” Alexander followed Mary’s gaze back to the brick facade of Algernon’s home.
“Just go!” Georgina ground out, not needing to act to infuse her voice with desperation.
Alexander hesitated for only a moment longer. “If you need assistance, send a missive to me at the Black Sheep. I will come to you as quickly as I am able.”
Georgina said nothing. She only stared at him coldly until he executed a curt nod. With seeming reluctance, he finally strode away. Georgina watched him, bitterness welling in her chest. She had been a fool to think, even warily, that she had discovered an ally in such a man. Her first judgment had been accurate. He was just another handsome devil like Algernon.
As soon as Alexander climbed into his curricle and drove off, Georgina gripped Mary’s shoulders. “Do my brother and sister-in-law know that you helped me sneak away?”
Mary shook her head and held out a bundle. “Here are your clothes, miss. I can help you put them on.”
Georgina had no lady’s maid of her own. Anne found it an unnecessary expense, especially since Georgina never attended Society events and rarely even visited their neighbors in the countryside. Georgina did not mind fixing her own hair and preferred the simpler, practical clothes that she could don herself. It made her expeditions to her own property much easier.
Mary, who had dreams of becoming a proper lady’s maid, had assisted Georgina in the past whenever she had to attend one of Anne’s dinner parties. It was the reason Anne had decided to bring Mary with them from Essex. Georgina had always liked the previously cheery young woman, and she regretted turning to her this morning when she’d needed help to flee Algernon’s townhouse. The poor dear clearly did not have the temperament for subterfuge.
Fortunately, the garden had a small stand of trees that Georgina could use to shield herself as she changed back into her dress. If she walked in wearing maid’s clothes, Anne would instantly know that Mary had lent them to Georgina. Anne always paid attention to details as much as Algernon overlooked them.
When properly attired in a gown that had been one of Anne’s castoffs, Georgina hurried after Mary to the blue drawing room. Inside, Algernon paced while Anne plunked out a rather angry tune on the spinet. Algernon stopped midstride when he caught sight of Georgina standing in the doorway. Ire washed over his otherwise angelic features, bestowing upon him the look of Lucifer after his fall. He had inherited their mother’s beauty and his father’s stalwart frame. Despite reaching his fortieth year, he had not a single strand of white in his brown hair, and his perfectly formed face remained unlined. He was a man of little worry, but often of great rage.
“Where were you?” Algernon demanded. “You did not have permission to leave my premises.”
“I do apologize,” Georgina said softly. “I must have fallen asleep in the garden while reading. It was such a pleasant summer day that I didn’t awake until now.”
“Balderdash!” Anne slammed down a random set of spinet keys, and a horrible jangle rent the air. At eight-and-twenty, she possessed a regal beauty. No matter what waspish words spewed from her mouth, she always moved with grace. Even now, despite the anger roiling from her, she rose from the instrument’s bench with the elegance of a queen. “I personally helped the staff scour the flowerbeds. You weren’t there. You weren’t anywhere in the house.”
“Whyever does it matter if I took some air?” Georgina lifted her chin. “No one in Society pays me any mind.”
“You cannot go about London unaccompanied!” Algernon stomped over to the mantel and slammed his fist onto the elegantly carved wood. “How can you be so meek, yet so abominably willful at the same time? You shall be the death of me if I cannot marry you off.”
Georgina resisted arching an eyebrow. Was her brother finally about to admit why he’d dragged her to London? “I am too long in the tooth for matrimony.”
“Which is why your reputation must stay pristine!” Anne’s sweet voice rose slightly at the end as she floated toward Georgina like a flower petal carried by the wind, although her words were those of a stinging wasp. “You have nothing but your lineage to recommend you. Your dowry is middling, and you spend all your time reading dusty old tomes. No one wishes to converse to his wife in dead languages.”
“If I am such a burden, just allow me to live in my late father’s house. There is no need to haul me to London in hopes of a match.” Georgina tried to remain calm when she wanted to rage back at Anne. She loathed being reduced to her value on the marriage mart, but that’s all Anne or Algernon ever saw.
“I have arranged a union for you.” Algernon struck his hand against the fireplace again. “The Duke of Falcondale is miraculously impressed that you can trace multiple bloodlines back to the original Norman earls and to William the Conqueror himself. He has been looking for a match for his misbegotten son and heir apparent for almost as long as I’ve been trying to wed you off.”
“What if I don’t wish to marry this man?” Georgina asked.
“I. Do. Not. Care.” Algernon bit out. “This is my decision, and unless you want to be reduced to a diet of bread and water for the rest of your miserable existence, you shall marry him. I will not have you pulling any schemes like you have in the past. You will act the presentable miss for once in your life.”
Algernon advanced on her. His brown eyes glowed with an intense light that she’d never seen in them before. She was accustomed to his anger, but this was something deeper and dangerous. And it frightened her. Involuntarily, she took a step back.
“If he says he is superstitious, do not claim that you were possessed by the ghost of a Roman noblewoman when you visited Herculaneum.” Algernon held up a blunt finger as he began to tick off the ways she had chased away suitors in the past. “When he asks you to sing a lighthearted melody, do not recite excerpts from Plato’s Dialogues in Greek. In fact, do not discuss Plato in any language. After he shows you a precious antique that he spent a fortune to purchase, never tell him it is a fake. And definitely, under no circumstances, should you start categorizing all the piece’s flaws!”
“It really would be best if you just kept your mouth firmly shut, dear.” Anne fluttered near Georgina’s elbow.
“Why is the Duke of Falcondale so eager for his son to marry me if I have so little to recommend me?” Georgina asked the question she’d been wondering. Alexander may walk with a limp, but he was a handsome man and heir apparent to a dukedom. Surely women more elegant and refined than Georgina would agree to marry him. Was Alexander hiding dark secrets?
“That is not for you to know,” Algernon bellowed. “You are not to ask more questions. Go to your room and stay there until I summon you. I will not have you sabotaging this.”
Before Georgina could protest further, Algernon rang for the servants. Two footmen appeared with such alacrity that Georgina realized they’d been standing nearby, waiting for her half brother’s signal. Her disappearance really had upended the entire household.
“Escort my sister to her room,” Algernon ordered. “See that she is properly locked inside and bring the key and any copies directly to me.”
“You’re trapping me in my quarters?” Georgina asked aghast. “This isn’t a fairy tale, and I’m not Persinette.”
“No, you’re definitely not a fair princess,” Algernon snapped as he waved at the servants to take Georgina away, “so don’t expect a prince to free you.”
Georgina knew she had no knight in shining armor ready to do battle for her. Today’s revelation about Alexander had only substantiated what her heart had always known. She was on her own, as she had been since her father’s death. No one was riding to her rescue on a gallant stallion, but if she was imprisoned by Algernon, who would save Percy?
“Please desist in giving me that look, Ruffian Caesar,” Georgina said as her faithful mutt cocked his head to the side while she knotted her bedsheets into a rope. “This escape plan always works in stories.”
Ruffian Caesar snorted, tossing his head dramatically. His floppy ear flipped up and then back down again.
“Yes, I realize I am speaking of fictional tales, but I am sure it has worked. I have no other choice. I am on the second story, and there is no handy tree in the vicinity.” Georgina yanked off another sheet and twisted it tightly before folding it in half to add to her chain.
Her terrier stretched his front paws, his mouth opening into a huge yawn. Clearly unimpressed with their conversation, he began to roll on the floor, his stomach pointed toward the ceiling. He paused mid-wiggle and sent her a mournful look, clearly disappointed by the lack of belly rubs. Sighing, Georgina put down her handiwork and squatted down next to the little rascal to deliver the demanded scritches.
“I know it could be dangerous,” Georgina admitted quietly as her fingers ran through Ruffian Caesar’s curls. “But then, what choice do I have? It has been two days already, and I need to find Percy.”
Ruffian Caesar’s rough tongue scraped against Georgina’s knuckles. She realized that the little dog was probably just thanking her for the scratches, but she liked to think that the gesture was meant as encouragement. Georgina needed support, even the slobbery, canine kind.
Blinking back sudden, unexpected tears, she admitted her biggest fear. “But where do I go, Ruffian Caesar, if I do make it safely to the ground? I cannot return to the Black Sheep, as I do not know if I can trust them. They were all so kind. It is not as if they lured me there, but perhaps I stumbled into their nefarious plans to steal my treasure. Yet, if they kidnapped Percy, why didn’t they simply abduct me when I bumbled through the door? It was obvious that I was there in secret, and that no one knew where I was. I made an easy target who didn’t need to be further duped.”
Georgina stopped talking and petting Ruffian Caesar. Instead, she raised her hands to her face and scrubbed. Hard. “Or am I only searching for plausible excuses because I liked them? Even Alexander had begun to seem tolerable.”
More than tolerable. Unbidden, a memory of their time in the carriage flashed into Georgina’s mind. Once again, Alexander was fixing her with that charming smile of his, a mischievously warm twinkle in his changeable hazel eyes.
Speaking of appellations, may I suggest we use Christian names? It is terribly forward of me to ask, but I can be roguish that way.
Even the recollection of Alexander’s words caused Georgina’s heart to soar and then plummet and soar again. His voice had swept over her with an intimacy that had felt akin to a caress. And she’d melted enough to agree to his request.
Foolish, foolish woman. She wasn’t a young miss anymore and shouldn’t fall for such claptrap.
But her fine intellect refused to cooperate. Instead, her imagination served up an even more disarming remembrance of Alexander fixing her wig. For a moment as she’d stared into his eyes—that curious, compelling mix of green and brown hues—she’d thought he’d lean forward a few more inches and kiss her. And she’d wanted him to. Her whole body had tingled with glorious anticipation, awakening sensations she’d never encountered before.
“But he was just manipulating me. Right, Ruffian Caesar?” Georgina asked, ashamed by the heat pricking her eyes once more.
At the sound of his name, the terrier glanced over his shoulder, his tongue lolling out. A sneeze caught him in just that moment, and his little chin jerked forward.
“Oh, what do you know!” Georgina cried in frustration as she angrily tied another sheet to her makeshift ladder.
The terrier bounced to his curly feet. After three luxuriant stretches, he padded over and bumped Georgina’s knee in a clear demand for more attention. She was just about to give him another pet when she heard a key scrape against the lock on her door.
Frantically, Georgina started to gather her bedsheet-rope. Ruffian Caesar bounded over to the door and plopped down on his haunches, ready to guard or to greet. Still collecting cloth, Georgina glanced nervously at the ornate handle. Judging by the angle of the sun outside her window, it wasn’t time for a meal. Who could be barging in?
Anne stepped into the room, the picture of summer beauty in her sack-backed dress with its cheerful print of small red roses on a yellow background. Although already pale by nature, she’d caked on talc and tragacanth water to achieve porcelain perfection. As fashion dictated, she’d rouged her cheeks and painted her lips into a perfect moue. But instead of a pleasant, genteel expression to match her attire, outrage twisted her visage.
“What is the meaning of this?” Anne demanded, her eyes fixed on Georgina’s makeshift ladder.
“I was bored and found that twisting the sheets calmed my nerves.” It wasn’t a very good excuse, but there really wasn’t a lie to obscure what Georgina had been doing. “It is similar to how you pull the gold threads from your old ballgowns when you require a soothing activity in the evenings.”
“I am not a fool,” Anne said, her tone sweet on the surface but simmering with a poisonous undertone. “You were trying to escape.”
“I—” Georgina wasn’t sure how to defend herself, but Anne didn’t give her another chance. The other woman marched into the room and tried to snatch the bedclothes from Georgina’s hands. However, she was no match for Georgina, who yanked back. With her dainty slippers giving her little traction, Anne skidded across the floor. An excited Ruffian Caesar circled happily. Anne screeched and tried to stop her slide. Unfortunately, or—from Georgina’s perspective—fortunately, Anne lost her balance. She tried pinwheeling her arms, but to no avail. She plunked down on the ground, her voluminous petticoats cushioning the fall but also forcing her stocking-clad legs into the air. For a moment, Anne floundered like a fish as her numerous undergarments formed a veritable sea around her.
“Help me!” Anne shrilled, her voice no longer honeyed. “Help me up this instant!”
Georgina ignored her sister-in-law as she plucked up her terrier. Arms full of bedsheet and squirming canine, she dashed toward the window. Her rope ladder wasn’t long enough to reach the ground, but it would have to suffice.
“My lady!”
At the shocked exclamation, Georgina glanced over her shoulder to see two footmen burst into the room. Unlike with the staff in Essex, she didn’t know their names. One of them extended his hand to Anne while the other glanced at Georgina, clearly unsure how to respond. Turning her attention away from the men, Georgina furiously worked to open the sash. Ruffian Caesar began to bark in her arms, his upright ear perked in excitement.
“Get her!” Anne demanded.
The closest footman grabbed Georgina about her belly, pulling her back across the room. Although he kept his grip relatively gentle and respectful, Georgina couldn’t break free.
“I am sorry, miss,” the young man whispered softly, but despite his words of regret, his arms remained an inescapable prison.
Batting away the other servant’s hand, Anne scrambled to her feet. She no longer looked like genteel sunshine. The panniers under her skirts had slipped about her waist, leaving one hip notably higher than the other. Her nose glowed red from smeared rouge. Like a misplaced mouse’s tail, her velvet beauty patch dangled from her upper cheek.
“Take her to a servant’s room. One without any windows!” Anne didn’t even try to straighten her attire as she shoved her hands onto her hips.
“Will you walk yourself, miss?” the footman holding Georgina asked hopefully, clearly not relishing carrying a struggling woman through the house.
Fighting down a frustrated battle cry, Georgina reluctantly nodded. She wasn’t one of the fierce warrior women at Championess Quick’s, and she had no hope of overpowering even one of the footmen. The young fellow was giving her a chance to retain a shred of her dignity.
“This way, Miss Harrington,” the other servant said politely as if leading her to the parlor for tea.
Still clutching her dog to her chest, Georgina allowed the two youths to lead her through the luxurious main hallways to the narrow, austere servant passageways. Anne followed, stamping instead of gliding regally. Maids carrying buckets and linens squeaked in surprise as the two ladies of the house paraded through the lowly corridors. Finally, the four of them reached their destination.
“Do you wish for us to bring you anything from your room?” one of the footmen asked.
“She is to have nothing, not even one of her precious books or a scrap of paper!” Anne decreed as she lit a candle. “It is enough she has that mutt of hers! Now leave us!”
With final apologetic looks aimed at Georgina, the two hastily retreated. Anne firmly shut the door and whirled on Georgina.
“The Duke and Duchess of Falcondale will call upon us tomorrow, along with their son, Lord Heathford. I came to warn you that I expect you to look and act presentable at the meeting. If you continue to resist this match, you will discover a much worse fate than simply being removed to a small, windowless room in the servants’ quarters.” Anne jabbed her gloved finger in Georgina’s direction, her other hand on her hip. The fact that the desperately elegant lady had assumed a position associated with fishwives revealed the utter depths of her ire. “I will not have you ruining all our plans. Not now.”
“What plans?” Georgina inquired, proud she had enough pluck left inside her to ask such a bold question.
Anne stilled. She might have even paled, but Georgina couldn’t tell beneath all the white and red paint. “Do not fash yourself with trying to comprehend what I meant. You only understand the language and objects of the long dead. Stop trying to interfere with the schemes of the living.”
Georgina ignored Anne’s harsh words, determined to press further. Her sister-in-law seemed to be teetering at the edge of her control, and she wanted to shove her over the precipice. “Why are you so invested in my union with the Marquess of Heathford?”
Anne ignored the question as she stamped over to the door. Yanking it open, she paused at the threshold. “Just know that Algernon and I will do anything to see that this wedding happens even if we must starve you into submission. Your only way out of this room now is through marriage to the marquess.”
With that parting salvo, Anne stomped into the hallway, taking the only candle with her. Georgina sank down onto the small, straw tick mattress on the floor as her sister-in-law locked her inside. Darkness descended over the tiny but clean space. The only light was thin slivers drifting in from the gaps between the door and its frame.
Georgina felt a cold, wet nose poke her cheek, followed by two rough licks. She ran her hand down the curly fur on her dog’s back.
“Oh, Ruffian Caesar, what am I going to do now? I can’t even save myself. How am I going to rescue Percy?”
In the blackness, no answer came. Georgina leaned her head against the rough plastered wall and did her best not to succumb to sobs.