Chapter 16
“Wherein an imposter is discovered.”
Georgiana surveyed the chaos laid out before her with mounting panic and clutched at her footman’s arm.
“Oh, Thomas, we must get him back!”
“Yes, miss,” the man replied with a frown before casting himself into the fray.
Georgiana ran to the grand staircase and stood on tiptoe and tried to see if she could find any trace of her wretched dog.
A moment later she found him, enthusiastically engaged in trying to liberate a hamper from a very red-faced man who was just as enthusiastic in trying to hold on to it.
“Oh no!” she muttered in horror, before running across the room and hoping to grab hold of the idiotic creature.
Too late. A moment before she arrived the clasp on the hamper ripped apart in his vigorous jaws and a multitude of cold meats, cheese, dried fruits, and, heaven help them .
.. Scotch eggs, went flying over the red carpeted floor.
Conrad was in heaven.
As far as her misbegotten dog was concerned it was raining manna from heaven and he ran around snaffling up the goodies as fast as his fervent nose could seek them out.
“Oh dear, I’m really most desperately sorry,” she said, approaching the red-faced man with caution as he looked like he would suffer an apoplexy at any moment.
He turned on her with undisguised rage in his faded brown eyes. They flashed with righteous indignation beneath bristling eyebrows as he found someone on whom to unleash his wrath.
Georgiana took a breath, awaiting her fate as the short, stout fellow drew a breath and prepared to vent his spleen, when the Adonis who had caught her just moments earlier stepped up to her.
“If you would allow me,” he murmured in her ear, before bestowing her with a devastating smile which he in turn brought to bear on the old man about to tear her off a strip.
“General Denton,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Well, I say, what a chance that it should be you my wretched hound has set upon. I am most dreadfully sorry. Dear, dear, what a to-do! But never fear, I will have someone replace your hamper forthwith, and what’s say we pop in a nice bottle of burgundy to go with it, as an apology you understand. ”
Georgiana watched with astonishment as her handsome young hero deflected each furious attack from abused shoppers and turned it into something that somehow became the most charming anecdote for them to chuckle about with their friends.
Standing back at a safe distance she couldn’t hear what was said but indeed everyone seemed to know him.
Thomas returned Conrad to her with a grimace which she had every sympathy with, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the amusing scene in front of her.
By now a group of ladies who had wanted Conrad’s head on a platter were laughing and flirting with the Adonis in the best of spirits.
Once every complaint had been dealt with and every ruffled feather smoothed to a nicety, Georgiana found herself standing outside the shop facing her heroic rescuer.
“Well, sir, I don’t know what to say,” she replied in all honesty. “I can never thank you enough for your intervention. I fear to think what might have happened if you hadn’t stepped in.”
“Think nothing of it,” he said, once more employing that devastating smile to good purpose. “I am a great animal lover and it would have been a shame to put a period to the life of such an intrepid canine.”
“Idiotic creature,” she sighed, looking down at her dog with chagrin.
“Oh, come, I’m not that bad.” She laughed in surprise as a pair of bright blue eyes twinkled at her with amusement. “But now,” he added, with mock seriousness. “After our great adventure, will you not do me the honour of giving me your name?”
Georgiana went to open her mouth and then paused. It was only too clear that this man, whoever he was, was a member of the ton.
He was exquisitely dressed, with everything from his carefully arranged hair to his cravat and boots, of the latest fashion.
Far from being a dandy however, he was dressed with taste and restraint, a large sapphire pin winking in his perfectly tied cravat the only sign of obvious extravagance.
Taking a deep breath she realised she would have to face this reaction sooner or later and reluctantly took his proffered hand.
“I am Miss Georgiana Dalton, Sir,” she replied, a little breathless as she waited to see disgust flicker in those beautiful eyes. She did see something there, surprise certainly and then curiosity, but not disgust.
“Well, well, so you are the Siren,” he whispered.
She stiffened immediately and tried to pull her hand free, but he held it tight. “Oh, please forgive me, that was ungallant wasn’t it. I did not mean to call you so, only that everyone is speculating about The Siren. I assure you I of all people would never hold your mother’s sins as your own.”
She unwound a little at the sincerity in his eyes. “Thank you, Sir, but I still do not have your name.”
“Good Lord, where are my manners today?” he replied, shaking his head with bemusement. “The trouble is after one look at your beautiful face I have quite forgotten it I assure you.”
She arched one eyebrow at him, and he grinned at her.
“Too much?” he asked with a look of such innocence she couldn’t help but laugh at him.
“Certainly, too much,” she nodded, trying hard not to look too obviously amused. Whoever he was he was the most outrageous flirt.
He gave a heartfelt sigh and then bowed to her. “I am Charles Stafford, the Marquess of Beaumont. But you, my dear, can most certainly call me, Beau.”
For a moment she just stared at him, before anger bloomed. Whoever this charming creature maybe he had no right to be going around and pretending he was someone he was not.
“Oh really?” she said, her tone obviously scathing. “You’re Beau Beaumont?”
The look on his face was one of deep consternation as he answered. “Yes, I am. Is that a problem?”
Returning a look of disgust, she simply replied, “I imagine it might be, for the real marquess.” Not wanting to pursue a conversation with someone who was at best a loose screw and at worst, quite possibly mad she bid him a cool, “Good day,” and turned on her heel.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t about to be shaken free so easily and set off after her.
“Am I to understand,” he asked, keeping stride with her quite easily. “That you do not believe I am who I purport to be?”
“You have it in a nutshell, sir,” she replied with a haughty sniff.
To her surprise he gave a bark of laughter. “How intriguing,” he said, showing no inclination to leave her alone.
“Please sir,” she replied, stopping in her tracks. “It is most improper that you follow me about town in such a manner when I have no idea who you are. If you know of my circumstances, then you must know I have the utmost need for propriety and so I must bid you good day!”
To her annoyance he ignored this piece of good sense and carried on walking beside her.
“I do see,” he said, with obvious sympathy. “Probably more than you realise, but the difficulty is this.” He stopped, and by gently grasping her wrist forced her to stop as well. “I really am the Marquess of Beaumont.”
To her horror he reached into a pocket and removed a silver case and withdrew a calling card which he presented to her.
Georgiana looked at the elegantly engraved card and the name of the Marquess of Beaumont stared back at her, mocking her and her own foolish naivety.
For the man she had fallen for could have been anyone.
He had clearly only meant to toy with her affections and had given her a false name so she would never be able to trace him.
And of course, who better to blame than Beau Beaumont, the most notorious rakehell in all of England.
She blinked back tears and willed herself not to cry as she heard his concerned voice filter through the shock.
“My poor dear, you look quite pale. Look at this, fortuitously we are right outside Gunter’s. Won’t you come in and have a cup of chocolate until you feel more the thing. Come now, it can be quite unexceptionable with your footman to chaperone us.”
Blindly she allowed him to lead her from the street and for Thomas to take care of Conrad who was behaving like a meek little lamb now the devil was full of scotch eggs.
She gave a little hiccupping laugh, somewhere between amusement and the depths of sorrow but could do nothing to protest as Lord Beaumont guided her to a seat and ordered her chocolate.
It was with acceptance that she heard his order replied to with a brisk, “Right away, Lord Beaumont.” Just in case she’d been in any doubt.
Indeed, by the time she was half way through her chocolate she felt a little more able to meet the man’s eyes. Lifting her own she looked up and found him watching her with concern.
“Ah, there you are,” he said, his voice quiet. “Feeling a little better?”
She nodded and tried to smile at him, though this seemed a tremendous effort. Her heart and mind were full of all the memories and dreams that had sprung up since the autumn, and now to find even her memories were constructed upon lies was almost more than she could bear.
“I can’t imagine what you think of me,” she murmured, looking down into her cup once more.
“Don’t be foolish, child,” he said, scolding her with a mild tone. “I think perhaps you have been ill used, but I strongly doubt you have anything to reproach yourself for.”
She gave an unsteady huff of laughter and then covered her eyes with her hand as tears threatened again.
“You know, I am most terribly discreet when the need arises,” he said, and looking up into those blue eyes, she believed him.
But then she had believed another man too, she had believed every word he’d said.
He sighed at her continued silence. “Am I to take it you have encountered a man who told you he was the Marquess of Beaumont?”
She nodded, she owed him some kind of explanation for her extraordinary behaviour after all.
“And I think perhaps ... you were ... fond of this gentleman?”
She looked up at him but could say nothing, but it appeared he could read the answer in her eyes clearly enough.
“Oh, my poor child,” he said, his eyes full of warmth and such sympathy that she felt she would dissolve into tears and tell him all. It took a great deal of effort not to do just that as she pushed what remained of her chocolate aside.
“Can you tell me anything about him?” he asked, his expression intense. “As I feel the urgent desire to have a rather short conversation with the bas-- fellow.”
She bit her lip and shrugged, shaking her head. She didn’t want to speak about it anymore and for whatever ridiculous motive, she didn’t want to get him into trouble. Whoever he was. Though why she owed him a shred of loyalty she couldn’t fathom.
“I will find out,” the marquess warned, the dangerous glint in his eyes only too evident.
“You have been very kind, my lord,” she said, trying to hold on to her composure and keep her dignity intact. “But I should be getting back. I will be missed if I’m away any longer.”
He nodded and got to his feet, taking her back outside. “Would you like me to escort you home?” he asked.
“No, thank you. You have already been so very kind, and Thomas will look after me. Besides,” she added with an apologetic expression. “It probably wouldn’t be wise.”
“No, perhaps not,” he replied with a rueful grin.
“But we will meet again, Miss Bomford, and I promise you this much, I will do everything in my power to make you forget there was ever another Beau Beaumont ... or ever could be.” He gave her a roguish smile and bowed, before leaving her with Thomas to walk back to Mayfair.
***
It was obviously quite clear to Céleste that something was wrong the moment she got home, but to her credit she said nothing. Instead she helped her to her room and closed the curtains, instructing Georgiana to lie down upon the bed and sending her abigail off for a cloth soaked in vinegar.
Georgiana didn’t attempt to try to explain or make excuses.
She didn’t want to lie to her friend and any attempt at the truth right now would only result in tears.
Though all she truly wanted was to be left alone to indulge in a really serious cry.
While they waited for her abigail to return Céleste rubbed a little lavender oil onto her wrists and temples, talking silly nothings in French that Georgiana couldn’t understand but found soothing.
Once the abigail had returned, the cloth laid carefully on her forehead, and Georgiana made as comfortable as Céleste could make her, her friend took her hand and gave it a squeeze
“Don’t reply to me,” she said, giving her a sweet smile.
“I don’t know what ‘as happened and you don’t need to tell me right now.
But later, when you feel a little better .
.. if you want to talk to someone ...” She leaned down and kissed Georgiana’s cheek.
“It is a new thing for me, you see, to ‘ave friends. But I promise you I am trying to be very good at it, and anything you say to me ... I will tell no one else. Not even Alex if you don’t want me to. You ‘ave my word.”
With a last reassuring pat of her hand, Céleste got up and went to the door.
“Just call if you need anything or want me to come back, Chérie.” And with that she closed the door quietly behind her.