Chapter 20
“Wherein the ton holds its breath.”
“I’ve brought you a sensible man this time, Georgiana.”
Looking up, Georgiana found Seymour advancing on them once more and felt sorry for the old lady who’d barely had a moment’s peace all evening.
Georgiana had been rather hoping for a little rest herself after having been danced off her feet for the past two hours.
But beside Seymour was a tall and terribly gaunt young man with spectacles.
He seemed rather serious and ill at ease in his own skin, as if not quite sure what to do with his height.
Bending to greet her, he remained a little stooped, as if his lofty frame might offend somehow.
“He’s shy but kind, and as rich as Croesus.” Seymour hissed in her ear. “Miss Bomford, may I present Lord Nibley.”
Georgiana curtsied and looked up, to her amusement finding the poor man had blushed scarlet, but there was a kindly and intelligent pair of brown eyes behind the rims of his wire spectacles.
“I am very happy to meet you, my lord,” she said, smiling at him.
“The pleasure is mine,” he said, and then swallowed hard.
They stood in rather awkward silence for a few minutes while Georgiana racked her brain for a topic of conversation.
“It’s very ...”
“Do you ever ...”
They laughed as the two of them had finally spoken at once.
“I do beg your pardon,” Georgiana said. “Please continue.”
Lord Nibley shook his head in a rather shamefaced manner. “I’m not sure it would be worth the effort. I’m afraid I don’t have much talent for this sort of thing.”
“If you are a sensible man, as Lady Russell said, I hardly doubt it. A great deal of talk about nothing very much cannot be something you aspire to, surely?” she said, grinning at him.
He let out a breath and seemed to relax a little. “Oh, but I do,” he replied, his expression quite earnest. “I would give anything to be able to converse with ease at ... at these gatherings but I’m afraid the knack of it escapes me.”
He seemed to prove the point by falling silent again and Georgiana cast around once more.
“What do you usually do when you’re not in town?”
His face brightened perceptibly, and she hoped she might have struck gold.
“Rocks,” he said, with some enthusiasm.
Georgiana smothered a grin and wondered if she had a guardian angel with a twisted sense of humour. Somehow, she doubted he was speaking of golden rocks.
“Yes, geology you see, fascinating subject,” he said, with real passion lighting his eyes now. “Do you know anything about it?”
“Not a thing, no,” she admitted, wondering with some amusement if she was going to be able to keep it that way.
She began to lose the will to live sometime after he uttered the words rock strata and began a detailed explanation about the different kinds of fossils to be found in each layer.
Eventually he fell silent again, apparently having become aware he was monopolising the conversation by the look of embarrassed chagrin on his face. Taking pity on him she tried again.
“Do you have any friends here tonight, my lord?”
He shook his head and clasped his hands behind his back with a sigh, putting her strongly in mind of a gloomy heron and then brightened as a thought occurred to him. “Oh, yes. Of course, the Marquess of Beaumont is here. He’s a devilish fine fellow, we were at school together.”
Georgiana chuckled. “Well, devilish I can believe.”
Lord Nibley gave her a rueful smile and scratched his nose. “He does have something of a reputation I suppose. Sindalton is here too of course. Usually if Beau’s around Sin’s not far behind ... been saying that since Eton, like brothers they are.”
Georgiana’s heart seemed to give a little stutter in her chest and her stomach clenched.
“S-Sindalton?” she stammered, staring up at him in horror.
“Yes, of course, I saw him earlier, he ...” Lord Nibley stopped in his tracks, staring at her and mirroring the horrified look in her eyes. “Oh, good God. M-Miss Bomford, I never even considered. I b-beg you to forgive me ... it never crossed my mind.”
She forced a smile and shook her head though her face felt flushed and rather hot and the atmosphere in the room had become oppressive at the idea she might have to face him at any moment. “Please, don’t think anything of it, my lord. It ... it was just a shock.”
Lord Nibley stooped a little further, his voice pitched low and full of concern. “You didn’t know he was here?”
She shook her head, seeming unable to form the words.
“S-silly of me,” she murmured.
“Not at all,” he said, suddenly sounding rather forceful. “I have to say I think you’re ... you’re magnificent.”
Georgiana looked up at him in surprise and he blushed a little at his rather forward statement and pushed his spectacles further up his nose.
“I can’t imagine the courage it must take to face all of these awful people, Miss Bomford. Though I for one consider you totally blameless and anyone who thinks otherwise is nothing but a narrow minded, scandal monger,” he said, with some considerable heat.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself, dear Percy,” drawled an amused voice and Lord Nibley turned as Beau arrived, smiling at Georgiana with a knowing look in his eyes.
“Though I don’t think Miss Bomford has anything to worry about.
From everything that has been said in my hearing, she is a great success.
” He adopted a thoughtful expression as though he was trying to recall the comments.
“Ah yes, Miss Bomford is perfectly charming, quite unaffected, delightful manners and quite as she ought to be ... oh, and terribly, terribly beautiful.”
There was an intense look in his eyes as he finished his little recital and Georgiana was forced to look away from him ... and straight at the tall and striking figure of a man she thought she had known very well.
She held her breath and stared.
He had his back to her, but Georgiana knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was him.
She had the strangest feeling that the world had frozen around her, and her lungs had seized with it.
She clutched at her throat as panic fluttered in her chest and was suddenly aware of a warm hand clasped gently around her wrist.
“What is it, love?” Beau asked, his voice quiet but urgent. “Who have you seen?”
“The m-man I thought was you. H-he’s here,” she stammered, knowing he was one of only two people in the world she could admit that to. Beau’s head whipped around, and he scanned the crowd.
“Where?” he demanded. “I swear I’ll kill him.”
“No.” She shook her head, unable to take her eyes from him though her vision began to blur. Beau followed her gaze and caught his breath just as he turned and made his profile visible.
“That’s him?” he demanded, with such rage in his voice, she caught her breath. “The tall fellow with dark hair, next to the lady in violet?”
She nodded, too miserable to deny it. Seeing him again brought his lies and betrayal rushing back to her and she was torn between wanting to cross the room and slap his face and running away as fast as she could. In the end she did neither, too frozen to react at all.
“I’ll bloody kill him,” Beau raged, glaring at him.
“Who is he?” she asked, her voice trembling as she looked up into his furious blue eyes.
“That, madam,” he replied, with cold anger glittering in his eyes. “Is Sebastian Grenville, the Duke of Sindalton.”
She didn’t have time to react, to have the luxury of assimilating this horrifying piece of information, because at that moment the duke turned around and their eyes met.
For a moment, behind his obvious shock, she thought she saw something in his eyes, relief, happiness even ... and then he took in the fact that Beau stood beside her, and that the eyes of everyone in the room were watching them.
The moment stretched on, stretched so thin it was as though the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Overwhelmed she didn’t know what to do, how to react until she heard Beau’s voice.
“Look at me. Now!” His voice was low but so forceful she could do nothing but obey him and her eyes snapped to his.
“Take my arm,” he said, holding her gaze, his voice calm now but brooking no argument.
Once her hand was settled upon his sleeve, he covered it with his hand and pulled her in the opposite direction.
“We shall take a little walk,” he said, keeping his voice soft.
“And everything will be just fine. Now look at me and laugh.”
She looked up at him, blinking, too bewildered to understand what was happening. “Laugh?” she echoed, wondering if he’d run mad.
He ducked his head a little to whisper in her ear. “Everyone is watching us,” he said. “They are watching your reaction. Do not give them the satisfaction. Now laugh.”
He looked back at her and winked as though he’d just said something rather shocking and she forced a laugh that sounded a little too close to hysteria for comfort.
“Good girl,” he replied, nodding with approval. “We’ll get through this, don’t you worry,” he said, patting her hand. “And then I have every intention of killing my best friend.”
***
Sebastian forced his feet to move, to take him away from the scene that had just played out.
It couldn’t be.
It simply couldn’t be.
His head was seething, like his brain was full of writhing snakes and he just ... couldn’t ... think!
He forced his way through the crush, unheeding of gasps of disapproval, trying to block out the malicious whispers as the gossips fell upon the latest juicy morsel he’d provided for their entertainment.
He’d been determined to cut The Siren, to turn his back on her and show the ton that the Duke of Sindalton did not approve of her arrival among their select ranks.
But it had been she who had cut him. And it hadn’t been the woman he’d imagined seeing here.
She had been brassy and knowing and far too vulgar for anyone to wish to know.
No.
That hadn’t been her at all.
It had been his own sweet, Georgiana, the girl he’d been determined to run back to tomorrow because his heart was breaking without her. Except it couldn’t be because if it was that would mean ...
The facts and the dreams he’d built up around the woman he’d fallen for collided and spun in his head. She couldn’t be the daughter of Lady Dalton. The woman was an heiress and Georgiana was a nobody, a doctor’s daughter with no name and no fortune.
Unless ...
He ground to a halt, one hand leaning on the wall beside him for support because the pain of it was so fierce, he could hardly draw a breath.
Unless she had known who he was from the start.
Unless she had planned it to avenge herself on him and his family. Perhaps she hadn’t meant to, the way they’d met had been improbable after all but once she’d realised ...
But he’d said he was Beau. The thought occurred to him now that Beau must know what he’d done? and nausea roiled in his gut. Good God.
And Beau was determined to marry her.
No.
No. No! What had he done?
What had she done?
Blind with rage and shame and heartbreak he strode down the stone steps to the foyer and out into the night.
***
Beau forced her to dance with him and with Lord Nibley, who was terribly kind and gallant though he trod all over her toes and was the most dreadful dancer she had ever encountered.
Between the two of them and Céleste and Seymour who had sought them out the moment they’d realised what had happened, she was sheltered as far as they could manage.
They spoke to her with care, moving her from one spot to another and away from the eager chattering that seemed to follow her like a plague of locusts, chirruping in her ears so loud she thought she might lose her mind. But through it all her mind spun around the impossible truth.
He was the Duke of Sindalton.
The son of the man who had shot her father and ruined her mother, ultimately leading her to her death.
Had he known? But how could he have known who she was when she hadn’t known herself?
No. She dismissed the idea. It was too inconceivable that he should have met her by chance, guessed who she was and set out to ruin her . ..
Wasn’t it?
But then she remembered that he hadn’t ruined her at all, though he could have done. He could have taken her because she’d been too wrapped up in him to refuse him anything. And yet he hadn’t.
He hadn’t taken that from her which was irreplaceable, and he’d said it was because he loved her. But why? Why had he pretended he was Beau when he was a wealthy duke?
The thoughts swirled in her head until finally, she was ushered into the carriage and taken away into the blessed darkness of the night.
She allowed the gloom of the street to swallow her up and take her back to a place where she could go and tend her wounded heart in private and try to consider what on earth she could do to mend it.