Chapter Nineteen
Georgiana
Georgiana’s breath caught as she looked around the ballroom, taking in the vaulted ceiling painted with cherubs and trailing vines in soft pastels.
Marble columns wrapped in gold leaf rose from the edges of the room, their capitals carved with delicate acanthus leaves that seemed to flutter in the flickering light.
Between them, tall windows draped in midnight blue velvet were pulled back to reveal moonlit gardens beyond, the glass reflecting the warm amber glow within.
Tables draped in cream silk lined the perimeter, their surfaces scattered with white roses and baby’s breath, the petals still dewy from the conservatory.
Crystal goblets caught the light at every angle, throwing tiny rainbows across the pristine tablecloths.
The air itself seemed to shimmer with the heat of so many bodies in motion, perfumed with jasmine and the faint sweetness of champagne.
At the room’s heart, the dance floor gleamed like a mirror-dark lake, its parquet pattern of mahogany and cherry wood polished to such perfection that the dancers seemed to float above their own reflections.
The musicians, half-hidden in their alcove behind a screen of carved rosewood, drew their bows across strings that sang of longing and possibility.
Above it all, three magnificent chandeliers cast light about the room.
She turned to her sister, who looked luminous, her gown of pale sage green tulle catching the candlelight.
The color made her hair gleam like polished copper and lent her an ethereal softness that made Georgiana’s chest swell with pride.
Her baby sister was a beauty. A single pearl nestled in the hollow of her throat, and her gloves were embroidered at the wrists with tiny ivy leaves, a subtle nod to youth and new beginnings.
Cecily practically sparkled as she was led to the floor by a smiling young viscount introduced earlier that evening.
Georgiana stood near the perimeter of the room, gloved hands clasped at her waist. Her soft lavender silk gown felt good against her skin.
The bodice was modestly cut, the sleeves edged with pale silver embroidery that shimmered only when she moved.
A small cluster of violets had been pinned at her shoulder, fitting for a widow still navigating Society’s unspoken rules.
Despite the color, she did not feel like a widow tonight, only a woman.
In fact, she’d been pleased at her reflection in the mirror.
She’d felt beautiful and young, with her hair pinned just so by Mrs. Ellsworth and her eyes sparkling with excitement.
For so many months now, the weight of caring for her sister and mother and the worry about all of their futures had made her feel tired and used up.
Tonight, however, she almost felt the hope of new possibilities.
She turned, catching James watching her from across the room.
Lord help her, he looked devastatingly handsome in a deep charcoal coat with a crisp white cravat, the fine cut of his waistcoat hinting at the strength beneath it.
His dark hair was freshly trimmed, his boots polished to a military gleam.
But it wasn’t his clothes that made her pulse flutter.
It was the way he looked at her. Not with heat or possessiveness.
More respect and admiration if she were to name it.
Their eyes met. Held.
And then, of course, Lavinia arrived, appearing at Georgiana’s elbow in a storm of violet plumes and lime-green satin.
“Don’t you think I did well? Dressing our Lord Ashford?” Lavinia asked.
“I have to agree, Mother. He looks as fine as any gentleman here.”
Her mother smiled, a hint of triumph gleaming in her eyes. “Thank you, darling. That’s lovely to hear. And look at Cecily, dancing as if she’d been to dozens of balls.”
Georgiana’s gaze tracked Cecily’s movements across the floor. “It’s true. She’s graceful and so pretty. And from her full dance card, I would say we’re not the only ones who think so.”
“You’re looking beautiful too,” Lavinia said. “Lord Ashford can’t keep his eyes off of you.”
“Don’t be silly.” She glanced back to see if he remained in the same spot, but he was gone. She tried to ignore the little knot of disappointment that he hadn’t come her way.
“This is going to be a marvelous evening,” Lavinia said. “I’m going to sneak off to play cards with a few of my friends. Do you mind?”
Lavinia was being suspiciously agreeable. What was she up to?
Georgiana smiled tightly. “No, by all means, go and enjoy yourself. You deserve a fun night.”
“Darling, how sweet of you to say.” Lavinia gave her hand a quick squeeze before she turned to head out of the ballroom to the art room, just off the main hall.
But instead of going, Lavinia’s face lit up at the sight of someone approaching from behind Georgiana.
“Oh, Mr. Fane. How delightful to see you again,” Lavinia said.
No. No. No.
Georgiana’s fingers tightened on her dance card, the delicate ivory threatening to snap. She turned slowly, stomach lurching.
Julian drew close, his midnight coat immaculate, his smile sharp as broken glass beneath its polish. “Lady Linley, good evening.” He offered Lavinia a bow before turning to Georgiana. His gaze traveled down her form with deliberate slowness. “Mrs. Fairfax. You are exquisite this evening.”
A droplet of sweat made its way down her spine. She wanted desperately to excuse herself and find James but she knew it was impossible. Not with her mother there and people around to notice.
Lavinia beamed, oblivious. “Mr. Fane, how nice you look this evening.”
“How kind of you, Lady Linley. I’m feeling rather festive.” Julian stepped closer. Too close. The scent of his cologne made her stomach turn.
Lavinia tittered. “I do hope you have time to dance with at least one of my daughters this evening.”
“I shall do my very best,” Julian said.
Lavinia spotted someone she knew and was off before Georgiana could stop her.
“Alone at last,” Julian said, leaning slightly to whisper in her ear.
“I believe Cecily’s about to finish her dance.” Georgiana kept her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “I must go.”
But Julian shifted, blocking her path with practiced ease. “Why must you always run from me?” His voice dropped, meant only for her. “I hoped to find you here tonight. And beg for a dance.”
“I don’t think so,” Georgiana whispered, aware of others around them.
“You know how I feel about you. I’ve no interest in you whatsoever.
The sooner you understand that, the better.
There are plenty of single women here tonight who would love the pleasure of your company.
However, I am most certainly not one of them. ”
“You wound me, Mrs. Fairfax.” Julian placed his hand over his heart.
To his credit, he did seem hurt. What was wrong with this man? Was he truly this delusional? And why her anyway? There were plenty of other women with much fewer complications.
Julian’s eyes glittered with something ugly. “Though I can’t help but wonder if you’re merely playing hard to get. It’s what you did before, after all. Leading me on with those pretty blushes, those stolen moments in the garden. We both know how close we came to—”
“Stop.” The word came out sharp enough to draw glances.
Georgiana forced her voice lower, though fury made her hands shake.
“Whatever fantasy you’ve constructed in your head, it bears no resemblance to reality.
You assaulted me and then refused to leave me alone.
Let me make it perfectly clear. I do not want your company.
Ever. In fact, I do not want you anywhere near me. ”
“Temper, temper.” He smiled, reaching as if to touch her arm.
She stepped back, but her heel caught her hem. For one horrifying moment, she thought she might stumble but then, like a miracle, James appeared by her side, solid as a shield, his hand steadying her elbow with perfect propriety.
“There you are.” James’s voice cut through the noise like a cavalry charge. “Mrs. Fairfax, you promised me this waltz.”
Julian straightened, irritation flashing across his features. “I wasn’t aware men kept dance cards, Ashford.”
James’s expression remained pleasant, but his eyes were as cold as a winter morning in February. “I keep one. For her and her only.” He shifted slightly, his broad shoulders blocking her view of Julian entirely. “If you’ll excuse us.”
“I’ll find you later,” Julian said to her.
James drew closer to Julian, his right fist clenched. “No, you will not find her. You will not harass her this evening. Or any other one, for that matter.”
“And what gives you the right to say such a thing?” Julian asked, eyes flashing with contempt. “You have no hold on her.”
“Neither do you,” James said. “Good night, Mr. Fane.”
Georgiana took his arm, fingers gripping perhaps tighter than necessary. As they walked away, her legs started to shake.
James led her onto the floor. The opening notes of a waltz filled the air, and he drew her into position with infinite care. Through her gloves, she felt the warmth of his hand, steady and sure.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, beginning to move them in slow circles.
“I’ll be fine.” But her voice cracked slightly.
“Look at me.” When she did, his eyes held hers with fierce protectiveness. “He won’t touch you. Not while I draw breath.”
The silk of her skirts whispered against his legs as they turned. His thumb brushed against her palm through the delicate kid leather. Such a small gesture, but it anchored her.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she whispered. “He’s going to be everywhere this Season.”
“And so will I.” He spun her gently, the room blurring into watercolor around them. “I’m not afraid to hurt him if I have to.”
She pressed her lips together, fighting the burn behind her eyes.
“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” He drew her perhaps an inch closer than strict propriety allowed.