Chapter 12
Dear Miss Pace,
I regret not accepting your invitation to dance last night. I fear it was rather shabby of me to abandon you in your time of need. I hope my actions did not cause you to leave the Blakes’s ball early. Hopefully, after your long and eventful evening, you were able to finally get some sleep.
Sincerely yours,
Lady Elizabeth Mortimer
Georgina read over the missive twice. Could it be that Lady Mortimer had seen her concealed in Mrs Gardner’s parlour and recognised her?
Georgina deposited the parchment onto the table and regarded it warily.
This seemed unfathomable. Yet Lady Mortimer’s message carried a cryptic tone.
Perhaps she merely meant to tease her about Prudence.
She remembered the distinct pause before Lady Mortimer had asked Mrs Gardner to lead her from the house. Was it possible she’d wanted to give Georgina a chance to escape?
Twirling the signet ring on her finger, Georgina reflected on everything that had happened over the last week.
She had returned from Cornwall—barely repentant after a minor indiscretion—found herself immediately dragged into a young man’s gambling troubles, and ended up a housebreaker.
All of this, set in motion over her inability to resist helping Arthur, over the way he tugged at her heart with his smile and thick spectacles.
His likeness to her brother meant he appealed to her sympathies in a manner few others could.
Along the way, she had met the curious Lady Mortimer, who appeared immune to Georgina’s flirtation, yet showed her care in the most surprising ways.
Not to mention her confusing and rather inconvenient connection to the gaming house at the root of all -Arthur’s difficulties.
Lady Mortimer attended there regularly, demonstrated a keen interest in Georgina’s claims against Mrs Gardner, and had showed up there in the early hours of the morning to speak to the very same villain.
She had queried Mrs Gardner about her tactics, which suggested an overall innocence in the affair.
She was certainly a contradiction. A contradiction who smelled deliciously of orange blossom and possessed the most attractive forearms in all of England.
The combination of Lady Mortimer’s imperviousness to flirtatious advances and her puzzling link to Mrs Gardner added an intriguing layer to an already complicated situation. Perhaps Georgina should avoid her until all was sorted. Was she willing to do that?
Amongst her other correspondence was a summons from Edmund to meet him at Brooks’s at once, where he wished to debrief his “long-awaited promenade” with one Mr Dalrymple. Georgina arched an eyebrow at this, then took a moment to scribble a brief reply to the Countess.
Dear Lady Mortimer,
Your denial left me wounded to my core. Sleep continues to elude me. I would appreciate any advice on how I may achieve nocturnal fulfilment.
Warmest regards,
Miss Georgina Pace
***
Georgina readied herself to leave for her club, studying her image in the mirror, satisfied she looked well enough. Making a final adjustment to her cravat, she donned her coat and hat, then handed the note to her attendant.
Welcomed inside at Brooks’s, she was escorted through the grand mahogany doors into a long gaming room.
She wandered past assorted wooden benches and leather chairs, where gentlemen, ladies and electora read, played hazard or debated political trends and crises.
She ordered a large glass of her favourite Burgundy and found a free chair towards the rear of the room, near Mr Samuel Leggett.
He appeared to be engrossed in a book which rested on his knees, though he smiled in greeting when she sat down.
“Good afternoon, Miss Pace. A pleasure.”
“Hello, Leggy.” She crossed one leg over the other and lounged back in the chair.
“So glad Lady Ravenscroft found you. Been thinking about it for days.”
Georgina raised a brow.
“Glad she found you at Solitaires. Was searching high and low for you. Reminded me of someone. Read about it once. Wouldn’t give up.”
Georgina glimpsed longingly across the room at one of the other sofas that had since become vacant. “Reminded you of who, Leggy?”
“A shepherd, I think it was.”
“Lady Ravenscroft reminded you of a shepherd?” Georgina repeated, wondering where he was taking her.
“Yes. Ninety-nine sheep, no less. But wouldn’t stop until he found the last one.” Leggy smiled, eyes beginning to glisten. “A moving story of resilience and determination. Saw that same stubborn dimple in Lady Ravenscroft’s chin when she was seeking you out.”
Georgina’s mouth fell open. “Are you likening Lady Ravenscroft to a character from the Holy Bible?”
“That’s the book!” Leggy agreed with a cheerful clap. “Aren’t you a clever puss to identify it so readily? Picked it up for the first time recently. Quite the tale. Long, though.”
Georgina was spared from further comment by Edmund, who waved at her from across the room. Colour suffused his cheeks. Georgina wondered whether his suggested walk with Mr Dalrymple had been a positive one. As he got closer, she detected a glimmer in his eye.
“Telford! Join us, won’t you?” Leggy gestured to the chair beside him.
Edmund collapsed onto the seat with a dramatic sigh.
“Did you have a pleasant stroll, Edmund? He has been in Hyde Park with Mr Lawrence Dalrymple,” Georgina added for Leggy’s benefit.
“The most blissful walk I have ever enjoyed.” Edmund’s boyish grin spread from ear to ear.
Georgina doubted whether he could be trusted to interpret any young man’s true intentions. “Are you sure that Mr Dalrymple means to woo you, Edmund?”
He rolled his eyes impatiently and turned to Mr Leggett. “Leggy, you’re a chap.”
Mr Leggett adjusted himself in his chair. “Made no secret of it, Telford. Always have been a man. Nothing against lorians,” he added, referring to gentlemen who were born ladies. “But I’m not one. Ask my mother. She’ll confirm it.”
Georgina suffocated a groan. Edmund should have recognised that Leggy was in a literal mood. Now Edmund was at a crossroads: Would he surrender the subject valiantly or persevere recklessly?
He chose the latter. “If you encouraged another chap to come to the Vauxhall masquerade and said it was ‘bound to be an evening full of romance and intrigue’—that would be a pretty obvious invitation, would it not?”
Georgina imagined Mr Dalrymple talking to Edmund with enthusiasm about Vauxhall, citing the diversions it offered and oblivious to the passion he was kindling within his would-be lover. She remained silent.
Leggy’s brow creased. “My dear Telford, I am supremely grateful for the thought, but I have a prior engagement.”
“What?”
“Can’t get out of it, I’m afraid. My old aunt is holding a small musical soiree, and I pledged to be there. No one enjoys them. I’ve told her that before. Many times, in fact. But she ignores me. She invites the same group every time, mainly old ladies. Smell like herrings.”
“And you do not enjoy these?” Edmund murmured sympathetically.
“No, not at all. Don’t like any fish, in fact,” Leggy responded, screwing up his nose in distaste.
Georgina rubbed her face with her hand.
“Either way, that doesn’t signify. She expects me to be there,” he continued.
“Must spend the night circling the rooms, being charming to the ladies. It’s a dashed dull affair, Telford.
But honour-bound to go, you see. Otherwise, I’m sure I might try to accommodate you. Not keen on the romance, though.”
“No, no, no. I am not inviting you, damn it!” Edmund exclaimed.
Leggy looked relieved. “Well, that is good to hear. Very fond of you, Telford, but no wish for you to press me into attending the masquerade for an evening of romance and intrigue. Not something I should like.”
“I’m not pressing you into anything,” Edmund defended. “If you invited a chap for such an evening, would that mean you had taken a shine to him?”
“Well, that would be a shabby thing to do, I must say.”
This startled Edmund. “Why so?”
Georgina leaned back, resting her arms across her chest. This had all unfolded just as she suspected it would.
“Well, if I had to pick a sex, then I suppose I must prefer ladies, Telford. Wouldn’t ask another chap. Stands to reason,” Leggy said, his integrity impugned. “I never promised such a thing. Never taken a shine to fellows, either. Or electora, if it comes to that.”
Georgina had remained quiet throughout this exchange, as she could see no benefit adding further confusion to what had already spun out of hand. However, they appeared to have passed a point of no return.
“Edmund,” Georgina pleaded in a firm voice. “Let it be now.”
“If you were committed to helping me, George, you might ask your old friend Lady Ravenscroft about Mr Dalrymple’s inclinations. Then we might know for a certainty,” Edmund pouted.
“Ah, the shepherdess herself!” Leggy interjected joyfully.
“What shepherdess?” Edmund asked.
Georgina cursed.
She took her leave, abandoning Edmund and Leggy to their dizzying conversation. She needed to inspect the faro box.