Chapter 14
Georgina sat partially reclined on one of two large, pink velvet sofas with smooth mahogany trim, set off to the side of Mem Lavigne’s main parlour.
She had removed her coat, loosened her cravat and unbuttoned her black waistcoat.
With one leg outstretched, she crossed the other leg up so that her ankle rested upon her thigh.
This allowed her to use her knee to support her hand, which held her glass of port.
A robust fire flickered nearby, and one of Mem Lavigne’s scantily clad young men plucked at a harp, enhancing the relaxing ambience.
Sarah and Colt sat across from Georgina. They had sought refuge here, following a rather insipid ball they both attended.
“We were certain we might see you at Lady Preston’s soiree tonight,” Sarah said with a sigh. “Aside from the dancing, they were playing whist for penny stakes. It was rather droll.”
Georgina gave an imperceptible shudder. “I have no interest in gambling presently, not even for penny stakes,” she replied, thinking back to the damned faro box secreted in her desk at home.
“Mem Lavigne will be disappointed.”
“Young Miss Coombes was there,” Sarah went on. “Declining the offer of dances with many suitors, just so that she might be available for Colt.”
“And did you dance with her?” Georgina quizzed, with a look of mild interest.
“Good grief, no,” Colt replied.
“Indeed, such a move would be far too premature,” Georgina teased. “Having offered her a sampling of your services last night, it behooves you to ignore her for at least a week, to pique her interest.”
Sarah flashed Colt a disapproving look. “Eventually, Colt, you will find yourself forced to marry one of these young women. And I daresay it will serve you right when you find yourself shackled to a pretty little goosecap.”
Colt grinned.
“No, he will not,” Georgina answered for him. “He will sooner be called out by an enraged parent and bleed to death on a misty heath than relent in such a dull way.”
“I always take good care not to be found in compromising situations by parents and the like. And I am always open about my intentions. There is never a breach of promise involved, I assure you,” Colt said. “You, George, know how important that is. How is Prudence, by the way?”
“She is none the worse for our encounter in Cornwall and appears to be now happily established with Lord Ravenscroft.”
Sarah regarded her serenely. “Although she worked very hard to secure a dance with you last evening. You did your best to avoid her, if I am not mistaken.”
Georgina scowled, fiddling with the signet ring on her hand with her thumb. “Lady Mortimer expressed her disapproval of my conduct with Prudence last night, then practically threw me into her arms. So, there is no cause to read me another lecture now.”
Colt’s brows snapped together. “Lady Mortimer is extremely priggish. I should not think she would be to your taste at all. And yet—?”
Sarah rolled her eyes.
Georgina had no interest in defending her friendship choices to Colt. “Lady Mortimer amuses me. Just because she supported Sarah in stopping you from ravishing Miss Coombes, I hardly think she is priggish.”
Colt and Sarah exchanged meaningful looks. Georgina felt her temperature rise, as it often did when the conversation turned to Lady Mortimer.
“Enough of this nonsense from you both,” Georgina chastised them. “I wish you will have a care, Colt. For while you jest about it, dabbling with innocents can have significant implications, and your luck cannot be in forever.”
He grinned in self-satisfaction. “I always have a care to avoid, ah . . . significant implications.”
Georgina suspected he hinted at the more intimate methods he adopted to avoid illegitimate offspring. “A little conscience would become you, Colt.”
He laughed. “Who is reading the lecture now? I believe I hear the pot calling the kettle black.”
Georgina cast him a withering look.
“Did you steal back those vowels yet, my girl?”
Sarah scowled. “Steal?”
“You lobcock,” Georgina muttered.
“You would not steal from Mrs Gardner?” Sarah demanded.
“She said she would. If she hasn’t already. She planned to do so last night,” Colt added.
If she did not possess so much respect for Mem Lavigne’s establishment, Georgina would have hurled her glass in Colt’s direction. She expected Sarah to round on her in a tirade of reproaches. To her surprise, she glared at Colt instead.
“And you knew about this?”
The smug smile dissipated from Colt’s face like smoke in the air. “I—I couldn’t stop her.”
“Did we not agree that Georgina needed to be encouraged towards settling down?”
It was Georgina’s turn to take umbrage. “What?” She could hear that her voice had risen to a pitch much higher than she normally spoke at.
Both Sarah and Colt had the grace to look guilty but did not respond to the question.
Lottie’s buxom figure sauntered over to the group at this moment, offering to refill their glasses. She came to Georgina last and lingered.
Georgina glanced up and beckoned her to accept the seat beside her. At least she could rely on Lottie not to ambush her, unlike her other friends.
Lottie discarded the decanter she held and curled up next to Georgina willingly.
It did not seem to bother her that the lime-green, translucent robe she wore left little to the imagination, and that both Sarah and Colt could make out every inch of her well-curved body from where they sat.
Just as well—Georgina was not the possessive sort.
Fortunately, both of her friends were discreet.
“You joining me at the Vauxhall masquerade, George?” Colt changed the subject.
“Of course,” Georgina agreed, allowing Lottie to take her arm so that she could stroke it up and down with her skilled fingertips. Normally, she might enjoy such physical intimacy. This evening, the touch left her feeling empty. “I should like that very much.”
“Pace!” a deep voice bellowed from one of the alcoves as a disheveled man tumbled out. He staggered over to them, pointing an accusing finger towards Georgina.
The three friends looked up at him with varying expressions of curiosity and bewilderment on their faces. Lottie appeared unfazed.
“You!” he shouted. “You have been with my wife, damn you!” His slurred speech suggested he had taken too much wine.
“Very likely, if she has to put up with a husband like you,” Georgina replied.
Sarah’s eyes widened. “Georgina!” She stood and went to the gentleman to place a calming hand on his shoulder.
Lottie snorted and bit her lip to quell a grin.
“Brazen minx. She’s been with my wife.”
“Who is he?” Georgina asked Colt quietly, wrinkling her nose.
“Lord Phillip Dawson. Resides in Albemarle Street,” he replied.
Georgina returned a knowing nod, confirming the fellow had not mistaken the matter.
Sarah directed a long-suffering look at Georgina. “A misunderstanding, Georgina. Surely? You and Lady Dawson are simply very good friends, are you not?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. She is a very good friend of mine,” Georgina agreed.
Fortunately, thanks to Sarah’s sensitive and diplomatic nature, Lord Dawson stumbled away from Georgina without further fuss. Sarah bestowed him into Mem Lavigne’s tender care for further attention.
Georgina watched her friend’s return, marvelling at how easily she managed to deescalate irate partners. “It’s a wonder, as you never fall into such scrapes yourself. But you are so skilled at managing these things.”
Sarah sighed. “I have spent many years talking both you and Robert out of difficulties. I am quite used to it now.”
With a grin, Georgina reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “I am sorry we are such a burden to you.” If only Sarah would find happiness for herself. Then perhaps she would not feel so responsible for the two of them.
“We could do with you working here, Mrs F,” Lottie chimed in. “The scuffles you might help us avoid with that syrupy tongue of yours.” She added a cheeky wink.
Georgina gave Lottie’s behind a playful little smack. “Never you mind her syrupy tongue!”
***
Sometime later, Georgina spied an attendant murmuring something to Mem Lavigne, who came over and excused the interruption. “Forgive me, Miss Pace, but I have a visitor for you, waiting below. She is unknown to me but craves admittance to speak with you.”
“Curious. Who is it?”
“The Countess Mortimer, Miss Pace. Shall I tell her ladyship that you are not receiving?”
Colt made an exaggerated grimace. “Yes, damn it.”
Georgina cast him an annoyed look while her own heart rate accelerated. What would make Lady Mortimer track her down here, of all places?
“No, thank you. I will vouch for her. Please, show her up directly, Lavigne.”
Sarah’s brow lifted in apparent surprise.
“Priggish,” Colt hissed at Georgina.
“Be damned, Colt.”
Some minutes later, Lady Mortimer, having divested herself of her cloak downstairs, came into the parlour with Mem Lavigne.
She wore an elegant, rich blue satin gown with black beading.
A regal black plume pinned her stylish coiffure into place.
She scanned the room, and when her gaze rested upon Georgina with her companions, she hesitated.
Georgina had not tried to disengage Lottie, who draped herself over her arm and curled one knee over Georgina’s lap.
“Forgive the intrusion, Miss Pace,” Lady Mortimer said, dipping her head in a dignified nod. “I see I have interrupted you at an inconvenient time. Perhaps I should call upon you tomorrow at your home?”
“I suspect you must have some pressing need to speak to me if you would seek me out here, Lady Mortimer. Stay a while. Sarah and Colt were about to take their leave.” She directed a significant look at them both.
Colt did not move, but Sarah agreed. She smiled at Lady Mortimer and held her arm out to Colt.
Grudgingly, Colt drained his glass and stood up. He hooked his arm through Sarah’s, shook his head, and escorted Sarah through the maze of tables and chairs out of the chamber.