Chapter Sixteen
In Georgiana’s bedroom, Havers had already done her mistress’s hair in the most flattering of styles that suited her rich chestnut curls to perfection.
While most of her hair had been piled up in a chignon towards the back of her head, loose curls framed her face and longer ones tumbled down the back of her neck in artificial confusion.
She’d also applied the faintest trace of makeup, something neither of them had been allowed to do under Aunt Petunia’s regime.
Although without her glasses the image Georgiana was gazing at in surprise in the mirror was a trifle blurred.
“You look breathtaking,” Harriet said, on a gasp, as Georgiana turned round for her inspection.
Forced proximity for the last few hours and the taking of a light supper together in the bedroom had brought about a much greater degree of intimacy between the two young women.
She shook her head. “He can’t help but be smitten by you. He just can’t.”
She now knew about Georgiana’s intention to impress Fitz and was in wholehearted agreement with the plan.
“Of course, I know he has the reputation of being a rake, but Mama has always said that what he needs is the love of a real woman.” She paused.
“Although she says that about every rake and considering what happened between my grandmother and grandfather, you’d think she might view it in a different light.
She was eight when Grandmama moved back to Denby Castle, so she must have seen how difficult being married to a rake was, and how love wasn’t the cure-all solution. ”
Georgiana, with no inhibitions about speaking in front of the faithful Havers, chose to ignore the remark about Harriet’s grandparents, and instead, made a mock shocked face. “You might not have noticed, but I am a ‘real woman’.”
Harriet refused to be put off. “You know very well what I mean, and you most definitely are a ‘real woman’—more so than anyone I’ve ever met, I think.
” She frowned. “I’ve never told anyone this, but I have the distinct impression Fitz is too afraid to truly love someone.
Anyone. Afraid of getting himself hurt. My theory is that it’s the reason he flits about…
I mean flitted about between so many different women over the years.
Mama thinks I don’t know any of this, but of course I do.
I may be what she calls a bluestocking, but I’m not an idiot.
Plus, I’m writing a novel, and that makes one think of the sort of characters one’s friends and relations have.
It makes one much more observant, I find. ”
Georgiana’s ears pricked. This might well be why he seemed so reserved with her.
Did he perhaps think she was still holding a torch for the departed Alexander?
If love had ever been anything to do with how she’d felt about that young man.
However, she was carrying around with her something that could be seen as the fruit of love.
Only now she was convinced it had not been love on either her part or Alexander’s.
Although that did not in any way mean Fitz knew she felt like that.
Her whole two-day relationship with Alexander had all been too hurried, and so fleeting now she’d almost managed to forget it.
Now she looked back on it, she could only wonder if he’d been motivated by money.
Her money. Well, almost certainly he had been.
A sobering thought guaranteed to cool any remaining ardor she might have been nursing for him. Not that there was any.
But then again, wasn’t Fitz just motivated by money himself?
She bit her lip and frowned. She could hardly have it both ways.
Surely both were tarred with the same brush?
Fortune hunters. But of the two, Fitz seemed to be the one with the most gentlemanly conduct.
Didn’t he? He certainly had made no attempt to force himself on her nor even to kiss her, which had been how everything with Alexander had begun.
Or did he just not find her attractive? There was that disturbing possibility.
“Don’t look so worried,” Harriet said, interrupting her gloomy thoughts.
“I may have vowed never to marry but that does not mean at all that I have no experience with gentlemen. Mama has pushed enough of them under my nose in the last five years to form a battalion in the army. If she could have forced me to marry one of them, she would have. Thank goodness we live in this enlightened age where girls cannot be forced up the aisle with a man they don’t like.
” She patted Georgiana’s hand. “There have been a plenty I didn’t like, a few I like as friends, and absolutely none I would have considered marrying, even though more than one or two declared themselves, mendaciously no doubt, as being enamored of me.
So I know what love looks like, I think.
And I’ve seen the way Fitz looks at you when he thinks you’re not looking. ”
Georgiana’s heart gave a little anxious flutter. “You have?” She swallowed, almost afraid to ask. “In what way is that?”
“As though he’s longing for something.”
Georgiana wrinkled her nose. “Well…he is a man. I think I can guess what he’s longing for.” She certainly knew what Alexander had been longing for.
Harriet huffed. She knew all about the non-consummation of this marriage by now.
Georgiana had not been able to keep it from her and she’d vowed to repeat it to no one.
“No, not that kind of look. I’m most familiar with that kind—not that a man has ever looked at me like that.
Or I don’t think they have. But I’ve seen them look at some of the prettier girls in that way, and some of the older women who have reputations for being loose with their favors. ”
“Loose with their favors?” Four years under Aunt Patience’s tutelage had not prepared Georgiana for the excesses of the ton.
Harriet nodded. “There are quite a lot like that. Married women, so not afraid to be…caught out. It’s said that one particular duke, whose name I dare not share, cannot be certain his children are all his. Not even his heir.”
“Good heavens.” So her own fall from grace wasn’t quite so unusual as she’d thought.
Although this was one piece of information she hadn’t shared with her new friend.
It would not have been fair to Fitz to reveal that.
It was their secret. She caught Havers’ eye and gave a brief nod.
“Why don’t you sit down, Harriet, and let Havers style your hair for you now? I’ll watch.”
From the sort of instinct the best servants have, Havers styled Harriet’s hair with a good dose of decorum, and Harriet professed herself more than contented.
“A little less plain than my normal choice, with a few more curls. Mama will have a fit of the vapors and think I’ve decided to choose a husband at last.” She giggled, sounding more girlish than before. “She will be sadly disappointed.”
“Pretty as a picture, Miss,” Havers said. “Now, let me help you both into your gowns and put the final touches to your appearances.”
Harriet dressed first, having made sure the bedroom door was locked so her mother couldn’t surprise her not wearing that pink monstrosity. Instead she’d chosen a pretty but plain blue gown with a decorous neckline and minimal embellishments.
“That color suits you well,” Georgiana said with satisfaction. “You should always wear it.”
Harriet wrinkled her powdered nose. “I care nothing for my appearance, as you well know. But I do care about yours. Hurry up and put on that gorgeous gown. I can’t wait to see you in it.” She smiled at Havers. “And I can’t wait to see Fitz’s face when he sees you in it.”
Downstairs the guests had been arriving in a steady stream, greeted in the wide hallway by Marianne and William with Fitz in attendance.
With no sign of Georgiana yet, he was beginning to feel a bit awkward.
This was, after all, a combination of her coming out into society and the announcement of their marriage, and with no bride on show, he had to wonder what people would think.
This was not helped by the fact that Marianne had invited at least five of the women who had been his mistresses at one time or another, including the most recent one, the wife of an elderly earl.
She’d cast alluring and covetous eyes over him when she’d arrived on the arm of a man young enough to have been her son.
That he was not her son, Fitz knew for a fact.
He had to feel a little chagrined that he’d been replaced so easily.
Fitz glanced over his shoulder in the hopes he might ascertain his wife’s whereabouts.
To no avail. In the ballroom the orchestra was already playing with gusto and people were dancing with similar energy.
Candles flickered in every alcove and on every chandelier, and the sound of chatter rose towards the high ceilings.
Where was she? Marianne did not appear to have noticed her absence, or, at any rate, had not thought it something to worry about.
Suppose she had decided she couldn’t come down?
Had nerves got the better of her? Perhaps Harriet, who was renowned for not liking social gatherings, had persuaded her to absent herself.
Or she might be ill. Sick. Because of her condition.
His mind was racing through all sorts of disturbing visions when he became aware that a silence had fallen over the crowd of guests filling the wide hallway.
He turned his head and looked where they were all gazing.
At the top of the wide marble staircase, bathed in golden candlelight so that she stood out against the shadows of the gallery, stood a vision of perfect loveliness.
Those were the only words of description that found their way into his head. Perfect loveliness.
And she was his.