Impetuous Innocent. Stephanie Laurens
to be done. Instant solutions are likely to come unstuck. I’ve always found it much more useful to consider carefully before committing any irrevocable act.”
Listen to yourself! screamed his inner voice.
Dominic smiled sweetly. “I suggest you spend an hour or so with my housekeeper, while I consider the alternatives.” The smile broadened. “Believe me, there are alternatives.”
Georgiana blinked. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. She hoped she hadn’t jumped from the frying-pan into the fire. But he was turning her over to the care of his housekeeper, which hardly fitted with the image revolving in her mind. There was another problem. “Charles might follow me.”
“I can assure you this is one place Charles will never look. And I doubt he’d pursue you to London. You’re perfectly safe here.” Dominic turned and tugged the bell-pull. Then he swung back to face Georgiana and smiled reassuringly. “Charles and I don’t exactly get on, you see.”
A pause ensued. While Miss Hartley studied her hands, Dominic studied Miss Hartley. She was a sweetly turned piece, but too gentle and demure for his taste. A damsel in distress—Duckett had been right there. Clearly, it behoved him to help her. The cost would be negligible; it would hardly take up much of his time and might even afford him some amusement. Aside from anything else, it would presumably annoy Charles Hartley, and that was a good enough reason in itself. He determinedly quashed his inner voice, that advocate of self-protection at all costs, and returned to his agreeable contemplation of Miss Hartley.
The door opened, and Georgiana came slowly to her feet.
“My lord?”
Dominic turned. “Duckett, please ask Mrs Landy to attend us.”
“Yes, m’lord.” Duckett bowed himself from the room, a smile of quiet satisfaction on his face.
AFTER A PLEASANT and reassuring hour spent with Mrs Landy, Georgiana was conducted back to the drawing-room. The motherly housekeeper had been shocked to learn of Georgiana’s plight and even more moved when she discovered she had missed her breakfast. Now, fortified with muffins and jam and steaming coffee, and having been assured her two servants had been similarly supplied, Georgiana faced the prospect of her interview with Lord Alton with renewed confidence. No gentleman who possessed a housekeeper like Mrs Landy could be a villain.
She smiled sweetly at the butler, who seemed much less intimidating now, and passed through the door he held open for her. Lord Alton was standing by the fireplace. He looked up as she entered, and smiled. Georgiana was struck anew by his handsomeness and the subtle aura of a deeper attractiveness that owed nothing to his elegant attire, but derived more from the quality of his smile and the lights that danced in those wonderful eyes.
He inclined his head politely in response to her curtsy and, still smiling, waved her to the wing-chair. Georgiana seated herself and settled her skirts, thankful she had this morning donned one of her more modish gowns, a grey kerseymere with a fine white linen fichu, edged with expensive Italian lace. Comfortable, she raised expectant eyes to his lordship’s dark-browed face.
For a full minute, he seemed to be looking at her and thinking of something else. Then, abruptly, he cleared his throat.
“How old are you, Miss Hartley?”
Georgiana answered readily, assuming him to be considering what employment might best suit her years. “Eighteen, my lord.”
Eighteen. Good. He was thirty-two. She was too young, thank God. It must just be his gentlemanly instincts that were driving him to help her. At thirty-two, one was surely beyond the stage of lusting after schoolroom chits. Dominic smiled his practised smile.
“In light of your years, I think you’ll find it will take some time to discover a suitable position. Such opportunities don’t grow on trees, you know.” He kept his manner determinedly avuncular. “I’ve been thinking of what lady of my acquaintance would be most useful in helping you. My sister, Lady Winsmere, is often telling me she pines for distraction.” That, at least, was the truth. If he knew Bella, she would leap at the opportunity for untold distraction that he intended to offer her in the charming person of Miss Georgiana Hartley.
Georgiana watched Lord Alton’s face intently. Thus far, his measured statements made perfect sense, but his patronising tone niggled. She was hardly a child.
“I have written a letter to her,” Dominic continued, pausing to draw a folded parchment from his coat, “in which I’ve explained your predicament.” His lips involuntarily twitched as he imagined what Bella would make of his disclosures. “I suggest you take it and deliver it in person to Lady Winsmere in Green Street.” He smiled into Miss Hartley’s warmed honey eyes. “Bella, despite her occasional flights of fancy, is quite remarkably sane and will know precisely how you should go on. I’ve asked her to supervise you in your search for employment, for you will be sadly out of touch with the way things are done. You may place complete confidence in her judgement.”
Relief swept over Georgiana. She rose and took the letter. Holding it carefully, she studied the strong black script boldly inscribed across the parchment. Her fingers moved across the thick, finely textured paper. She felt oddly reassured, as if a confidence placed had proved to be well founded. After her problems with Charles, the world seemed to be righting itself. “My lord, I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve been more help than I expected, certainly more than I deserve.” Her soft voice sounded so small in that elegant room. She raised her eyes to his, smiling in sincere gratitude.
Unaccountably irritated, Dominic waved one fine hand dismissively. “It was nothing, I assure you. It’s entirely my pleasure to be able to help you. Now one more point.” He hurried on, strangely unwilling to bear more of Miss Hartley’s gratitude. “It seems to me that if Charles is out there scouting about he’ll be looking for your carriage, with your coachman atop. I’ve therefore given orders for you to be conveyed to London in one of my carriages, together with your maid. One of my coachmen will drive you and will return with the carriage. After a few days, when Charles has given up, your coachman will follow you with your coach. I trust such an arrangement is satisfactory?”
Georgiana felt slightly stunned. He seemed to have thought of everything. Efficiently, smoothly, in just one short hour he had cleared the obstacles from her path and made all seem easy. “My lord, you overwhelm me. But surely—you might need your carriage?”
“I assure you my carriage will be…better used conveying you to London than it otherwise would be,” Dominic responded suavely, only just managing to avoid a more subtly flattering selection of words. God! Dealing with an innocent was trying his wits. A long time had passed since he had engaged in social discourse with a virtuous young lady of only eighteen summers. It was too abominably easy to slip into the more sophisticated and seductive modes of conversation he used almost exclusively to females these days. Which, he ruefully reminded himself, was a definite reflection on the types of ladies whose company he currently kept.
With another dazzling smile, Georgiana Hartley inclined her head in acceptance. At his intimation, she fell into step beside him, gliding towards the door on tiny, grey-slippered feet.
Still bemused, and with the feeling that events were suddenly moving rather faster than she could cope with, Georgiana could nevertheless find no fault with his arrangements.
Duckett met them in the hall with the information that the coach stood ready.
Dominic could not resist offering her his arm. With gentlemanly courtesy he conducted her to the coach, pausing while she exchanged farewells with Ben, surprising everyone, Ben included, by breaking off her words to give him a quick hug. Then Dominic handed her into the luxuriously appointed coach, wherein her maid was already installed, and stood back. Duckett shut the door firmly. The coachman, Jiggs, gave the horses the office. The coach pulled smoothly away.
Dominic Ridgeley stood on the steps of his manor house, his hands sunk in his pockets, and watched his coach roll out of sight. Then, when he could no longer see the swaying carriage roof, he turned to go inside, pausing to kick at a piece of gravel inadvertently,