A Daring Liaison. Gail Ranstrom
a little breathlessly. “I have come to town to meet with my aunt’s factor and solicitor to settle matters regarding her estate.”
He noted a quick flash of pain in her eyes, just as quickly hidden—genuine grief for her aunt, then, but only scraps for her husbands. And Adam Booth? What had she felt for him? “I am sorry for your loss … es, Mrs. Huffington.”
A sudden spark in her eyes told him she’d caught his deliberate mocking.
He became aware of the other ladies watching them with interest, and that he was still holding Mrs. Huffington’s warm, delicate hand. He released it and gave her his best devil-may-care grin as he bowed and stood aside to let them pass. A fair beginning. Having been reintroduced by his sister, Mrs. Huffington was unlikely to suspect the real reason he was about to show a singular interest in her again.
But he’d been surprised by the sudden flash of anger that surfaced at his memory of that kiss—a kiss so remarkable he’d been about to propose. A kiss he still remembered seven years later. A kiss, as it turned out, that had been nothing but deceitful.
Chapter Two
Georgiana looked down at the darkened city street outside her window. There were a few trees in the small square across the way, two or three benches and a grassy patch for children to play. A little piece of the country in London. The thought made her a bit melancholy. She’d lived most her life in Kent, shut away with her guardian. Lady Caroline’s tragic disfigurement had isolated her from the world but for her brief and successful husband-hunting forays for Georgiana. But she could not regret those quiet, idyllic days. In fact, she yearned for them. A life in the countryside free of the controversy and scandal of her circumstances seemed the most desirable of all goals. The moment she could conclude her business, she’d hasten back to Kent and retire there.
London was too unsettling. Too demanding. Too dangerous.
She leaned against the window casement and pulled the lace curtain aside to watch the flicker of the lamppost below and try to organize her mind for the days ahead. But all that came to her was Charles Hunter. Her first love. Her greatest shame.
She’d met him years ago, in her come-out season, and she’d thought him terribly handsome and quite amusing. She’d made the mistake of allowing him to kiss her in a garden one summer night, and that had been her undoing. That kiss had been deeply stirring and had led to more than she intended.
Upon their reintroduction this afternoon, she’d confirmed he was quite the best-looking man she’d ever met. But now there was nothing of his youthful openness left. He was still tall and dark, like his brothers, and he had the same startling violet eyes as his sister, but he seemed more guarded, more … dangerous. What had happened to him during the intervening years?
Back then, he’d been her favorite, and she’d thought she was his. But after that kiss he’d turned moody and began to avoid her. She wondered if she’d done something wrong, commited some gaucherie, or somehow offended him. When she’d complained, Aunt Caroline informed her that some men were fickle, and lost interest when a woman came too easily. Charles Hunter, she was told, was a rake—the sort who liked the chase more than the capture. Had the kiss been his capture? Humiliated, she’d begun to avoid him, too.
Now? Well, he was Lady Sarah’s brother, and she would likely be encountering him on occasion. But she was seven years older and wiser. She could hold her own with a man like Mr. Hunter. His subtle challenge and the ever-so-slight insult this afternoon aside, she could be as polite as he. Yes, warm and polite on the surface, cool and distant beneath—that was the way to deal with a man of his mettle. Surely ignoring his little barbs would be easy for her now that she had some measure of sophistication and experience.
The mantel clock struck the hour of eleven just as a knock sounded on her door. Sanders, her footman, entered carrying a small silver tray bearing two letters. “Mr. Hathaway said these came for you a bit ago, madam. I think one is from that solicitor fellow.”
Her solicitor? Oh, pray he had found time for her in his schedule. “Why did he not bring it to me when it arrived?”
“Mr. Hathaway was on his way out to fetch blacking for the stove and andirons, madam. He left them in the foyer and Clara told me to bring them up.” Sanders placed the little tray on her night table.
Blacking? Where would her butler find blacking so late at night? Georgiana sighed as she realized her household had become used to functioning by itself during her mourning. It might take her a while to get matters back in hand.
Sanders added wood to the fireplace and turned to Georgiana. “Will that be all for tonight, madam?”
“Yes, thank you. Please send Clara up.”
He gave a crisp bow before leaving her alone in her room. She looked around and sighed. In London three days, and they’d just managed to settle in. She hadn’t thought to send servants ahead to prepare for her arrival. Aunt Caroline had always tended to such matters. The house had needed airing, the linens washing, the furniture dusting and the floors polishing. But now she was ready for her stay, no matter how long. The only room they hadn’t opened was Aunt Caroline’s. She was not quite ready for that yet.
How odd, she thought as she turned to the four-poster bed and removed her apron. She and Aunt Caroline had talked endlessly about everything in the world, but they’d never talked about this—about the small details of her aunt’s final wishes.
The threat of tears burned the backs of her eyes and she blinked rapidly to hold them at bay—she had promised herself that she was done with them. She’d cried oceans of tears in the past seven years, but her deepest sorrow was for Aunt Caroline.
She removed her lace cap, tossed it on her dressing table and pulled the pins from her tidy bun. The weight of her hair tumbled down her back and she ran her fingers through it to remove any remaining hairpins as her maid bustled in.
“Ready for bed, madam?”
“Yes, Clara. I think we are all exhausted. Please tell everyone to sleep late.”
The plump woman smiled. “Aye, madam. Won’t have to tell them twice, I vow.”
Georgiana laughed. Sleeping late was a treat Aunt Caroline had always offered after an unusually long day of work. “If you will just help me with my stays, I shall do the rest myself.” She undid her tapes, lifted her work dress over her head and turned her back to the maid.
Clara went to work loosening the laces of her corset until it fell away, leaving Georgiana only in her chemise. “Aye, madam. I think we’re all settled in, like. Everyone is excited to be back in town. Why, even Mr. Hathaway has a spring in his step.”
Her staid butler? Imagining Hathaway excited about anything was nearly impossible.
“Cook and me think he has a sweetheart.” Clara giggled. “He was sad to leave last fall and he perked up the minute we got here.”
And now he was going out at night to buy blacking. Georgiana smiled. She wondered if she’d have to hire a new upstairs maid soon. She hoped Hathaway’s sweetheart was not a cook, because Mrs. Brady was truly gifted in the kitchen.
Clara picked up the brush but Georgiana took it from her and sat at the dressing table. “Go on to bed, Clara. I’ll finish up. And mind you, lie abed in the morning.”
Clara bobbed a curtsy and practically ran for the door before Georgiana could retract the offer. She began to pull her brush through her hair and then set it aside to open her little jewelry case.
Silly to look again, she knew. It hadn’t been there yesterday and wouldn’t have magically appeared today. But she’d have sworn she’d left the little opal ring here last fall. Aunt Caroline had given it to her on her sixteenth birthday and it was precious to her. Even more precious now that Auntie was gone.
She closed her jewelry case with a sigh and turned to the letters on her tray. She broke the unfamiliar seal on the first one—not from her solicitor but from Grace