Page 11 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
Since Lady Clifford had mentioned securing a second building, Georgiana had been floating along on visions of a spacious new school with girlish voices echoing throughout, but the numbers hadbetrayed her.
Her lover had proved as faithless and fickle as any other.
She eyed the open book in front of her. Perhaps one more look would reveal—
“My dear child, it’s not good for your eyes to read in such poor light. Take heed, Georgiana, or you’ll end up with a permanent squint.”
Georgiana glanced up from the account book to find Lady Clifford standing in the study doorway, a familiar expression of exasperation tempered with affection on her face. “I’ll fetchanother lamp.”
“Not now, dearest. I need you in my private parlor. We have a visitor.”
“A visitor?” How long had she been poring over the account book? Georgiana glanced at the window and saw darkness pressing against the glass. “Now? It’s the middleof the night!”
“Indeed. Rather curious. You’ll think it even more so when you see who it is.”
Georgiana rose from her chair, her curiosity piqued. Lady Clifford was as calm as ever, her face placid, but there was a rare air of anticipation about her. “Who is it?”
“Not the sort of visitor who’s accustomed to being kept waiting.” Lady Clifford turned, throwing a glance at Georgiana over her shoulder. “Come along, and seefor yourself.”
Georgiana followed Lady Clifford down the darkened hallway and into the cozy sitting parlor she used when she wished to be private. Their visitor was seated in the chair closest to the fire, her back to the door.
“I beg your pardon for the delay, Your Grace.” Lady Clifford took the seat opposite their guest, and gestured Georgiana toward a small settee tucked into the corner.
Your Grace? Georgiana sucked in a quick breath. There weren’t many people in London who could claim such an exalted title, but surelyit couldn’t be—
“This is Miss Georgiana Harley, Your Grace. I’ve asked her to come because I believe she’s just the young lady to assist you withthis business.”
“Of course,” the lady murmured, her gaze catching Georgiana’s as Georgiana hovered beside the settee. “How do you do, Miss Harley? Please do sit down.”
Georgiana wasn’t one to be intimidated by a grand title, but then it wasn’t every day one found a duchess in one’s parlor in the middle of the night. She fumbled an awkward curtsy before dropping down onto the settee with a graceless thump. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”
She’d seen the Duchess of Kenilworth a few times before, but always from a distance. She was younger than Georgiana had realized, her pale face smooth and her hair as yet unburdened by any strands of silver. It was an unusual dark auburn color, thesame color as…
Asher brother’s.
Lord Haslemere, the rogue. How a scapegrace like Lord Haslemere could be the brother of the petite, ladylike creature sitting here with her hands folded daintily in her lap defied explanation. There was a similarity in their features and coloring, but no brother and sister couldbe less alike.
Despite her small stature, the duchess had a regal air that befitted a lady of her station, whereas her brother was a libertine of the first order, and looked every inch the part with his wicked dark eyes, disheveled hair, and that intolerable drawl.
After Georgiana’s encounter with him in Covent Garden three months ago, he’d managed to creep into her thoughts more often than she would have liked. Just when she’d banished the memory of his smirking lips at last, he’d appeared on the doorstep of the Clifford School with Lord Darlington, who’d come to declare his love for Cecilia.
She hadn’t seen the man since then, nor did she wish to. Nevertheless, he persisted in haunting her thoughts.
Why shouldn’t I wish to make you my mistress?
Georgiana’s teeth snapped together as she recalled his mocking drawl. He’d only said that to fluster her. It had worked, too, which made it even more intolerable. She didn’tgetflustered, ever. She didn’t stammer, or fumble or blush for any man, but especially not fora man likehim—
“Her Grace has come hoping we might help her find an old friend she’s been searching for,” Lady Clifford said, interrupting Georgiana’s thoughts. “She hasn’t met with any success on her own.”
“Of course.” The duchess hadn’t seen fit to bring her brother with her tonight, so there was no reason at all Georgiana should be thinking of himnow. “We’ll be pleased to help however we can, Your Grace.”
“The lady’s name is Clara Beauchamp.” A peculiar, wary expression crossed the duchess’s face as the name left her lips, as if she were unaccustomed to speaking it aloud, and feared she’d be overheard.
Lady Clifford’s expression remained carefully blank, but Georgiana recognized the slight arch of her eyebrow, and she knew she and Lady Clifford were wondering the same thing. If this were a simple matter of finding a missing friend, why had Her Grace come to them in the middle of the night, alone? A duchess didn’t sneak about in the darkness unless she had something to hide.
A duchess with a secret, then.How intriguing.
“Miss Beauchamp and I met some years ago,” the duchess went on. “We kept up a correspondence for a time, but then her letters stopped, and I haven’t heard a word from her since. She, ah…she seems to have disappeared.”
