Page 43 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
“No, I’m just…” Georgiana trailed off, and threw herself into the chair across from Lady Clifford’s. The back of her gown would be all wrinkles by the time she got up, but her legs felt wobbly. “I detest parties, and I’m terrible at them. I’m bound to make a mess of it tonight. If only Emma were here! She’d do the thing splendidly, and thegown fitsher.”
“Actually, my dear, I was just thinking that gown looks very well on you. The fit isn’t as bad as you imagine, and the colorflatters your—”
“Hair?” If Lady Clifford said one word about gold threads, Georgiana was going to scream.
Lady Clifford smiled. “I was going to say your skin, but it looks very well with your hair, too. You’ve such an elegant figure, Georgiana. Perhaps we should dress you in silk gowns more often.”
“Heaven forbid it.” Georgiana forgot the weakness in her legs and leapt up from her chair to check her reflection in the pier glass on the wall opposite the fire. A pale-faced lady stared back at her, her lips tight, and her ordinary—and not at all gold-threaded—brown hair piled on top of her head in a mockery of a fashionable chignon.
She looked like a spinster playing at being a debutante.
“I don’t think I…that is, perhaps it would be best if Lord Haslemere went to Lady Archer’s by himself, after all.” He’d tried to discourage her from attending, but Georgiana had been determined to do her duty by the duchess after that dreadful call this afternoon. But now, with her stomach in knots and her bosom threatening to vanish into her ill-fitting bodice, she couldn’t recall why she’d been so insistent.
“You made a commitment to the duchess, Georgiana.”
Lady Clifford’s tone was mild, but a glance at her reflection in the mirror revealed her eyebrow was inching up. That quirked eyebrow was a sure sign her ladyship disapproved.
Well, of course she did. When Georgiana returned from Grosvenor Street this afternoon, she’d confessed to Lady Clifford she’d let Lord Haslemere insinuate himself into his sister’s business, with disastrous results. They’d agreed the best way for Georgiana to make amends was to continue on with the task the duchess had assigned her—finding Clara Beauchamp.
Now here she was, trying to take the coward’s way out. She turned away from the mirror with a sigh. “It’s just that no one will be surprised to seehimthere. He won’t attract any undue attention, whereas I—”
The sound of a carriage pulling up outside interrupted her. Lady Clifford stepped to the window, pulled back the drapes, and peeked outside. “It’s too late.” She let the drape drop back into place and turned to Georgiana with a calm smile. “He’s here.”
Every one of Georgiana’s instincts urged her to flee up the stairs and not come back down until Lord Haslemere was gone, but her knees had gone all wobbly again, and she could already hear heavy footsteps thudding up the steps toward the door.
“Oh, dear. Quickly, Georgiana. I forgot to tell Daniel Lord Haslemere was coming to fetch you, and it sounds as if he’sanswered the—”
“What do ye want, Haslemere?”
“Ah, Brixton. Always a pleasure to see you. I’vecome to fetch—”
“It’s the middle of the night. Whatever ye want, it can waituntil morning.”
If Lord Haslemere was cowed by Daniel’s threatening tone, one couldn’t tell it from his provoking drawl. “No, I’m afraid it can’t, Brixton. I want Miss Harley.”
I want Miss Harley?Scorching heat flooded Georgiana’s cheeks at those words, and she felt a strange tug deep in her belly.
“Fetch her for me, will you?” Lord Haslemere added in a careless tone. “There’sa good fellow.”
There was a brief, frozen silence, then Daniel growled, “Nay, my lord. Yer business with the lass can waituntil morning.”
“On the contrary, Brixton. The business I have with Miss Harley is much better conducted at night.”
The sounds of a scuffle followed this shocking announcement, as if Daniel were trying to shove Lord Haslemere out the door, and Lord Haslemere was shoving back.
Lady Clifford gave Georgiana a little push. “You’d better go now, my love, before they come to blows, or one of them tosses the other down the steps.”
Georgiana didn’t move. Not because she wanted to see Lord Haslemere thrown down the stairs, precisely, but then again, it might be preferable to an evening atLady Archer’s—
“Shame on you, Georgiana.” Lady Clifford took Georgiana’s arm and tugged her toward the entryway. “Come with me this instant, before Daniel cracks open his lordship’s skull.”
Lord Haslemere didn’t appear to be worried about his skull, or any other part of himself. He and Daniel were standing nose to nose—well, nose to neck, as Daniel was the size of a barouche—each holding the other’s gaze without blinking.
Lord Haslemere was either very foolish or very brave. In this case, there wasn’t much difference between the two. “Good evening, my lord.” Georgiana insinuated herself between the men before fists could start flying.“Shall we go?”
“Ah, Miss Harley. Here you are.” Lord Haslemere’s gaze drifted over her, taking her in from the top of her head to the hem of her skirts. “You look ravishing this evening.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, his mouth curving in a sensuous smile. “Don’t bother to wait up for us, Brixton. I imagine we’llbeverylate.”
Georgiana’s mouth fell open. Lady Clifford smothered what sounded like a laugh, but Daniel’s fists clenched, as if he were preparing to wring Lord Haslemere’s neck. “Oh, I’ll be waiting for the lass, my lord. Ye can be sure of that. If I find a single hair on her head out of place, ye’ll be answeringto me for it.”
