“In what way?” Having already seen the view out the windows over the gardens to a small lake in the distance many times, Cristabel made herself comfortable on a large chair covered in yellow velvet and put her feet up on the light brown leather ottoman.
Constance turned and leaned back against the wall. “By compromising her.”
“I know for a fact he will not do any such thing.” Cristabel was glad she’d had a frank conversation with her son about his duties toward Georgie. “Frits has made him promise he will not.”
“Very well then.” Lucinda sat on the chair Constance had abandoned. “We must engage in a concerted effort to bring about a marriage between the two of them. What do we know about this house party?”
“What are you thinking?” Constance moved to the sofa on Cristabel’s other side.
“I think it would not be a bad thing for Lord Turley to have a little competition for her hand.” A smile hovered around Lucinda’s mouth. “If we knew who was going to be there we might be able to arrange—oh, some little machinations such as happened with Kit to bring him to the point with Mary.”
Cristabel remembered the story about Georgie’s older brother when he and his eventual wife were in Scotland. The friends with whom they were residing decided to find a gentleman to make Kit jealous. He and Mary wed shortly thereafter. Cristabel was glad for her foresight. “I did have a conversation with the dowager Lady Turner, and she sent me a list of the guests. The gentlemen who will be staying at the house are the Earl of Bolingbroke, the Earl of St. Albans, the Marquis of Montagu, and Viscount Barfleur. The Earl of Lytton and Viscount Bottomley will be going over for the entertainments.”
Constance leaned forward. “Lytton. I know his aunt.”
Lucinda’s brows came together. “Is she not the sour woman with gray hair who is always complaining about everything and everyone?”
“Yes. Lady Witten.” Constance nodded. “I remember a story—it must be five years ago or more now—Lytton had contracted a marriage, but before the wedding could take place the lady’s father died. Lady Witten told him if he married the young lady she would withhold his inheritance.”
“He must have obeyed her.” Cristabel did not think much of a gentleman who would jilt a lady. Still . . . “Why is she in such a powerful position?”
“The earldom has never been wealthy,” Constance explained. “Lytton’s mother was a considerable heiress, but her grandfather had made his money in trade. His father was apparently not good with finances, and the estate is still in need of funds. The marriage to the lady had been arranged by Lytton’s mother, who was a good friend of the lady’s mother. She was in Bath for her health when Lady Witten intervened. Apparently, Lady Witten’s father left a great deal of money to his grandson if he married a lady of whom his aunt approved. You see, he had not approved of his son’s marriage.”
“And her ladyship did not approve of the young lady her nephew was to have wed?” Cristabel asked. This all sounded a bit Machiavellian.
Constance raised her brows. “She did not approve of the means of the father’s death.”
“Ah. Now I understand.” There must have been a rumor that the gentleman had committed suicide. Cristabel shook her head. It was disgusting how some people played with the lives of others.
“You are saying,” Lucinda said, “that Lytton will be looking for a wife. I must admit that after hearing he jilted a lady, I do not want him around Georgie.”
“Neither will Lord Turley.” Constance smiled smugly. “It might be just the thing to inform Lady Turner that Georgie is still looking for a husband.”
Lucinda appeared thoughtful for a moment. “A hint in Lytton’s ear?”
“What more do you know about what Lady Witten wants?” It seemed to Cristabel that there must be something else going on. “One would think that a woman as controlling as her ladyship would have already selected a wife for her nephew.”
“Indeed.” Constance nodded. “She has grown tired of Lytton’s inability to find a wife and has decided upon a lady.”
“And will the lady be at the house party?” Lucinda asked.
Constance turned to Cristabel. “Which ladies will be there?”
“I have no idea. I was only interested in the gentlemen. And as the party will begin this evening, does it really matter? I have arranged for us to visit the dowager Lady Turner. We will be able to discover who is there after we arrive.”
“Excellent.” Constance inclined her head. “I shall look forward to it.”
Cristabel was as looking forward to it as well.
* * *
Georgie looked at herself in the mirror and made a face. “I shall be happy when I can wear colors other than white, yellow, and light green.” The only exception was her red riding habit and only because she did not ride in Town. “I wonder if my mother will make an exception for next Season.”
“You will have to ask her,” came her maid’s noncommittal reply.
Or if she married.
Georgie had never been happier that she had trained her mare to kneel than she had been today. The feel of Turley’s hands around her waist sent her senses scurrying. It was too thrilling and tempting, and made her want to throw herself into his arms. She would like to think that she had enough love for both of them, but that was a poor way to enter into a marriage. And the time she had spent with him today made her wonder just how well she actually knew him. He seemed different. Lighter. As if he was not being weighed down by responsibilities. Was it the difference between his Town persona and the way he was in the country? Or had he put a distance between them because he had already decided he did not love her? Or would not allow himself to love her. Yet if that was the case why the difference in his behavior now? She stifled a sigh. If only she knew what to do. When she had first heard about the house party, Georgie had decided to forget Turley and get on with her life. But now that he was here she could not stop herself from hoping he would change his mind about loving her. Fortunately, her grandmother and the duchess were either already here or would be soon. She had received a short note informing her of their pending arrival.
