AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“That would be most ungracious of the duchess. I do not believe it to be so,” his mother rebutted, craning her neck to view the entrance. An elbow poked into his side, and he glanced down at Lydia.
“You seem tense, brother. Could it be you are anticipating the duchess’s presence, as well?”
He gave her what he hoped was a black scowl, and she giggled. She looked so beautiful and expectant tonight, Rhys was glad the shadows that normally haunted her eyes were missing. He lightly chucked her under her chin, and it was her turn to scowl.
“I’m no longer sixteen, you know.”
“Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Hardcastle,” Lord Pottinger announced, pride evident in his tone.
Silence dropped over the ballroom as the guests seemed to hold a collective breath. Georgina strolled into view, her smile cool and reserved. His sisters were bound to be disappointed, for she was not dripping in diamonds and rubies as they had hoped, but she was dressed in the heights of fashion. She wore a fashionable dress of vibrant yellow silk, which accentuated her slight but curvy figure. Her hair was piled high atop her head in intricate curls, and a single strand of pearls encircled her throat.
She was lovely…and his heart stumbled in his chest.
Her gaze scanned the room, and pleasure lit her eyes when she saw him. There was a bit of relief there, too, if he wasn’t mistaken. Pottinger led her across the room, beaming, and introducing her to their society. People eagerly dipped into elegant curtseys and paid her lavish compliments, some of which had Rhys’s brow arching at the ridiculous nature of it.
His sisters were jittery beside him, and even his mother seemed to be on edge. Finally, the duchess was escorted their way.
“Mr. Tremayne,” she greeted him with a warm smile. “I am delighted to see you.” Her eyes glowed with mystery and remembered passion.
Lord Pottinger stumbled and caught himself quickly. Clearly, he hadn’t expected the duchess to greet Rhys with such familiarity. He slid her a considering glance. “You are familiar with Mr. Tremayne.”
“Oh yes, we’ve had several occasions upon which to converse.”
His sisters grinned in scandalized delight, while his mother and their host threw them speculative glances.
“Your Grace, Duchess of Hardcastle, may I present Mrs. Doretha Tremayne, Miss Lydia Tremayne, Miss Joanna Tremayne, and Miss Grace Tremayne to you. Ladies, Her Grace, the Duchess of Hardcastle.”
His sisters and mother dropped into elegant curtsies.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances,” Georgiana said with a warm smile.
She spent a few minutes with them before the viscount whisked her off to meet other notable locals.
“Oh, she is so beautiful, and elegant, and charming!” Joanna gasped, laughing.
“She spent the longest with you. Do you see all the glances of envy we are receiving?” Grace asked.
“She could not stop looking at you, Rhys,” Lydia signed.
“I agree,” Grace said. “I do not believe you told us all that happened when you went to that ball, brother.”
Before he could retort, a few young bucks approached the girls, asking for dances. They eagerly consented, and he found himself alone with his mother.
“You should ask Her Grace to dance,” his mother urged.
“No.”
“Rhys, you are—”
“Miss Doretha Drummond?”
His mother whirled around. “Marcus! Forgive me, I mean Lord Gaskill, what a pleasant surprise.”
His mother blushed, and Rhys coolly observed the man who had managed to wreak such an astonishing reaction. His mother was fifty years of age and was acting like a young debutante.
Lord Gaskill seemed equally entranced. “How are you? It has been so many years.”
“May I introduce my son, Rhys Tremayne? Rhys, this is…the earl is an old acquaintance of mine, Lord Gaskill.”
Rhys inclined his head politely.
The earl stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. “Mr. Rhys Tremayne?”
“Yes,” he drawled with an icy smile. So, the Lord Gaskill had somehow heard of him.
“Your son?”
“Yes. I have four children,” his mother said proudly. “They are all here.”
Regret gleamed in the man’s eyes as he stared down at Rhys’s mother with longing. Was this the man she would have married before her father sold her to a merchant instead? Christ. His mother would have been a countess.
“May I have this dance, Dotty?”
She flushed at his familiarity but nodded in evident pleasure. With an almost startled glance in Rhys’s direction, she marched onto the dance floor with the earl. His mother glowed, and Rhys filed away the information that he would need to investigate Lord Gaskill thoroughly.
Moving through the tightly packed room, he made his way to the small balcony and propped his shoulders on a column. His gaze unerringly found the duchess. Though she smiled and nodded, there were lines of strain around her full, sensuous mouth. As if she felt his stare, her regard turned his way. He inclined his head slightly, and those lips curved into a wide, inviting smile.
Soon…
…
Rhys’s family was charming and lovely. Georgiana had spent more time chatting with Lydia since it was her she needed to introduce to polite society. Georgiana had been careful in how she enunciated her words and had faced Lydia while they conversed, so she could get an accurate reading of her lips. With her beauty and cheerful disposition, Lydia would have no trouble attracting suitors. Georgiana would have to work to ensure they wer
e the right kinds and not fortune hunters or libertines who would think to make her their mistress. Though Lydia’s clear gray eyes gazed at Georgiana with a worldliness far beyond her years, she was a soft and rare beauty that would remain ageless. Her halting speech and the way she sometimes stared at someone’s mouth would be considered impolite to many, but a true gentleman would not be deterred.
A quadrille was playing, and all of Rhys’s sisters had been claimed for dances. They were all elegant in mind and temperament, with the graces of ladies.
Almost two hours after she had entered the ball, Georgiana found herself standing with Rhys alone atop a gallery overlooking the dancing throng. “We are finally alone.”
“If I’d known this was a source of displeasure, I would have whisked you away over an hour ago.”
She laughed. “Your family is charming, Rhys.”
“Ah, despite our dubious connections?”
It was a clear taunt.
“Your mother informed me she is the daughter of the late Viscount Westcott. So not all your connections are an unsavory, disreputable lot as I’ve been warned. The current viscount is friends with Simon. I’ve had the opportunity to socialize with your uncle, Lord Westcott, and his manners are pleasant.”
Rhys’s eyes hooded, and he stared at her for an infinite amount of time. “Would you accompany me on a walk along the seaside? It is only a few minutes from the viscount’s manor. If you listen, you can hear the crash of the sea.”
A thrill skittered through her, terrifying and exhilarating. She realized with a flash of amused bafflement he was stripping her of her long-held decorum with one enticement after the other. “I would like that.”
They went outside, and Georgiana silently cursed her impulsiveness, for more than one keen pair of eyes had noted their departure. I’m in the country, so there should be no rumors of this in town, she told herself, but she knew it was wishful thinking.
Pushing aside her disquiet, they strolled through the gardens and away from the merriment of the ball. Georgiana took a huge breath of fresh summer air into her lungs.
