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Chapter Sixteen
Miss Lydia Tremayne’s launch into the ton could be declared a success. The revelation of her deafness had not heralded the condemnation Georgiana had prepared for. Instead, there had been an outpouring of sympathy from those who knew and admired her gentle manners and charm. Lydia had been invited to a few balls and routs without Georgiana needing to use her influence, and at least three young, respectable gentlemen had called upon her. Though there were as yet no marriage offers or declarations of courtship, there was enough interest from polite society to signal their willingness for her to enter their select circles.
There had been several questions as to her background and connections, and Georgiana had made known the familial connection to Viscount Westcott. Her most respectable caller was the honorable Simon Basil, the son of Viscount Sterling. Lydia was quite taken with him but worried about her dark past, for the ton and everyone simply accepted she and her sisters had been abroad. Georgiana had cautioned her to be careful in her revelations until she was certain of Simon’s intention.
A knock sounded on the door. Georgiana lowered the reports from the steward overseeing Nicolas’s estate in Devon and answered, “Yes.”
Gibbs entered, moving more spryly than she had seen him in ages. She had returned to Meadowbrook Park a few days past and spoken to him about his retirement and pension, but he had insisted on staying at Meadowbrook Park. She had relented, for the servants there were his family, and if he retired to the cottage she’d provided, despite its closeness to the estate, Gibbs would be lonely.
“A letter for you, Your Grace. Lady Fairfax and Lord Fairfax have also come to call.”
“Thank you. Please see my mother and brother to the sitting room with refreshments. I will be along shortly.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” He bowed and shuffled out.
Eagerly, she slit open the letter, hoping it was from Rhys. Her heart sank. It was a letter from Daphne, informing Georgiana of her departure to Berkshire. She leaned back into the chair with a sigh. Since the night of Lady Sheffield’s ball, three weeks past, there had been a distance between her and Rhys. At times, she wondered if her imagination was simply overwrought. She still slipped away several nights to be with him, but he had been requesting her presence less. There was also a cool watchfulness to his hawkish gaze whenever she encountered his presence at the balls Lydia attended. Even in that area, he had limited himself to only attending two, and their mother accompanied Lydia at other events.
He had been present last night at Viscountess Pembroke’s soiree, but they had ignored each other as they had been doing whenever he entered the ton. Georgiana had ached to go to him, to just sit with him once, but had held back more from the uncertainty of how he would receive her than anything else. She had not received a note from him this past week, nor had she shared his bed. That was uncommon and alarming.
A sharp knock rapped on the door to the library before it was flung open, and in marched the countess, a newssheet clutched between her fingers.
“Mother?”
“I’ve been waiting in the sitting room for fifteen minutes,” she snapped.
Georgiana arched a brow. “I wasn’t aware there was a matter of urgency to discuss.”
“You’ve brought shame upon us. Your father would be appalled if he were alive.”
Georgiana gasped. “I beg your pardon?”
Her mother slapped the papers on the table. “Have you seen this?”
With trembling fingers, she reached for the scandal sheet. It was a drawing of a lady…one who looked remarkably like her, and a man who resembled Rhys. Dear God. That was the only thought to blast in her mind for precious seconds. Then anger at the intrusion into her private life stirred within her heart. “It seems the reporters have little to talk about this season. This is simply baseless conjecture on their part, hoping to start a scandal.”
Even knowing her assessment to be true, discomfort burned in her heart. The drawing depicted Georgiana standing in the center of an empty ballroom, and a dark, shadowy figure of Rhys prowling to her, his gaze so intent on her, it was clear his only purpose was debauchery and ravishment. There was an accompanying expository on the mysterious and wealthy Mr. Rhys Tremayne, who seemed to only possess eyes for the Duchess of Hardcastle. It was noted he asked no lady to the dance floor, he did not join the card rooms, and the ton must be intrigued at this anomaly within their midst.
Georgiana flushed. A nosy reporter was bent on stirring society’s attention toward them. She rubbed at the slight ache in her temple. “Is this the reason you and Simon descended on me unannounced?”
“This is appalling behavior and unwelcomed prying into our lives.”
“Don’t you mean into my life?”
Her mother cast her a sharp glance. “In all our lives. I knew that man couldn’t be trusted within our circles. There is a terrible rumor that you are having an affair with him. Have you no thought of your son’s legacy, your reputation, and your sister’s chances for a decent match? Most certainly, you will lose favor in society that may never be regained.”
She stood and hurried around the desk to stand in front of her mother. “This is all speculation, Mother, and I will not be a party to it. Nor do I have to defend myself to you.”
Her mother’s lips parted in outrage. Before she could retort, Georgiana continued. “You and Simon are welcomed to stay for a few days if that is your wish, but I will not discuss this further. I promised Nicolas he could swim in the lake with Calliope and Barnaby. I will see you for dinner perhaps?”
Her mother nodded stiffly, and Georgiana swept from the library. She was suddenly grateful Rhys had not planned any clandestine meetings for the last several days. This scrutiny was decidedly unwelcome, and she felt unsettled. Perhaps she needed to cultivate more distance between herself and Rhys until society found some new tidbit to speculate about. A humorless smile crossed her lips. How careful she had been, how discreet, and the carrion had still found something to print.
She was suddenly grateful she had traveled down to Meadowbrook Park to spend a few days with her darling son. Her townhouse must have been besieged by callers wanting to judge her reaction to the scandal sheet. She was sorry for the shock her mother had endured. Her parents had always been so proper and respectable, a family that prided themselves on their integrity and that there was no scandal or taint in their background. They had long held the expectations of their children to always comport themselves in a similar exacting manner. She felt a pinch of guilt for the shame her mother must have endured. Her family had always been so dignified and noble, especially her father.
Your father would be appalled if he were alive.
Gritting her teeth against the pang of hurt, she hurried up the main staircase and collected her son from the s
choolroom. His face lit with joy when he saw her.
“Is it time, Mamma?” he shouted, ignoring the frown of his tutor.
She laughed and held out her arms. Without hesitation, he stumbled from the stool and flung himself into her embrace. Grabbing him up in her arms, she snuggled her face into his neck, inhaling his sweet, unique scent. A happy laugh bubbled from him. She glanced at the scowling tutor who looked displeased she had arrived an hour early.
“Nicolas, bid Mr. Brantley good day and let our adventures begin.”
Her son’s dark-blue eyes widened, and a sigh of pleasure issued forth. Wiggling down, he turned and executed a smart bow to his teacher, who returned the honor with a “Your Grace.” Then her son slipped one of his hand between hers, and they hurried away to enjoy the rest of the day in leisure.
…
A gentle breeze rolled through the windows, cooling the sweet arousal coiling deep inside Georgiana. She shifted, a moan slipping from her, the smooth sheets beneath her an unbearable friction against her sensitive skin.
“Wake up,” a voice murmured with a soft brush against her skin. She surged to awareness, her heart a quaking mess. A dark figure hovered above her, from the scent of his cheroot and uniquely male fragrance she knew it to be Rhys.
The desire his devilish fingers had awakened needed to be assuaged. “Join me,” she purred, tugging the satin peignoir to her thighs and widening her legs lasciviously.
The sliver of moonlight glinted off the sharp angles of his cheekbones, and he flashed a sensual smile. Another breeze rolled through the windows, shifting the dark purple drapes in her chambers ever so slightly. She frowned and then lurched upright, scrambling from the bed to tug her silken robe from the peg. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw the drawing in the paper.”
She glared at him helplessly. “And you crept into my chamber in the dead of night to tell me this? How did you even get in?” She hurried to the door to find it still locked. “That article was a week ago, and it wasn’t a headline that would keep the ton titillated for long. There was no need for you to travel down. However did you manage to gain entrance?”
