“I assume it is from our own collection? I did not purchase it, but my mother often orders a thing somebody has mentioned. I would not like to think you bought it based only on Bertridge’s recommendation.”
“No, indeed, I did not buy it,” Georgiana said, wishing to get off the subject. “But why should you wonder about Lord Bertridge’s recommendations? Do you find his judgement unreliable?”
“Bertridge? Oh, I suppose he’s a fine enough fellow. Rather stiff like his aunt, though. Frowns on…well I sometimes wonder what hedoesn’tfrown upon.”
Georgiana nodded, as she had thought the same herself—Lord Bertridge was rather a stick. “It was an amusing dinner, at Lord Ryland’s house,” she said. “We have had similar mystery nights held in my own neighborhood, though not on as grand a scale. Though, I did not think either Lady Annabelle or Lord Bertridge saw much in it.”
“No,” Lord Langley said. “Speaking of Lady Annabelle, I happened to see her on the street some days ago. She mentioned you had taken a fall in the park.”
Georgiana felt her face grow hot, and probably an unflattering shade of red. “Did she?” she asked.
“She did. She said there was some difficulty in mounting Minerva.”
Georgiana should have known Lady Annabelle would not keep such a thing to herself. Well, she would own what occurred and anybody could think what they liked about it.
“As it happens,” she said defiantly, “I discovered that your groom is far stronger than my own at home. I had been quite used to doing at least half the work myself to mount my father’s horses. So, you can imagine that my efforts combined with Jimmy’s were rather more powerful than necessary. Resulting in a fall.”
“But you were not hurt?”
“Not in the least,” Georgiana said, jutting her chin out to make her point.
Lord Langley had apparently decided to drop the subject as he said, “Your appointment for tea with the queen is on the morrow.”
Mention of tea with the queen stole the wind from Georgiana’s well-filled sails. She set her cup down. “Indeed it is. I will not prevaricate—I am rather quaking over it and have had thoughts of wishing I had not worked quite so hard on Lord Ryland’s mystery.”
“Why should you quake over it?” Lord Langley asked, his brow wrinkling. “She is elevated, to be sure, but she is still a person and it is only tea, not an inquisition.”
Georgiana twisted her hands together. “I am worried that I will somehow put out a wrong foot. I am not afraid of what the queen will think of me, as whatever it is she is unlikely to ever think of me again. But, Iamafraid of what Lady Mendleton will think about what the queen thinks of me. I would not wish to in any way embarrass that kind lady.”
Lord Langley looked at her seemingly critically and Georgiana looked away and fussed with the teapot. She always found herself a little shivery when he regarded her so plainly.
“I shouldn’t worry over it,” Lord Langley said. “She is a perfectly agreeable person. Just be yourself, as she does not like airs or pretension or false modesty and simpering. Also, she has two rather awful Pomeranian dogs, do your best to pretend you admire them.”
Georgiana nodded, grateful for the hints. The dogs might be her best chance with the queen—she got on with dogs of all sorts and did not suppose regal dogs were so very different from any other dog.
“I do like dogs,” she said hopefully.
“Well, these are less dogs and more spoiled attendants who believe they hold a rank of the highest importance.”
“They cannot be so very bad…”
Lord Langley rose and said, “You shall judge for yourself. Enjoy your book. When did you say you found it in the library?”
Georgiana had not said and was rather taken aback by the question. “Just a while ago,” she said.
“I see. Well, let us hope Bertridge has steered you in the right direction.”
With that, he made a short bow and left the room.
Georgiana contemplated the door as it shut behind Lord Langley. It had been a strange conversation. So many questions. First about the book, and then when she thought he’d done with it, he came back around to it and inquired when she’d got it.
It was impossible that anybody had seen her snooping. The door had been shut.
She wished she hadn’t done it. She should have left well enough alone. It had seemed, at the time, that she ought to determine that Marcus had not been spying on some sort of sensitive correspondence. But it had not be any of her affair!
Well, what was done was done. Were she ever pressed about it, she would tell the truth. She just hoped she would never be pressed about it.
Thinking of the visit to the queen, Georgiana had a great wish to go back to the library to see if there might not be a book that contained something about Pomeranians.
