Page 50 of Counting on Love

Chapter Fourteen

If anyone needed rallying, it must be poor Lord Taverston, Georgiana mused, as Jeanette brushed out her hair. Not only had the hunt he planned been a disaster, but the whole evening had fallen apart.

No sooner had they gathered in the ladies’ parlor for tea than the butler had announced the arrival of the Squire and his wife, as well as poor Jeffrey. They bustled in, full of concern and apologies, insisting they would remove Jeremy to home at once. It fell to Lord Taverston to take them to see their son and to explain to them the doctor’s orders. Jeremy was not to be moved: he must remain in bed for a week. Lord Taverston assured them it would be no trouble at all to keep him. The upshot was that the parents had left Jeffrey behind to keep his brother company and to fetch and carry for him so that the Taverstons and their guests would not be disturbed.

Of course, that meant having another chamber opened for the boy. And then, to prove Jeremy was welcome and no trouble, the men all took their dinner in his room. Lady Iversley and Mother used the opportunity to sup with the Earl. That left the girls to their own devices. Olivia suggested they eat in the garden.

Georgiana found it exceedingly pleasant. Olivia was friendly and chatty and very interested in hearing about “all the eligible men in London.” She insisted she did not regret missing another Season, saying there would be plenty of men left for her to flirt with next year. And if she didn’t “take,” she said, with a waggle of her eyebrows, there was always Jeffrey. Or Jeremy.

Georgiana told them both about Crispin’s suggestion. Olivia thought teasing Jasper was fine sport and wished she could address him as “Lord Taverston” also, but that would give away the game too quickly. As for Reginald’s odd choice of chair, Olivia confessed to complete ignorance but then wondered if it might be related to Jasper’s odd choice of saddle. She promised to ferret out what was going on. She hated—she said with a laugh—being left out.

They had had a grand time. Until the rain started, and they had to abandon their desserts and run inside.

Now, Jeanette put the last few pins in Georgiana’s hair. “Très belle,” she pronounced. “What do you have in store for today?”

Georgiana sighed. “Likely a tour of the house.” It was still raining. She stood. “I suppose I’ll wander downstairs and see who’s stirring.” She had spent part of the night pondering what she had read. She might have figured something out—she needed to reread that page. How she wanted that book! It almost made her wish Lord Taverston would get it over with and propose to her. The sooner they were wed, the sooner she could reveal her true self.

She was being melodramatic, of course. Save for one small quirk, this was her true self; it had to be.

There were two men in the breakfast parlor this morning: Mr. Taverston—Reginald—and Jeffrey. Reginald had his head bent over a book, with a plate of eggs and sausages next to his elbow and coffee beside the plate. Jeffrey was at the sideboard, piling two plates and trying to balance them.

Without looking up, Reginald said, with a hint of impatience, “Just ask a maid for help, for God’s sake.”

“No, no. I won’t be a bother. I said I would see to anything we need.”

“You’re going to need a broom and a mop.”

Georgiana said, “You might simply ask for a tray.”

Reginald’s head whirled. He saw her and quickly stood, while Jeffrey cried: “Oh! Splendid idea. Yes. A tray. Will they have one in the kitchen? I’ll go see.” He hurried out, leaving his plates on the sideboard.

Georgiana eyed the plates. “I gather Jeremy’s appetite was not harmed.”

“What? No. I suppose not. Good morning. Thank you. For someone who swears he won’t be a bother—”

“He’s a pestilence?”

He laughed. Georgiana picked up a plate and some toast and approached the table. There was a piece of paper next to the book. She saw now that the book was a ledger, spread open. She stepped closer. Her eyes ran down the right page to the tally at the bottom.

“Eighty-seven pounds twelve shillings three pence,” she said, “Not eighty-three, six, and three.”

What had she done? She spun around, dizzied, swaying on her feet. The plate fell from her hands and shattered on the floor. She needed to flee, but Mr. Taverston caught her wrist.

“Georgiana? Georgiana, are you all right?”

She felt his hands on her arms. He scraped his chair back with his foot.

“Sit down. Please.” He guided her into the seat.

She had no choice but to sit. Mama would—oh!—she would weep. How could she have been so unguarded? So stupid?

“Georgiana?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” She tried to smile. “A little faint. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

He was regarding her much too carefully. Then he said, “I knew a fellow at Cambridge with that talent. Remarkable. Put all his classmates to shame.”

“Please.” She winced. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t…I don’t…” She dropped her head into her hands. Mama would be so disappointed in her.