Page 57 of Counting on Love

Chapter Sixteen

“The violet,” Jeanette said decisively. “If you are to be singing, you will want the violet.”

Dresses were laid out all over the bed. Georgiana looked them over with a jaundiced eye. The modiste had prepared her a wardrobe for a London Season, not for whatever this was.

“Isn’t that style a bit much for a house party?” It showed too much neck.

“It is perfect for standing up to sing. Very dramatic.”

Georgiana grumbled, “I don’t think we need any more drama.”

Alice giggled. “Wasn’t that just awful? Who do you suppose he is? He looks like he could be a cousin, didn’t you think?”

“A cousin!”

“He has that chin. Or maybe it was the blue eyes.”

“A cousin, yet no one had any idea who he was?” Georgiana laughed at Alice’s fancy.

Alice shrugged but a smile played on her lips. “Maybe the Earl and his brother had a falling out. They haven’t seen one another for years. And now the nephew has appeared with demands upon the inheritance.”

“Good Heavens. You have it all figured out?” Georgiana entered into the spirit. Tapping her cheek, she speculated, “But why then, would the Earl have summoned him? And why would he have looked so annoyed to be here?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Alice pouted. “And I don’t suppose we’ll find out. It’s abominably nosy of me to want to hear what happened.”

“I suspect if Olivia finds out who he is, she’ll tell you. No matter how lurid the secret is.”

Alice giggled again. “The only person in this house I suspect of having lurid secrets is Crispin. Adam is no more a valet than I am. And aren’t you curious to see if he eats anything tonight?”

Georgiana huffed. “We are awful.”

Jeanette’s little smile showed she was having difficulty pretending not to listen. She approached with Georgiana’s violet gown in hand.

“And, with this, the silver chain and pendant,” Jeanette said. “And pearls in your hair.”

“You don’t think that’s excessive?”

“Non. If anything, it is too tame.”

“Hmm.” She frowned skeptically. “All right.”

Then she recalled her maid’s secretive smile. Servants knew everything.

“Jeanette, are they talking about Adam downstairs?”

“Bien sur,” she murmured, “but what do they know? Nothing.”

“What do you know? Have you spoken with him?”

“In passing. His French is very good.”

“His French? I thought he looked Greek. Or Italian.”

“He is Greek. It is where he…” She searched for the English translation. “Picked up his little knowledge of medicine. But he learned French in France before he went to the Peninsula.”

Alice gawped. “To do what? That sounds like a resumé for a spy!”

“Alice!” Georgiana laughed. “Estranged cousins? French spies? You read too many novels.” But she couldn’t help asking Jeanette, “Did he say how he met Lieutenant Taverston?”