Georgiana stifled a sob. A few hours ago her world had looked rosy indeed. Now all her hopes lay in ashes about her. She had thought he was different, blessed with all the virtues, strong and steady and protective. Now it seemed he was no different from the rest. His love for her was superficial, assumed, of no great depth, called forth only by her possession of the Place. His main interest in life was status and wealth, with all the trappings. Why, he was not much better than Charles. And Bella thought nothing of Dominic’s marrying her to gain title to the land. In all probability, he planned to keep Lady Changley as his mistress, even after they were married.
Georgiana tried to whip up her anger, her disdain. She must despise him, now she knew of his plans. But, as the miles rolled by, a cold certainty crept into her heart. She loved him far too much to despise him. Surely love wasn’t meant to hurt so much?
Disillusioned on every front, she huddled into her corner and wept.
CHAPTER NINE
A SLEEPLESS NIGHT filled with hours of crying was no remedy for Georgiana’s ailment. Bella took one look at her in the morning and insisted she spend the day in bed. Georgiana was in no mood to argue. But she winced at Bella’s last words, floating in her wake as, having insisted on tucking her in, she tiptoed out of her bedroom. “For don’t forget, we’ve the Mortons’ ball tonight, and that’s one event we can’t miss.”
Georgiana closed her eyes and let misery flow in. But she knew Bella’s reasons for attending the ball, the Mortons being old family friends, and knew she could not avoid going. She had revised her opinion of Bella’s part in her brother’s schemes. No one who was as kind as Bella could possibly be party to such cold-blooded manipulation. And there was Arthur, too. Try as she might, it was impossible to cast Bella’s husband in the light of a hard-hearted character who would idly watch while a young girl was cajoled into a loveless marriage. No. Neither Bella nor Arthur knew of Dominic’s schemes. Not that that made life all that much easier, for she could hardly ask them for advice on such a matter. Still, she was glad she had at least two friends she could count true.
The evening came all too soon. Under the combined ministrations of Cruickshank and the redoubtable Hills, supervised by Bella herself, the ravages of her imaginary migraine were repaired until only her lacklustre eyes and her pallid complexion remained as witness to her inner turmoil.
Those items were sufficient, however, to immediately draw Dominic’s attention to her distress. As was his habit, he gravitated to her side immediately she appeared in the ballroom.
“Georgiana?” Dominic bowed slightly over her hand, his eyes searching her face.
Flustered and weak, Georgiana retrieved her hand immediately, not daring to meet his intent gaze. Her heart was thudding uncomfortably, bruised and aching.
Dominic frowned. “My dear…”
At his tone, desperation flooded Georgiana. She raised her head, but still could not meet his eyes. “I’m afraid, my lord, that my dance card is full.”
The silence on her left was complete. She had just entered the ballroom—he must know she was lying.
Dominic felt his face drain of expression. His jaw hardened. The impulse to call her bluff was strong. Then he noticed again her pallor, and the brittle tension in her slim frame, and swallowed his anger.
Stiffly, he bowed. With a cold, “My dear,” he forced himself to walk away.
Dominic spent the first two dances watching Georgiana from the side of the room, unsure of his feelings, unsure, for what seemed like the first time in his life, of what to do. What the hell was going on? Then, finding himself the object of more than a few curious glances, he took himself off to the card-room.
He was rapidly inveigled into playing a few hands, but his mind was not on the game, and no one demurred when he left the table and returned to drift idly about the ballroom, keeping an unobtrusive eye on Georgiana. He had been careful enough for their association to have passed for mere acquaintance. If he displayed too overt an interest now, it would be tantamount to a declaration. But the impulse to cross the floor and haul her out on to the terrace and demand an explanation for her extraordinary conduct grew.
If she had betrayed the slightest hint of partiality for any other gentleman, he would have done it, and the consequences be damned. Luckily, she seemed unusually subdued, dancing only with those he knew she deemed her friends, refusing all others.
Slowly, his mind calmed and he started to sort through the possibilities in a more methodical fashion. At the Chadwicks’ gala, all had been well, until after their last dance. She had gone off to the withdrawing-room, and he, careful of appearances, had gone to make one in the card-room. When he had returned to the ballroom, he had found the Winsmere party had decamped. That had not surprised him at the time, knowing Bella’s condition. But perhaps there had been some other reason for their early departure.
Useless to speculate, when he had no idea what might have occurred. But between that last waltz and this evening, something had happened to destroy the carefully nurtured bond between himself and Georgiana.
Feeling very like hitting someone, but having no idea whom, Dominic scowled and strode out on to the balcony. The cool air brought some relief to his fevered brain. This was ridiculous. He was thirty-two, for heaven’s sake! The effect Georgiana’s withdrawal was having on him was both novel and highly unnerving. He didn’t like it. And he’d be damned if he’d endure it for a minute longer than necessary.
Drawing a deep breath, he frowned direfully at the young couple who, giggling softly, came up out of the
secluded garden. Surprised to find him there, arms folded and looking so grim, they fled back to the ballroom. Dominic sighed. If he did not have to be so circumspect, he could have taken Georgiana into the garden and made delicious love to her—
Abruptly he cut off the thought. Right now, it seemed as if she wasn’t even speaking to him.
He would have to find out what was upsetting her. From the few comments he had exchanged with his sister, Bella clearly had no idea what had happened—she still had no idea of his interest in Georgiana. He needed to see Georgiana alone. For several moments, he pondered various schemes for attaining this end, finally settling on the one which, although it would not allow the fiction of the avuncular nature of his interest to stand, had the best chance of success.
With his decision made, he left the terrace to lay the necessary groundwork to put his plan into action.
GEORGIANA had no idea how she survived the Mortons’ ball. It remained, long afterwards, a dull ache in her memory. She was glad, she kept telling herself, that Lord Alton had accepted her dismissal so readily. It would have been too much to bear if he had insisted she speak with him. Perhaps he had realised she had come to understand his motives and would not be the easy conquest he had expected. Hopefully, he would stay away from her now. Depressed and weary, she slept the sleep of exhaustion, and awoke the next morning, refreshed at least in body, if not in spirit.
Despondent, she trailed into the breakfast-room.
“Georgie! Are you feeling better this morning?”
Bella’s solicitude brought Georgiana to her senses. She had no right to wallow in misery and act like a raincloud over her friend. Summoning a wan smile, Georgiana nodded. “Yes. I’m fine.”