Impetuous Innocent (Regencies 3)

However, there were a few who had remained long enough to enjoy a light flirtation, a moment of dalliance. Such a one was Lord Edgcombe, who now approached to claim her for the waltz.

Georgiana smiled and curtsied. “My lord.”

His lordship, resplendent in a dark green coat which leant a deeper tinge to his golden locks, bowed easily over her hand. “My lovely.” His cool grey eyes flicked to the Viscount, still hovering by her elbow.

Georgiana realised he must have seen them re-enter the room, and wondered how much he guessed. She was now too experienced to take umbrage at his outrageous but calculated greeting. Instead, she spoke confidently, succeeding in distracting his lordship from his contemplation of the hapless Viscount. “I take it that means you approve of my gown?”

Lord Edgcombe’s grey gaze swung slowly to her face. His lips twitched. Then, to pay her back for her temerity, he raised his quizzing-glass and embarked on a minute inspection of her person. “Mmm,” he murmured. “The style, of course, is superb. Fancon, I trust?”

Georgiana, far from blushing and dissolving into a twittering heap, the prescribed reaction to his behaviour, could not restrain her smile. She understood his lordship’s tactics only too well.

Far from being put out by her refusal to succumb, Lord Edgcombe responded with a smile of genuine enjoyment and offered his arm. “Come, sweet torment, the dance-floor awaits and the musicians will soon grow weary.”

As she twirled down the room in Lord Edgcombe’s arms, Georgiana wondered again at the success, for her part unexpected but none the less flattering, which had resulted in her receiving the attentions of one such as his lordship. He was well born, with a comfortable estate, and could be pleasant enough when it suited him. However, as it only suited him to behave so with a select circle of acquaintances, he was generally thought to be beyond the reach of the matchmaking mamas. Georgiana did not entirely understand his interest in her, but instinctively knew she was in no immediate danger of receiving a proposal from Lord Edgcombe. At least, she amended, as she looked into his smiling grey eyes and correctly divined the thoughts behind them, not a proposal of marriage.

“Relieve my curiosity, my dear. What could possibly be so interesting that you needs must be alone with the noble Viscount?”

Georgiana opened her eyes wide. “Why, we were merely strolling, my lord.”

The grey gaze remained on her face for a full minute. Then his lips curved once more. “I see.” After a moment he added, his voice low, “I don’t suppose you feel like taking a stroll with me.”

Georgiana’s eyes danced. Keeping her face straight, she shook her head primly. “Oh, no, my lord. I don’t think that would be at all wise.”

They executed a complicated turn at the end of the room, pausing to allow two younger and more enthusiastic couples to pass by. When they were once more proceeding up the long room, his lordship’s attention refocused. “Now why is that, I wonder? Surely you don’t mean to say that you fear my company would be less…scintillating than the Viscount’s?”

Georgiana laughed lightly, her eyes still holding his. “Oh, no—far from it. My fear is more that your company might prove rather too scintillating, my lord.”

Lord Edgcombe was no more immune to the flattery of a beautiful young woman than the next man, even if he fully understood her machinations. So he smiled again, sharing in her laughter. “My dear, you’re a minx. But a delightful minx, so I’ll let you escape the set-down you undoubtedly deserve.”

Schooling her features to reflect a suitable gratitude, and reducing her voice to a breathless whisper, Georgiana replied, “Oh, thank you, my lord.”

“Gammon!” said Lord Edgcombe.

Returning three dances later to Bella’s side, Georgiana was given no time to draw breath. Her mentor immediately demanded to be told what Viscount Molesworth had had to say.

Georgiana regarded Bella warily. “He proposed.”

“And?” Bella’s face was alight.

Georgiana knew it was her friend’s dearest wish that she contract a suitable alliance, and Viscount Molesworth was certainly that. But she had no real ambition to marry where she did not love, not even for her best friend. So she drew a deep breath and confessed. “I refused him.”

“Oh.” Bella’s face fell. “But why?”

Seeing the real consternation in Bella’s big eyes—eyes that constantly reminded her of another—Georgiana was tempted to make a clean breast of it. But the approach of the gentleman to whom she was promised for the next dance reminded her of their surroundings. “I’ll explain later. Not now. Please, Bella?”

Now Bella saw Mr Millikens and smiled and nodded, adding in an undertone for Georgiana’s ears only, “Yes, of course. Later. But Georgie, we really must talk of this.”

Georgiana nodded her agreement and moved forward to take Mr Millikens’s arm.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur before Georgiana’s eyes. She spent much of her time examining and assessing the changes the past two weeks had wrought in her life. Arthur’s quietly worded request that she remain in Green Street, theoretically a guest, but in truth as a companion for Bella, had been a turning point. His explanation of Bella’s need for purpose in an otherwise frivolous existence had struck a chord of sympathy. After that, she had no longer pursued the idea of finding employment with an older lady. Bella, of course, was kept in ignorance of the arrangement, for it was generally only much older women who had companions.

That first night at Almack’s had set the seal on her success. From that evening, a steady flow of invitations had poured into Green Street, and she and Bella had been immersed in a tide of balls and parties, routs and breakfasts. Her popularity, both with the gentlemen and the ladies of society, had made Bella crow. For her part, Georgiana wryly thanked her less than perfect looks. Because she was no beauty, she was not a challenge to the reigning incomparables. Thus she was accepted without any great fuss, nor was she the butt of any jealousies. Her natural vivacity, which, thanks to Lady Winterspoon and Beau Brummel, she had discovered, carried her through. In her heart, she strongly suspected it was this, together with her unconventionally un-missish behaviour, which made her so attractive to the gentlemen. Certainly, they flocked about her. And, if she were to be truthful, she could not deny a happy little glow of self-satisfaction whenever she thought of her court. She might not be a hit, or a beauty, but she had her own little niche, her own place in the scheme of things. As Lady Winterspoon had suggested, there were many roads to success.

They were among the last to leave the ball. As she had anticipated, Bella returned to the subject of Viscount Molesworth as soon as the carriage door was shut upon them.

“Why, Georgie? I thought you liked him.”

Georgiana leant back against the fine leather upholstery and resigned herself to the inevitable. “Viscount Molesworth is all that is amiable. But truly, Bella, do you think that’s enough?”