“Permit me to introduce myself, my dear. I’m afraid, if we wait for Bella to remember my existence, we might not be introduced until dinner.”
“Oh, fustian!” said Bella, catching his hand and giving it a little shake. “My dear Georgiana, allow me to present my husband, Arthur.”
Georgiana dropped a demure curtsy, hiding her surprise. She had not thought about Bella’s husband at all, but would never have imagined the youthful Bella married to a man so much older. As she straightened, her eyes met his, grey and kindly, and she had the feeling of being read like a book. But then he smiled, such a sweet smile, and suddenly it no longer seemed so odd that Bella should be his wife.
“Miss Hartley. Might I say how pleased we are to welcome you to our home?”
Georgiana murmured her thanks.
Over breakfast, Lord Winsmere made little comment, but contented himself with listening as Bella and she discussed feminine interests.
“I see you are out of blacks,” said Bella. “So fortunate.”
Georgiana hesitated, then explained, “Actually, it’s only four months since my father died, but he made me promise that I wouldn’t go into mourning for him. But—” she shrugged slightly “—I thought greys and lilacs were a reasonable compromise.”
Bella’s candid gaze assessed her dispassionately. “I must say, if your father was a painter, I can understand why he was so insistent you stay out of black. With your skin, it would certainly not suit.”
Georgiana grinned. “I’m not certain that wasn’t at the back of his mind when he made his request.”
As she turned her attention to her piece of toast, she was conscious of his lordship’s grey eyes resting on her with approval.
In fact, Lord Winsmere was pleased to approve of his wife’s prospective protégée. Georgiana Hartley, he decided, was a neat little thing. His eye had seen too many beauties to class her as one, but her features were pure and, with the gloss of a little animation, presently lacking, she could lay claim to the appellation of attractive with ease. She was petite, but her figure was full and delicately curved, not unlike Bella’s curvaceous form. And, more important than any other quality, the girl from Italy was not missish. Which was just as well, if she was to deal with his forthright Bella. All in all, Bella’s assessment had been accurate. Miss Georgiana Hartley was eminently acceptable.
When the ladies left him to his coffee and the morning’s news-sheet, he spent some time in a blank study of the parlour door. Undoubtedly, Dominic had done right in sending Georgiana to Winsmere House. There was little hope such an attractive miss could find decent employment without subjecting herself to dangers he, for one, did not wish to contemplate. Dominic’s plan to introduce her into society was a wise one. Thus far, the young lady seemed of a most amenable disposition. And, although not highly born, her lineage was not beneath consideration. He had checked for himself in the Register of Landowners. The Hartleys had been an unremarkable family for generations, but they were nevertheless of good stock. She would make some young squire an unexceptionable wife.
However, more importantly from his point of view, her presence would ease Bella’s boredom. His darling had talked non-stop since rising this morning, a sure sign of happiness.
With a smile at his own susceptibilities, Lord Winsmere rose and, taking up his unread news-sheet, retired to the library. For once, Dominic seemed to have bestirred himself for purely philanthropic reasons. His scheme was in the girl’s best interests and would keep Bella amused. There was no reason to interfere. Bella could entangle herself in the chit’s life to her heart’s content. Neither would take any ill. As his shrewd brain began to sort through the potential ramifications of his brother-in-law’s plan, Lord Winsmere’s brows rose. His lips curved slightly. In the end, who knew what might come of it?
“NOW, GEORGIE, promise me you won’t put me to the blush,” said Bella, firmly drawing on her gloves as the carriage drew to a standstill. “I couldn’t endure it in front of Fancon. The woman’s a terror. Lord only knows what damage she could do to your chances if she heard you asking about the price of a gown.”
Georgiana blushed. The slight frown on her friend’s face told her Bella was not yet convinced she had won their last battle. Georgiana simply couldn’t see the necessity for new gowns for herself. Surely it was not a requirement for a companion to be fashionably dressed? But Bella had been adamant.
“Just wait until you are a companion before you start dressing like a dowd.”
At Georgiana’s instinctive and forlorn glance at her demure grey gown, Bella had been instantly contrite. “Oh, I don’t mean that! Your gowns are perfectly acceptable, you know they are. It’s just that for going out into society you need more…well, more society clothes. This is London, after all.”
Finally, worn down by Bella’s arguments, strengthened by the defection of Cruickshank, who had deciphered enough of their conversation to give her a hard stare, Georgiana had consented to accompany Bella to the salon of the modiste known as Fancon. It was her third day in London, and she was beginning to feel at home in the large mansion on Green Street. Lord Winsmere was all that was kind. And Bella, of course, was Bella. Georgiana was overwhelmed by their kindness. But not so overwhelmed that she would consent to Bella’s buying her new gowns.
“If I must have new gowns to go about and become known, then of course I’ll pay for them.” Her calm statement had caused Bella to look at her in concern.
“But, my dear Georgie, gowns, you know…well, they’re not all that… I mean to say…” The garrulous Bella had flustered to a halt.
The drift of her thoughts had reached Georgiana. “Oh! Did you think I have no money?”
Bella’s eyes widened. “Well, I thought you might not be exactly flush, what with your trip and expecting your uncle to be there to help at the end of it.”
Georgiana smiled affectionately. They had thought her a pauper but had still wanted to help. She knew enough of the world to appreciate such sentiments. “Not a bit of it. My father left me reasonably well to do—or at least, that’s how my Italian solicitors described it. I don’t know what exactly that means, but I have funds deposited here on which I may draw.”
To her relief, Lord Winsmere had insisted on accompanying her to the bank her father had patronised. She had little doubt it was his lordship’s standing that had resulted in such prompt and polite service. There had been no difficulty in establishing her bona fides through papers she had carried from Italy.
While waiting for the carriage to stop rocking, Georgiana glanced at Bella’s profile. They had taken to each other as if each were the sister the other had never had. “Only two gowns, mind.”
Bella turned, her eyes narrowing. “Two day gowns and an evening gown.” She stared uncompromisingly at Georgiana.
With a wry grimace, Georgiana acquiesced. “All right. And an eveni
ng gown. But nothing too elaborate,” she added, as the groom opened the door.