“It is not standard treatment of one’s modiste, no,” Marguerite said with a twitch of her lips.
“It does explain why I felt she hated me from the first,” Georgia said. “I couldn’t understand it at the time, but it was as if she were trying to punish me for something.”
“Being Eugenie’s daughter would be quite enough reason,” Marguerite said, “never mind being Charles’s daughter as well. Do you know, I have always wondered if Jacqueline hadn’t had a secret passion for Charles herself.”
“Oh, Marguerite, you are a hopeless romantic,” George said with exasperation. “As you’ve said yourself, the girl was only eleven!”
“You’d be surprised what girls think about when they are eleven,” Marguerite said. “And Jacqueline probably more than most.’’
“So,” Nicholas asked, exchanging a quick look with Georgia, “you think she felt rejected by Charles Cameron and doubly sought revenge?”
“It’s possible,” Marguerite replied.
“Yes. It’s very possible. And that is why she would treat Georgia as she did. It makes sense, for she’s repeated the pattern since. It also makes sense of why she was so very furious over Georgia’s marriage to me, aside from the obvious. Hmm … how long do you reckon she’s known that Georgia is Eugenie’s daughter?”
“How can we know?” Marguerite said helplessly. “I cannot think it was before Georgia came to London, for how could she have known where to find her, or even that Georgia existed at all? She must have recognized something about her, although I cannot think how she even met her.”
“I think I saw her one day when I was collecting material for Lady Herton,” Georgia said, straining to remember when it had been. “I did not know who she was at the time. But it would have been at Madame LaSalle’s, for I always bought material from her. Madame knew a number of things about me, as I’d lived with her for over a year. It is possible that Jacqueline might have asked questions.”
“Yes,” Marguerite said. “Jacqueline might have started by asking questions out of curiosity, and then put the pieces together. Oh, she is dreadful!”
“But I do believe we have her cornered,” Nicholas said with satisfaction. “It puts the finishing touch on this ball of yours, for now you can introduce Georgia as your niece. What can Jacqueline do? She will look a fool.”
“She will look a fool indeed. And I shall play my cards very close to my chest,” Marguerite said happily. “Oh, it will be perfect!”
“My wife was born to intrigue,” George said wryly. “Nothing could make her happier. Look at what a tender age she started, running messages for her sister.”
Marguerite shot her husband a look of high amusement. “At least when I intrigue,” she said, “I do it for the good of others. Why, only last year I had a great success.”
“If you speak of Edward and Eliza Seaton, my darling, I feel quite sure they would have managed very well on their own, both being eminently sensible people.”
“My dear George, you understand very little about the art of romance. It has absolutely nothing to do with being sensible: affairs of the heart cannot be run like affairs of state. However, since this latest intrigue involves my very sly sister, then I shall listen to your advice most carefully.”
“Yes,” said George, “and I think I have a plan. It will require timing and some luck, but I think it might just do the trick. The key lies with Hermione Horsley…”
“Do you have any idea how happy Binkley is going to be to hear of your blue blood?” Nicholas said in the carriage on the way home. “He will positively perspire with suppressed delight and no doubt say he knew it all along.”
“I still cannot believe it,” Georgia replied, snuggling up against him. “It felt so wonderful to be hugged and kissed and welcomed so. I have missed having a family, Nicholas.”
“Yes. I know how that feels. I am happy for you, sweetheart, for not only is it nice to know that you have blood relatives, but I also know how much it has troubled you to believe you married above yourself. I am trying to work out if it is I who have married above myself. I believe I must have done. Shall I now grovel before you and hope you will continue to love me out of the goodness of your elevated heart?”
Georgia burst into laughter. “I do not think you would grovel very well, Nicholas. And I assure you, I am no better than I was two hours ago, and just as ignorant. But oh, it is like a dream come true—save for the part about Jacqueline. I cannot like sharing blood with her, but I like it most excessively when it comes to Marguerite. And I hate Jacqueline more than ever, for she is truly evil. She has destroyed so many lives. My mother’s, my father’s, yours, your uncle’s, Cyril’s—”
“Do not forget yourself, love. Do not forget yourself. You have every right to be very, very angry.’’
“I would rather be angry for you and Cyril right now, for it is a waste of time to lament the past. And I most likely would never have met you if Jacqueline had not thrown me into her turret. So some good has come out of it. I told you I believe in magic.”
“You are ever whimsical. And I must say, this latest development is straight out of one of your fairy tales. Cinderella trades her sackcloth for satin, or something like that, not that I ever thought of you as Cinderella for a moment.”
“Cinderella actually had very respectable blood, Nicholas. It was only her wicked stepmother who put her in sackcloth in the first place.”
“My point exactly,” Nicholas said with satisfaction. “Jacqueline is perfect in the part, isn’t she?”
“And so are you, for I shall go to the ball and dance with the prince.”
“Please, sweetheart, I thought we had established my role in this piece. You shall go to the ball and dance with your reprobate husband.”
“It sounds very inviting,” Georgia said, moving against him. “I am particularly fond of that side of you.”
“Really? How encouraging you are. Do let me oblige you.” Nicholas reached over and pulled the curtains across the windows, then gathered her into his arms and kissed her, at the same time deftly sliding his hands under her skirts.
“Nicholas?” she gasped as his fingers found her soft feminine flesh and moved over it. “Here? Are you sure it is proper? Oh…”
He muffled a laugh against her throat and slid his fingers inside her. She shuddered and her legs eased open to give him easier access, and her head fell back against the squabs as he bent his head to her breasts, impatiently pulling down the material of her bodice with his free hand. He ran his tongue over a blue vein and pulled her hard little nipple into his mouth, moving his fingers at the same time, and she moaned and thrust up against his hand.
“Georgia, wait a moment,” he whispered raggedly, his own urgent need growing. He quickly undid his trouser buttons with a fumbling hand and freed himself. He took her by the hips and with a quick lift sat her on his lap. With another lift he sheathed himself in her hot, swollen flesh, his breath coming in hard pants.
“Cinderella was never so sensual,” he said, choking as the carriage hit a hole in the road and threw them up and then down again, driving her down on him with full force. Nicholas groaned and grabbed for a handhold to keep from toppling over, and Georgia gurgled with laughter.
“What do you know about Cinderella?” she said, looking down at him with half-closed eyes. “I’m sure she liked it every bit as much as I do. I only hope her prince was as accomplished at pleasing her.”
She shifted on him slightly and his heart lurched halfway into his throat. She was every bit the seductress, her skirts bunched up around her naked hips, a smile on her lips, her ripe naked breasts quivering with the movement of the carriage. Every last inch of her emanated sensuality.
Circe,
he thought hazily as she leaned down and ran her tongue over his mouth, then lightly over his ear.
I’m married to Circe.
Her hands came to rest on his chest and she shifted her weight, resting on her knees. Nicholas closed his eyes and prayed for control and smoothly paved streets as Georgia began to move, riding him high and shallowly until he wanted to scream with frustration. It was everything he could do not to take her by the hips and pull her down hard on him. But he restrained himself and clenched his teeth, surrendering to her will. And then, just when he thought he might lose his mind, she deepened her thrusts.
“Oh, Jesus, Georgia!” he cried as she moved up and down his aching length and his insides clenched. He was about to explode, he could feel it coming. And just as he reached the point of no return, she pushed down on him hard and drew him into her deepest recesses, her body contracting on his. He pulled her against him, smothering her high keen of release in his shoulder, and it was everything he could do not to cry out himself as his own release overwhelmed him.
He suddenly realized that the carriage was making a left turn, and he knew it had to be into Upper Brook Street. “Georgia, love,” he said with a combination of a laugh and a groan.
“Oh, I do love you. I love you, Nicholas.”
“Yes, I know, sweetheart, but we can discuss it later. We are about to be discovered
in flagrante delicto.
Quickly, now.”
She moved off him like a shot, pulling her skirts into place and adjusting her bodice. He managed to get his trousers buttoned and his coat pulled on, and when the door opened, he and Georgia looked as if they had been sitting just so since leaving Lord and Lady Clarke’s. Nicholas chose to ignore the fact that his hair was damp and disheveled and Georgia’s face was very flushed, and he hoped the footmen would have the good sense to ignore it as well.
Georgia took one last long look at herself, her stomach tied up in knots every bit as tight as the ribbons on her bodice. She scarcely recognized her own image. The maid, Florentine, had woven a garland of roses through her hair, colored to match her dress, a robe of white lace over a slip of pale pink satin. The hem was trimmed with pearls and silk roses, and a small bouquet of silk roses nestled on one shoulder. Nicholas had given her a double strand of pearls, and earrings to match. She did look a little like a lady, she decided. And she really wasn’t an impostor—not really, not with her mother’s blood and her father’s, too, running in her veins.
But what was that really, when measured against half a lifetime of servitude? Surely that would be what showed, her gaucheness, her lack of the confidence Marguerite had tried so hard to instill? She marveled that any of them had confidence in her at all.
She drew a deep breath and practiced an experimental curtsy, wondering what would happen if she overbalanced and fell on her backside.
“Beautifully executed,” Nicholas said from the doorway, and she quickly turned, blushing at her foolishness.
“Georgia…” he said on a note of awe, taking in her appearance. “My God. I never imagined … I scarce know what to say.”
“Say I look presentable,” she said, “for I need reassurance most dreadfully.”
Nicholas walked over to her and kissed her lightly. “You look not only presentable but also look incredibly, gloriously beautiful.” He ran his finger down the side of her throat. “I almost look forward to the evening, if only to see the stunned reaction when people lay their eyes on you.”
“They will indeed be stunned,” she said with a rueful smile. “But for quite a different reason.”
“I doubt it. I am stunned, and I have known you for nearly half a year, in clothes and out of them. I’ve never doubted your beauty. But tonight, dressed like this, you are … I don’t know. There is something about you that is extraordinary. I cannot say it any better than that. I am overwhelmed.”
“Nicholas, you are silly.”
“So you constantly tell me. But who knows, perhaps it’s a saving grace. It would be truly overwhelming to take everything too seriously, or so I have discovered. If anything, I have learned that lesson from you.”
“You have?”
“I have. Do you know, when I think of the months we’ve spent at the Close, I don’t think of the hardships. I think of the laughter more than anything else, and the companionship, and how it felt to fall in love with you. I am so damned grateful for that, Georgia. You will never know how much.”
“I think I might,” she said, resting her hands on his chest and looking up at him with a smile. “I am grateful too. I gather it is permissible to use the word again?”
“I think we have moved beyond that particular obstacle.” He bent his head and gently kissed her. “I wouldn’t trade these past months for a moment. Ever. Not for anything. But now it’s time to move ahead, and I cannot help but worry.”
“I think you worry too much, Nicholas. What is it now?”
“I worry about you, sweetheart. Not about how you will be received—I think that is virtually assured after the revelations of last night. But if I do not manage to salvage my name, my reputation, then where does that leave you?”
“At your side,” she said. “Where I want to be. Where else?”
“Georgia, you deserve a great deal more than a life in exile. I want to give you a great deal more. I always have. But now that I know the truth of your background, it matters more than ever.”
“Why?” she asked. “I am the same person. I am the same Georgia you married, the same Georgia with whom you’ve lived all this time. What is different about me now?”
Nicholas took her hands in his. “Nothing is different to me. But we both know that you have been denied your rightful place for all of your life. I understand how that is, how that feels, because it was taken from me also. But the difference is that you never knew it was yours to begin with. You were led to believe you were somehow unworthy, and you grew up without a sense of your own history. You have been robbed of a very essential part of yourself. I abhor snobbery, you know that, but this is something that goes far beyond. I believe very deeply in family, in blood, and I think you must have known somewhere deep in yourself that you were not where you belonged. But tonight you will be. It may not seem so at first, but it will be true.”
“Nicholas, just because we know some of the details of my background does not change the manner in which I grew up. These people will know that. It is the same as trying to dress Lily up and expecting her to be accepted.”
Nicholas laughed. “I don’t think it is quite the same, my love. For one, your parents may not have told you anything about your background, but they did see to it that you were properly educated, at least while they were alive. Did it ever occur to you to wonder why it is that you do not speak like a village girl from Cumberland, why you speak exactly as I do, as anyone born to the aristocracy speaks?”
“No … I suppose I never thought about it.”
“No. You wouldn’t. And to tell you the truth, I didn’t really think much about it either, although I probably should have done if I’d had any sense. There are quite a few things about you that I should have put together.”
“What?” she asked, puzzled.
“Oh, little things, really. I remember your being enthralled over
Candide,
but it was only this morning that I realized that the only edition at the Close is in French. Village girls are not generally fluent in the language. Most of them cannot read or write, for that matter. There were also your innate grace, your quickness of mind, and your quiet strength, all things that set you apart from the average.” He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face the mirror. “Look, Georgia. Try to see what I see.”
“But what do you see?”
“I see my wife, who has worked beside me, nursed me when I was ill, chastised, encouraged, and supported me through everything, never once complaining. I see my lover, who excites me as I have never been excited before. I see Georgia the brave, the stubborn, the generous, and the woman I love to distraction. But tonight I see yet another side of you. I see the person who was born to assume position and responsibility. I see the translucent skin and delicate bone structure of a woman of noble birth. It is that Georgia I want you to see. It is no accident that you bear yourself the way you do, that you behave the way you do. You cannot help yourself. It is stamped on every fiber of your being, put there by generations of noble breeding.”
Georgia met his eyes in the mirror. “In truth, Nicholas?”
“In truth, my love. In this I would not humor you.”
She nodded. “I know you would not. And I believe you because I believe the same thing is true of you.”
Nicholas shook his head. “How is it that you are always able to turn the conversation around?”
“It must be all those generations of practice,” she said with a mischievous smile. “And, Nicholas?” She ran her eyes over his black tailcoat and black breeches, his white clocked stockings and black kid pumps. His only jewelry was the signet ring that he always wore. The stark simplicity of his costume only emphasized his powerful figure.
“Yes?”
“You look extremely elegant. You are also a fine example of your breeding.”
“I wonder if I ought not to throttle you for that remark,” he said with an amused smile. “Do you think to tease me now, wife?”
“But I meant every word, truly I did. You are extremely dark and handsome, and you look very fine in evening clothes.”
“I don’t know about that, but Binkley professed himself satisfied.” He touched his cravat. “The Oriental, no less. We left behind an enormous pile of crumpled linen, but Binkley is a perfectionist. He was just seeing to Cyril’s final touches when I left. But come, sweetheart. We should go down. Are you ready?”
Georgia picked up her white kid gloves and slid them on. “I don’t know if one could ever be ready for a thing like this, but there’s no point putting off the inevitable.”
“Brave girl—braver than I. Had you said no, I should have been content to sit up here all night with you.”
“I don’t believe you for a minute,” Georgia said. “You just have pre-battle nerves. Remember what Harry said at Agincourt.”
“‘Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, disguise fair nature with hard-favor’d rage’?” He sighed. “I will do my best, for I would never think to disappoint you. But Harry was a king.”
“A king outnumbered five to one. And look what he did.”
Nicholas tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “You keep forgetting I am an ordinary man.”
Georgia gave him a sidelong smile. “So you keep trying to tell me. But as far as I am concerned, you are every bit as much a king in heart as Harry ever was. And tonight your detractors will know it for themselves. You have been very brave, carrying the burden Jacqueline placed on you for all these years. It is the last battle, Nicholas. Tonight shall see an end to it.”
Nicholas muttered something unintelligible, then pulled her out of the room and led her downstairs.
“Madame, monsieur!” Pascal said with a little gasp of delight as they appeared. “Oh, you are truly magnificent! It is just like the pictures in a storybook, the king and the queen going to the ball!”
Georgia gave a smothered laugh. “You see?” she said to Nicholas. “There is no escaping it.”
Binkley, who had been waiting with Pascal, drew himself up. “If I may be permitted to say so, madam, young Pascal is very close to the mark. You look regal indeed. I am quite sure you will make a very fine impression. No one could doubt your fine breeding, not for a moment.”
“Thank you, Binkley. I will try very hard not to let you down.”
Binkley allowed himself a small smile. “I have no concerns, madam. Lord Brabourne is waiting in the carriage, sir. He is a trifle nervous, but well-turned-out.”
“Thank you, Binkley. We are all a trifle nervous. However, Georgia believes it will be a repeat of Agincourt. Unfortunately, she has me pegged as Harry himself.”
“Most apt, madam. I have full confidence that you shall emerge victorious, just as his majesty did.”
“I hope so, Binkley,” Nicholas said. “I do hope so. Pascal, it’s long past your bedtime.”
“Oh, but, monsieur, may I at least watch from the window as the carriage goes away? It is all so grand and exciting.”
“Very well, little man, but then to bed with you and to sleep. We’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” He accepted a hug and waited while Pascal kissed Georgia. “Let us go to our fate, sweetheart,” he said, holding out his hand to her.
Binkley saw them out the door and into the carriage, and he, too, watched as the carriage drove off into the night. And then when it was out of sight he turned and walked back up the steps with a satisfied smile on his face.
“‘Cry “God for Harry! England and Saint George!” ’ ” he said, and shut the door behind him.
Georgia swallowed nervously, her heart knocking against her rib cage as they entered the Clarkes’ house. They were all three of them very, very tense, and had barely exchanged a word in the carriage. Her heart went out to Cyril, for he had something quite different to face than either of them. She wished she could have offered him reassuring words, but she knew there was nothing to be said. She could only pray that this night he would be strong enough to confront his own demons and put them away for all time.
She glanced over at him. His face was pale, his eyes nervously darting around, no doubt for a sign of Jacqueline. Nicholas, on the other hand, looked surprisingly cool and collected as he waited for the footman to take her wrap. And then he tucked her hand back in his elbow, curling his fingers around hers.
“Quite the crush, is it not, my love?” he said to her, leading her through the entrance hall to the ballroom. “Marguerite will be so pleased. Cyril, you must go into the gallery at some point. Lord Clarke has an important collection. There is a particularly fine Van Dyck, not dissimilar to the one at Ravenswalk. Your father and Lord Clarke’s father were great friends and avid collectors. I spent many an hour listening to them discuss art.”
A head turned as he spoke, and then another, and suddenly there’ was a stir. Nicholas ignored it, continuing to chat, but Georgia felt the reassuring pressure of his fingers on hers. They crossed over the threshold of the ballroom, and as more heads turned to see who the new arrivals were, an almost perceptible hush came over the huge glittering room.
Georgia had a fair idea of what they must be thinking: Nicholas the debaucher next to his young cousin, so strikingly similar in looks and no doubt in nature. And herself, the whore of Babylon as Jacqueline had made her out to be, having the gall to appear in their rarefied company. She was surprised that a shriek didn’t go up.
“Perhaps I should have blackened my teeth after all,” she murmured.
Nicholas looked down at her, considering. “I rather like your teeth as they are. They’re so … so French.”
“French?” she said, unable to resist smiling. Nicholas had always had an uncanny ability to lighten her mood.
“I think we have c-created a s-sensation,” Cyril said, looking about uncomfortably.
“We certainly have their attention,” Nicholas replied quietly. “Buck up, coz. Honor is on our side, after all. It will all come out right in the end. Just look as if you’re enjoying yourself vastly. You might as well confuse them.”
A path had parted around them and an excited whispering had begun. It might have been the Red Sea parting, so wide was the sudden gulf. Marguerite realized instantly that they had arrived. She turned from her conversation and smiled broadly, excusing herself.
“How marvelous to see all three of you!” she said, going straight to them through the cleared path, and had a pin dropped, it would have echoed into the sudden silence. “I was wondering when you would arrive; I have been watching for you.” She held out her hands and kissed their cheeks. “Georgia,
ma belle,
you are absolutely enchanting this evening. How the color pink suits you. And what a lovely set of pearls Nicholas has given you! I knew he was intent on spoiling you.” She dropped her voice. “Your timing is perfect. Jacqueline is in the other room. It will give us a few extra minutes to set the stage. Come,” she said, raising her voice again. “I mustn’t stand here monopolizing you. It has been an age since you’ve been in London, Nicholas. No doubt there are many people you wish to speak with. And it is your first time up from Ravenswalk, is it not, Cyril? How handsome you have grown since last I saw you. I must find some young ladies for you to dance with. Georgia, dearest, there are so many people I must introduce you to—we shall be at it all night!”