Never Judge a Lady by Her Cover
Page 49
Nonetheless, she met his gaze across the room, excitement and nervousness spiraling in the pit of her stomach.
Tonight was tomorrow night.
I am in control.
The thought of his words from the prior evening, of their promise, sent a wash of color across her cheeks. She tore her gaze away.
Good Lord. It was possible she’d made a terrible mistake in making such a bold, brazen suggestion. Now she was going to have to go through with it.
She’d never simultaneously wanted and been terrified of something so much.
“What has you so interested in Duncan West?”
And it was clearly, thoroughly obvious.
She turned her gaze to Lord Langley, affecting surprise. “My lord?”
Langley smiled, all affability. “I am not without powers of observation.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
His brows rose. “You only make the situation more curious with your protests.” She let him twirl her across the room, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. He did not wait for her to find her words, continuing. “I suppose it is gratitude?”
“My lord?” This time she did not have to affect anything. Duncan West was making her terribly nervous simply by breathing. Why would she be grateful for that?
“He is doing excellent work in bringing your qualities to the attention of the ton.” He smiled, self-deprecating. “I suppose that when West is done, you shan’t even give me a second look.”
It seemed that Langley noticed more than she’d given him credit for. “I doubt that, my lord,” she said. “Indeed, it is you who condescends to be seen with me.”
He smiled. “You are very good at that.”
“At what?”
“At making it seem as though I am a catch.”
“You are a catch,” she insisted.
He smiled, and she recognized the irony that others would not see. Chase recognized the irony. “I am no such thing. I’m impoverished. Can barely afford the shoes on my feet.”
She made a show of looking down at them. “They are exceedingly well polished, if for the holes.” When he laughed, she added, “My lord, I am said to be impoverished in any number of other ways – ways that cannot be so easily rectified.”
He watched her carefully. “Then I am to be grateful for the title?”
“I would be.” The words were out before she could stop them. Before she could realize how many different and inappropriate ways they could be taken. “I did not mean —”
He smiled. “I know what you meant.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think you do. I merely meant that any number of others would happily trade places with you.”
“Do you know anyone?” He smirked.
Her gaze flickered over his shoulder again, to the place in the crowd where Duncan West’s golden hair gleamed, his height making him thoroughly visible. She wondered – if he could trade it, would he take the title?
If he had a title —
She did not allow herself to finish the thought. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Aha,” he announced. “So you admit that titles are not all they are cracked up to be.”
She smiled. “They do seem to be a great deal of requirement and obligation.”
“I was not supposed to have the obligation,” he said, wistfully.
“Damn distant infertile cousins,” she said, her hand flying to her lips to stop the words after they’d been spoken.
He laughed loud enough to draw attention from fellow dancers. “You are more than you seem, Lady Georgiana.”
She thought of the file in her office. Disliked the guilt that came with the idea that she might have to use it to win him. She smiled up at him. “As are you, my lord.”
He grew quiet at that, and she wondered if he realized what she was saying. What she knew. What she was willing to use if need be.
Her gaze flickered to West, still standing sentry, this time with a companion.
Tremley.
She would have barely noticed their conversation a week earlier – but now, there was something about them, about the way Tremley smiled that smile that did not reach his eyes, and the way West stood, strangely stiff, unsettled.
She owed West the information on Tremley – the file now filled with the secrets his wife had shared. But now, watching them together, she wondered at their connection. Why was he so interested in the earl? How had he known there were such secrets to be had?
Something unsettling curled through her as she watched, and then the dance required a turn, and she exhaled her irritation at this world, where she was beholden to custom instead of her own curiosity.
They were at the edge of the room now, near to the doors that stood open onto a crowded balcony. Langley looked down at her. “Shall we take some air?”
It was possible Langley had noticed that she’d overimbibed.
And perhaps it was a good thing that he had, as outside would distract her from Duncan West, and anything that distracted her from Duncan West this evening was a good thing.
Langley guided her to the edge of the ballroom, past a lone woman standing at its edge – Lady Mary Ashehollow, alone, bereft of suitors. Georgiana experienced a slight tinge of remorse at the young woman’s sad eyes.
She paused on Langley’s arm. “Lady Mary,” she acknowledged, willing the girl to show some remorse.
The girl scowled and turned her back on Georgiana, an undeniable, public cut direct.
Georgiana raised a brow, and returned her attention to Langley, who had been shocked by the interaction. They pushed outside onto a balcony, where half a dozen people played chaperone. He walked her to the balustrade, away from the others, and she placed her hands on the stone, drawing a deep breath of cool air, hoping it would stop her spinning head.
Tonight was tomorrow night.
I am in control.
The thought of his words from the prior evening, of their promise, sent a wash of color across her cheeks. She tore her gaze away.
Good Lord. It was possible she’d made a terrible mistake in making such a bold, brazen suggestion. Now she was going to have to go through with it.
She’d never simultaneously wanted and been terrified of something so much.
“What has you so interested in Duncan West?”
And it was clearly, thoroughly obvious.
She turned her gaze to Lord Langley, affecting surprise. “My lord?”
Langley smiled, all affability. “I am not without powers of observation.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
His brows rose. “You only make the situation more curious with your protests.” She let him twirl her across the room, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. He did not wait for her to find her words, continuing. “I suppose it is gratitude?”
“My lord?” This time she did not have to affect anything. Duncan West was making her terribly nervous simply by breathing. Why would she be grateful for that?
“He is doing excellent work in bringing your qualities to the attention of the ton.” He smiled, self-deprecating. “I suppose that when West is done, you shan’t even give me a second look.”
It seemed that Langley noticed more than she’d given him credit for. “I doubt that, my lord,” she said. “Indeed, it is you who condescends to be seen with me.”
He smiled. “You are very good at that.”
“At what?”
“At making it seem as though I am a catch.”
“You are a catch,” she insisted.
He smiled, and she recognized the irony that others would not see. Chase recognized the irony. “I am no such thing. I’m impoverished. Can barely afford the shoes on my feet.”
She made a show of looking down at them. “They are exceedingly well polished, if for the holes.” When he laughed, she added, “My lord, I am said to be impoverished in any number of other ways – ways that cannot be so easily rectified.”
He watched her carefully. “Then I am to be grateful for the title?”
“I would be.” The words were out before she could stop them. Before she could realize how many different and inappropriate ways they could be taken. “I did not mean —”
He smiled. “I know what you meant.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think you do. I merely meant that any number of others would happily trade places with you.”
“Do you know anyone?” He smirked.
Her gaze flickered over his shoulder again, to the place in the crowd where Duncan West’s golden hair gleamed, his height making him thoroughly visible. She wondered – if he could trade it, would he take the title?
If he had a title —
She did not allow herself to finish the thought. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Aha,” he announced. “So you admit that titles are not all they are cracked up to be.”
She smiled. “They do seem to be a great deal of requirement and obligation.”
“I was not supposed to have the obligation,” he said, wistfully.
“Damn distant infertile cousins,” she said, her hand flying to her lips to stop the words after they’d been spoken.
He laughed loud enough to draw attention from fellow dancers. “You are more than you seem, Lady Georgiana.”
She thought of the file in her office. Disliked the guilt that came with the idea that she might have to use it to win him. She smiled up at him. “As are you, my lord.”
He grew quiet at that, and she wondered if he realized what she was saying. What she knew. What she was willing to use if need be.
Her gaze flickered to West, still standing sentry, this time with a companion.
Tremley.
She would have barely noticed their conversation a week earlier – but now, there was something about them, about the way Tremley smiled that smile that did not reach his eyes, and the way West stood, strangely stiff, unsettled.
She owed West the information on Tremley – the file now filled with the secrets his wife had shared. But now, watching them together, she wondered at their connection. Why was he so interested in the earl? How had he known there were such secrets to be had?
Something unsettling curled through her as she watched, and then the dance required a turn, and she exhaled her irritation at this world, where she was beholden to custom instead of her own curiosity.
They were at the edge of the room now, near to the doors that stood open onto a crowded balcony. Langley looked down at her. “Shall we take some air?”
It was possible Langley had noticed that she’d overimbibed.
And perhaps it was a good thing that he had, as outside would distract her from Duncan West, and anything that distracted her from Duncan West this evening was a good thing.
Langley guided her to the edge of the ballroom, past a lone woman standing at its edge – Lady Mary Ashehollow, alone, bereft of suitors. Georgiana experienced a slight tinge of remorse at the young woman’s sad eyes.
She paused on Langley’s arm. “Lady Mary,” she acknowledged, willing the girl to show some remorse.
The girl scowled and turned her back on Georgiana, an undeniable, public cut direct.
Georgiana raised a brow, and returned her attention to Langley, who had been shocked by the interaction. They pushed outside onto a balcony, where half a dozen people played chaperone. He walked her to the balustrade, away from the others, and she placed her hands on the stone, drawing a deep breath of cool air, hoping it would stop her spinning head.
