Impetuous Innocent. Stephanie Laurens

opposite seat, Bella leant forward and spoke to her coachman. “Once around the park for luck. Then back to Green Street.”

      The carriage moved off. Georgiana sat quietly, wondering a little at the revelations of the sumptuous sea-green and topaz silks. Could she really appear like that? Her? Little Georgiana?

      Bella also sat quietly, smugly satisfied with the outcome of her scheming. She had been to see Fancon the day before, while Arthur had taken Georgiana to see her banker. The modiste knew her well; she was, after all, one of her best customers. Fancon had been most helpful, particularly after she had let fall the information that a certain peer was most desirous that Georgiana should be well presented, and hence money was no option. Dominic could hardly take exception to that. Bella grinned. She had little doubt Fancon would guess who the gentleman was. Who other than her brother would be likely to leave a young girl in her care?

      “Bella, there’s been some mistake. We have six boxes instead of two.”

      Georgiana’s words reclaimed Bella’s attention. She turned and found Georgiana frowning at the offending extra boxes. “No, no,” said Bella. “It’s all right. I bought some gowns, too. I couldn’t resist after seeing you in them, and we’re much of a size.” All of which, Bella told her conscience, was perfectly true.

      Georgiana raised her brows but said no more.

      Bella returned to her absent-minded contemplation of the pavements. Undoubtedly she’d have to argue hard and fast to get Georgiana to accept the gowns she had bought. But none of them were in colours she, so much darker of hair and fairer of skin, could wear. The sea-green gauze and topaz silk would look hideous on her. They were to be delivered tomorrow, along with the amethyst silk. Surely Georgie would see what a waste it would be simply to throw them away?

      As the barouche turned into the park, Bella sat up straighter. She looked across at Georgiana, sitting quietly beside her. Demure she might look, but Georgiana Hartley had a mind of her own. Stubborn to a fault, she was sure to balk at accepting what she would probably class as charity. Still, Bella was perfectly certain Dominic would have wanted her to spend his money as she had. She was sure he would approve, when he saw Georgiana in the topaz silk. And, after all, Georgiana should be grateful enough to want to please her brother. She made a mental note to remember Dominic, if she had need of further ammunition to force Georgiana to accept the gowns.

      “IT’S MY ‘at home’ this afternoon.” Bella came bustling into the downstairs parlour.

      Georgiana looked up from the magazine she was idly leafing through. She felt supremely confident this morning, arrayed in one of her new gowns, a soft bluey lilac cambric. Bella’s elegance seemed less daunting now. She caught Bella’s eye as it rested pensively upon her. Georgiana raised one fine brow in invitation.

      “About the story we should tell about you. To account for your being here.”

      “What about the truth?” asked Georgiana, not quite sure what her friend meant.

      “Well, yes. The truth, of course. But…do you think the whole truth’s wise?”

      When Georgiana looked her confusion, Bella continued, “You see, if you tell about how you met Dominic, people might get the wrong idea. To support your story, you’d have to explain about Charles. And, my dear, if you’re looking for a position, the last person you would want to claim kinship with is Charles.”

      Bella had put a great deal of thought into how best to broach this most delicate of subjects. Now she watched Georgiana carefully to see how the younger girl took her suggestion. Georgiana was frowning, her thoughts clouding her big eyes.

      “You mean…?”

      “What I mean,” said Bella, candid to a fault, “is that Charles is hardly a gold-plated reference. But there’s really no need to mention him at all. All we have to do is decide how you came to stay with me. I think the most sensible thing to say is that we had met, years ago, at Candlewick, before you went to Italy. We became such friends that we’ve been corresponding ever since. Naturally, when you returned to England and found your uncle dead, you came back to London to stay with me. That should be believable enough, don’t you think?” When Georgiana made no reply, Bella pressed her final argument. “And you wouldn’t want to put Dominic in a difficult position, would you?”

      Put Lord Alton in a difficult position? For a minute, Georgiana could make no sense of her friend’s allusion. Then the Fragonard materialised in her mind’s eye…and the image of his lordship as she had last seen him, a vision that had not yet faded from her memory.

      “Oh.”

      Of course. Georgiana gave herself a mental shake. She wasn’t so innocent that she couldn’t follow Bella’s drift. While her visit with Lord Alton had been utterly without consequence, society, if it heard of it, might view it otherwise. She raised her gaze to Bella’s face. “I’ll do whatever you think best. I wouldn’t want to cause your brother any trouble.”

      Bella grinned, entirely satisfied.

      “Oh, and one last thing. It will be better, at this stage, if we make no mention of your wish for a position. Such things are better negotiated after you’re known.”

      Georgiana nodded her acceptance, Lord Alton’s assurance that his sister knew what was best echoing in her mind.

      That afternoon three matrons came to tea, bringing with them a gaggle of unmarried daughters. Georgiana did not succeed in fixing which young ladies belonged to which mama. In the end, it made little difference. To a woman, they accepted Bella’s charmingly phrased explanation of her presence. Quick eyes surveyed the latest entrant in the marriage game. The ladies found no reason not to be gracious. Miss Hartley was no beauty.

      Miss Hartley had difficulty subduing her mirth. They were really so blatant in their pursuit of well heeled and preferably titled son-in-laws.

      To her surprise, Georgiana found conversing with the younger ladies almost beyond her. Used to dealing with the gracious conversation of the Italian aristocracy, among whom she had spent much of her life, used to the subtle ebb and flow of polished discourse, she found it hard to relate to the titters and smirks and girlish giggles of the four very proper English maids. However, she did not make the mistake of attempting to join the matrons. Stoically, she bore her ordeal as best she could.

      Bella, watching her, was pleased by her confidence and innate poise. Innocent and trusting Georgiana might be, but she was no mindless ninny, scared to open her mouth in company. Her manners were assured, unusually so for a girl of her age.

      When the guests had departed, Bella grimaced at Georgiana. “Witless, aren’t they?” She smiled at Georgiana’s emphatic nod. “They’re not all like that, of course. Still, there are a lot of unbelievably silly girls about.” Bella paused, considering her words. “Just as well, I suppose. There are an awful lot of silly men, too.”

      They shared a grin of complete understanding.

      Five minutes later, just as they had settled comfortably to their embroidery, Johnson entered. “Lady Winterspoon, m’lady.”

      Bella rose. Georgiana was disconcerted to see perturbation in her friend’s blue eyes. Then Lady Winterspoon was in the room.

      “Bella! Haven’t seen you in ages! Where’ve you been hiding yourself?”

      Lady Winterspoon’s trenchant accents reverberated through the room. Bella suffered a hug and a hearty kiss and, looking slightly shaken, settled her ageing guest in an armchair. Lady Winterspoon was, Georgiana guessed, quite old enough to be Bella’s mother. Who was she?

      “Amelia, I’d like you to meet Georgiana Hartley. She’s an old friend of mine from the country. Georgiana, this is my sister-in-law.”

      Georgiana met the clear grey gaze and found herself smiling warmly in response. Lord Winsmere’s sister, of course.

      “Hartley, hmm? Well, I probably knew your father, if he’s the one I’m thinking of. Painter fellow. Jimmy? James? Married Lorien Putledge.”