Impetuous Innocent. Stephanie Laurens

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 evening gown. But nothing too elaborate,” she added, as the groom opened the door.

      Together they entered the discreet establishment of Fancon. A woman dressed in severe black glided forward to greet them. Her black hair was pulled back and, it appeared to Georgiana, forcibly restrained in a tight bun. Black eyes, like gimlets, sharp and shuttered, assessed her. This, she soon learned, was the great Fancon herself. Imbued with suitable awe, Georgiana noted a certain restraint in the woman’s manner and was careful to give no cause for offence.

      Half an hour passed in the most pleasant of occupations. Fancon had numerous gowns to choose from. Georgiana tried on a great many. There were fabrics, too, which could be fashioned to any style she wished. Georgiana found Bella’s interest infectious. And she could not resist the temptation to indulge in Fancon’s elegant creations. However, true to her word, she chose only two day dresses, one in softest lilac, the other a deep mauve. Both suited her well, their high waists outlining her youthful figure. She feared that Fancon would be irritated by her meagre order, particularly after the woman had been so insistent she try on such a great number of gowns. Yet nothing but the most complete equanimity showed on the modiste’s stern face.

      Much discussion went into the creation of an evening gown. The styles which favoured her were easy enough to decide. Yet there was nothing suitable made up.

      “Your colouring, Miss Hartley, is less pale than the norm. It is no matter. We will decide on the fabric, and I will have my seamstresses work up the gown by tomorrow.” With a calm wave of her hand, Fancon summoned her underlings. They brought bolts of fine cloth, in mauves and lilacs. While Georgiana stood, wreathed in fabric, Bella and Fancon studied her critically. Georgiana, too, watched proceedings in the mirror.

      “It must show you off to your greatest advantage,” declared Bella.

      Georgiana seriously doubted that companions were chosen for the picture they made in the ballroom.

      Fancon turned and murmured a command. A minute later, a fresh selection of materials arrived. Sea-green gauze, spangled and shimmering, was draped around Georgiana. The assistant stood back, and Georgiana raised her eyes to the mirror. She gasped. Was the slim, slender mermaid she saw there really herself? The green brought out the lights in her hair and eyes, and emphasised the creaminess of her skin. She stood and stared. Then, slowly, she shook her head sadly.

      “Not yet. I’m still in mourning, remember?”

      Another murmur from Fancon saw a deep topaz silk replace the sea-green gauze. Again, Georgiana stared. This time she looked almost as worldly as Bella. The silk added an air of allure, of mystery. She looked…enticing. But again she refused.

      Apparently resigned to using the purplish hues, Fancon next produced a pale amethyst silk. Georgiana regarded it critically. The colour suited her well enough, making her appear soft and feminine. But the amethyst simply did not do for her what the previous two shades had. In this, she simply looked passably pretty. She turned and looked longingly at the topaz and the sea-green, lying discarded beside her. Still, she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted from her purpose. Doubtless ladies who needed companions would approve of the amethyst silk.

      “Yes. I’ll take this fabric. And the pattern we agreed on.”

      Georgiana turned in time to catch the look that passed between Bella and Fancon. It was a look that bespoke an understanding, but she got no further clue to assist in its interpretation.

      While they waited for the two day dresses to be packed, Georgiana reflected that