Plato, who had, after all, founded the science of logic, Mr. Hawkins went on. “And, I must admit that Rousseau has fallen out of favor, what with the unpleasantness in France. However, I cannot see how he can be blamed for what befell the unfortunates there.”
“So you believe that—” Georgiana began, but Mr. Hawkins cut her off with a sniff.
“But, then, the most enlightened men have often suffered for their genius,” he declared.
It didn’t take Georgiana’s keen faculties to determine that the pompous vicar counted himself among the persecuted academics, and Georgiana’s spark of interest was immediately and firmly doused. She would find no intellectual stimulation here, for Mr. Hawkins obviously was in the habit of expounding—not conversing.
Stifling a yawn, she stood there while he tossed off long words and theories in a strange mix that left her certain he understood very little of what he was spouting. No wonder her father had been so eager to be rid of the man! Georgiana was rapidly reaching her limits of endurance, too.
“Ah, there is our hostess!” she said, in an effort to break away, but Mr. Hawkins would not let her go so easily.
“Humph! I am surprised that she has opened her home to so many of her social inferiors, for it has been my experience that those of her rank are rarely cordial to the less fortunate.”
Although Lady Culpepper was prone to the condescending air of the nobility, Georgiana did not find her any worse than most. “I admit that she could be more gracious, but—”
”Gracious?” Mr. Hawkins cut Georgiana off with an unbecoming scoff, an odd vehemence in his voice. “The lady and her kind are not known for their courtesy to others, but lord their wealth and power over the rest of us. I find them frivolous beings with no concerns except their own selfish caprices!”
Mr. Hawkins’s sudden venom surprised Georgiana, but then, as swiftly as it had come over him, the mood was gone, replaced by a rather bland expression. “However, a man in my position must do his best to mingle with society,” he added, as if begrudging his chosen career.
“I would think it your vocation to convince people to be more charitable,” Georgiana noted idly.
Mr. Hawkins responded with a patronizing smile that made her bristle. “It is to your credit that you would think of such things, but I can hardly expect such a beautiful lady to understand the complexities of my position,” he said, and Georgiana was tempted to boot him into a new position with a good swift kick. “Indeed, I vow that you, Miss Bellewether, are the saving grace to a tedious evening spent in ill company.”
If Georgiana had thought the man too full of himself to have noticed her presence, she was sadly mistaken, for even as he spoke warmly of her, his gaze drifted tellingly to her bosom. And for a religious man, he was studying her a little too avidly for her taste. “You must excuse me,” she said abruptly, and hurried off into the crowd before he could launch into another lengthy discourse.
After slipping through the assemblage, keeping her eyes and ears attuned to anything of interest, Georgiana halted behind a tall potted plant, a large fern of some sort, where she listened to several conversations, all of them exceedingly dull. At last, growing restless, she was about to depart when there was a shuffling nearby and the sound of whispered voices, which, as everyone knew, invariably signaled something interesting.
Moving unobtrusively closer, Georgiana peered through the greenery in an effort to catch a glimpse of the speakers. She saw a rather sturdy looking gentleman with a sadly receding hairline whom she immediately recognized at Lord Whalsey, a middle-aged viscount. Rumor had it that he was dangling for a rich wife among those who came to Bath, and, indeed, he was a popular one with the ladies, if a bit full of himself. As she peeked under a particularly large leaf, Georgiana could see him hunched next to a younger man with a rather pinched face, and the two appeared terribly serious. She leaned closer.
“Well? Do you have it?” Whalsey asked, his voice betraying an agitation that immediately seized Georgiana’s attention.
“Er, not exactly,” the other man hedged.
“What the devil? I thought you were going to get it tonight! Demn, Cheever, you swore you could manage this, you—”
“Hold on there,” the man called Cheever said in a placating tone. “You shall have it all right. There’s been a complication, that’s all.”
“What kind of complication?” Whalsey spat. “And it better not cost me more!”
“Well, I’ve run into a bit of difficulty locating it.”
“What do you mean?” Whalsey cried. “You know very well where it is! That’s why we came to this deadly dull backwater!”
“Of course, it’s here, but it’s not lying about in plain view, now is it? I’ve got to make a search for it, and I haven’t had a chance because some bloody idiot’s always around!”
Forgetting about Ashdowne, Georgiana held her breath and stuck her head right into the foliage.
“Who?” Whalsey asked.
“The servants!”
“Well, tonight’s your chance, you dolt! What are you doing standing here?”
“I might as well enjoy a bit of the evening while I’m out, mightn’t I?” Cheever said smoothly. “It hardly seems fair that you’re dancing and frolicking while I’m doing the dirty work!”
Whalsey’s face turned florid, and he opened his mouth as if to shout, but, to Georgiana’s disappointment, he appeared to recover himself, lowering his voice until she had to strain to hear. “If you’re angling for more money, I told you I haven’t a penny to—”
Frustrated by the inaudible words, Georgiana leaned forward a little too far. The plant, berthed in an elegant urn, tipped slightly and, caught in its growth, she too swayed precariously. With a low gasp, she reached for a heavy leaf, hoping to right both the shrub and herself, but lost her balance. For one moment, Georgiana seemed to hang in the air, staring at the horrified faces of Lord Whalsey and Cheever.
So intent was she upon the fleeing twosome as they hurried away that Georgiana did not see the other man approaching. Only after she veered violently in the other direction in an attempt to regain her footing did she glimpse him. And then, of course, it was too late. Both she and the wretched plant toppled directly into him, sending all three of them to the floor in a heap.
Vaguely Georgiana heard startled gasps from around her as she struggled to separate herself from the thick leaves. She was on the carpet, her legs all tangled up with those of the man who lay beneath her, and her gown had risen scandalously to expose her ankles. Worst of all, she had missed hearing more about the nefarious plot she was certain the two men were hatching. Botheration!
Blowing away a fat curl, Georgiana pushed off the floor in an effort to sit, only to hear a pained grunt from below as her knee connected with a certain portion of male anatomy. With a cry of dismay, Georgiana jerked upward, but she was stopped by her twisted skirts and fell forward once more.
More gasps went up from around her and then Georgiana felt firm hands upon her waist as she lifted her head only to recoil in horror at the face that came into view. Dark brows were no longer raised in arrogance but lowered in a disturbing manner that made the elegant features below them appear rather
