did not mean now,’ he said. ‘I was just about to leave.’
‘Oh, but—’ Stepmama began in desperation.
‘No, no, really, I have pressing commitments elsewhere. But perhaps...’
‘Yes?’
‘You will permit me to call upon you?’
‘We should be delighted!’ Stepmama beamed at him. ‘Should we not, Georgiana?’ she said pointedly, giving her another tap across her still-stinging wrist with a fan that felt as though its struts were made of oak.
‘Delighted,’ she said, with a smile. A big, false smile.
‘In that case, you must furnish me with your direction, you know.’
Stepmama rattled it off and urged him to repeat it to make sure he wouldn’t forget it.
He merely gave her a curt nod. ‘I shall not forget,’ he said. And stalked off.
‘Well,’ said Stepmama, using her fan for the purpose for which it was intended, for once. ‘What do you think of that?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Georgiana, regarding his retreating back with a frown.
‘Oh, you are so dense sometimes, Georgiana, I despair of you. It is quite simple. We’ve been in Town only two weeks and already we can claim visiting rights with two viscounts and an earl. If I don’t see my Sukey married to a title before the Season is out then I’ll...’
‘Eat your fan?’
‘Eat my fan? Eat my fan? Why on earth should I do something so absurd? And really, where do you get such vulgar expressions from?’ Stepmama wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘Well, never mind that for now. It is all of a piece with the rest of your behaviour. You are never going to get a husband if you will loiter in the retiring room, or the furthest corner of the salon from where the most eligible men are standing, or come out with vulgar expressions like that when someone does finally get into conversation with you.’
She rolled her lips inwards, a sure sign that she had plenty more to say, but was determined to save it for later.
‘Which is why I came over here in the first place. I noted a gentleman come in who may be just the thing for you. A cavalry officer, if I know anything about uniforms. Come along, Georgiana,’ she said, seizing her by the wrist. ‘We need to get him to notice you before either of those Pargetter girls get their talons into him.’
Mrs Wickford’s drawing room was already crowded by the time Edmund called the next day. He could hear the hubbub of voices the moment a rather jaded-looking butler opened the front door.
The fellow’s demeanour underwent a transformation the moment Edmund handed over his card.
‘Would you care to step this way, my lord,’ he said, making for the stairs.
‘No need for you to show me up,’ said Edmund. ‘I am sure I can find the way.’
The butler winced. ‘Indeed, my lord,’ he said apologetically. Though whether from insinuating that he might get lost in such a small house, or for the noise emanating from the upper floors which made his guidance unnecessary, it was impossible to tell.
Edmund mounted the single, narrow flight of stairs swiftly and found his way to the drawing room which overlooked the street without the slightest difficulty.
The first person he saw was Mrs Wickford. It was impossible to miss her, since she was presiding over a tea table stationed right beside the door.
‘Why, Lord Ashenden,’ Georgiana’s stepmother cooed as she lifted the teapot. ‘What an unexpected honour. I did not expect you to call upon us this morning.’
‘Did you not? When I specifically said I would do so?’
‘Ah but, no,’ she said shaking her head in what he assumed she intended as a playful manner. ‘You only said you would call. You made no mention of which day you might honour us with your presence. And what with you having so many more pressing concerns than us, I really did not expect you to fulfil your generous offer to look in upon your former neighbours quite so soon.’
She pressed a cup of tea into his hand. ‘Sukey is just there,’ she said, waving in the direction of a sofa containing a gaggle of girls sporting blonde ringlets. ‘Do go and make yourself known to her. We are being quite informal this morning, as you see.’
What he saw was a most efficient system of processing callers and sending them in the direction she wished them to go. Which was towards the giggling blondes if they were male, to judge from the assortment of gentlemen hovering round them. The matrons were all sitting on another sofa, sipping tea and watching.
Georgiana, however, was as far away from everyone else as she could possibly get, just like last night. The only difference today was that she was not occupying the far corner on her own. She had the company of a hulking great brute of a man wearing the garish uniform of a cavalry regiment.
Since he intended to call upon this house regularly, he forced himself to smile politely at Mrs Wickford. And then, since he really needed to keep in her good books, he strolled to the sofa on which the blonde girls sat and stood sipping his tea, pretending to pay attention to them prattling on about some nonsense or other, whilst actually listening to the cavalry officer belabouring Georgiana with a detailed account of a hunt in which, naturally, he’d led the field.
When his cup was empty, he set it down, accorded the trio of blondes a nod, then sauntered across to the corner into which, if he wasn’t mistaken, the cavalry officer had pinned Georgiana. She was wearing another pale, insubstantial gown which revealed far too much for his liking, in spite of having long sleeves. The cavalry officer appeared to like it, though. In fact, he was enjoying the view down its tightly fitted front so much that he appeared to have forgotten he was holding a cup and saucer in one hand. The saucer was rapidly filling with the liquid from the cup, which was tilting at a steadily increasing angle.
Edmund quirked one eyebrow and shook his head in reproof. Georgiana, who’d been watching him approach, lifted her chin and glared at him over the officer’s shoulder. Ah, well. What else was new?
‘Good morning, Miss Wickford,’ he said softly, making the officer start and spill what remained of the tea that had gathered in his saucer down his scarlet jacket. ‘Won’t you introduce me to your new friend?’
Georgiana’s lips compressed in annoyance. As though to say the man wasn’t her friend at all. However, manners obliged her to provide the information he’d requested.
‘Lord Ashenden, this is Major Gowan.’
Major Gowan looked torn between reaching for a napkin to mop up the tea trickling down the front of his jacket and sticking out his hand to shake. Edmund solved his dilemma by whisking a handkerchief from his own pocket and extending it to the Major. The action also solved his own dilemma, borne of his extreme reluctance to extend his hand to this man in friendship. Or even common politeness.
‘Thank you, my lord,’
