Page 44

SOMETHING OF A SPECTACLE

A nderson walked to hand down the occupant of the awaiting carriage. “Thank you for coming.”

“I could hardly refuse after the abominable way you treated poor George. Somebody must help you fix things.” As soon as her feet touched the ground, Lady Penelope Frey dropped his hand. “That had better be the last time you ever abandon my friend, Mr Anderson.”

It had never been his intention to forsake Georgette, only to absent himself from the intolerable scrutiny of Saye’s guests.

Yet to have departed as he did, to have occasioned such pain and humiliation to the person dearest to him in all the world, was abhorrent to him.

And he knew he had hurt her, for it was not concern for his happiness that had brought Saye chasing after him.

He hoped matters would soon be remedied.

His indolent rakehell of a brother had been dispatched to attend to their grandmother, with threats of withheld allowances if he did not comply.

Lady Penelope had been lured north with the inducement of making a nuisance of herself.

And Anderson had spent the last two days, against all his natural inclinations, shopping for extravagant evening attire.

He would make amends with Georgette if it was the last thing he did.

“Your ladyship has my word.”

Lady Penelope gave a curt nod and set off towards the house. “Come, then. Let us get you an audience with Hawkridge.”

It was a while since Anderson had been to Georgette’s family home, a well-proportioned and imposing house designed to loom over approaching visitors.

On his previous visit, Georgette had met him at the front door when he arrived—and waved him goodbye from her bedroom window as he was escorted off the premises by her eldest brother.

He sincerely hoped this audience would end differently.

“I can see why George likes you,” Lady Penelope said abruptly.

Anderson was disconcerted to discover her unashamedly appraising his person.

“Do not look so astonished. I can appreciate a thing without wishing to play with it. You do not advertise it as most other young fops your age do, but on close inspection, you are agreeably well formed. ”

Anderson hoped that was as close as she would ever attempt to inspect him but would put nothing past the woman about whom he had heard such outrageous tales from Georgette. He was relieved when the door opened, and she ceased staring at him.

The footman recognised him instantly, and it looked as though he would close the door again directly until Lady Penelope barged past him into the lobby. Anderson followed, the servant too busy tripping after her to notice him.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am?—”

“Why, what have you done?” she interrupted as she nonchalantly reached past him to lay her bonnet on the hall table.

“Nothing, ma’am, I?—”

“Then why did you apologise?”

“I did not?—”

“You most certainly did, and now you are arguing with me as well. Are you the master of this house?”

“No, I?—”

“Then you will cease addressing me in this scandalous manner and inform Mr Hawkridge he has visitors.” She began removing her gloves, making plain her intention to remain in the house.

“I am afraid?—”

“Of what?”

“Pardon?”

“You said you were afraid. What has frightened you? ”

“I—I am not afraid.”

“Then why did you say you were?”

“I beg your pardon?—”

“Why, what have you done now?”

“Nothing, ma’am! If you would?—”

“I cannot fathom why Mr Hawkridge has such an impertinent upstart in his employ, but unless you would like me to give you something of which to be afraid, you will run along, tout de suite , and inform your master that Lady Penelope Frey wishes to see him. Make haste, I have somewhere to be.”

He evidently recognised the name, for his eyes widened. “I am certain Mr Hawkridge would be happy to receive you, Lady Penelope, but he is not at home to that gentleman.” The servant glanced at Anderson.

Her ladyship whipped her gloves across the palm of one hand, making the footman jump. “Where is Mr Hawkridge?”

After a brief pause to own his defeat, the man admitted, “In his study, ma’am.”

“Then inform him I have arrived.”

The footman left.

“That was unpleasant,” Anderson remarked.

Lady Penelope made a noise of contempt. “You asked me to get you in front of Hawkridge. You did not say I had to mollycoddle his servants while I was at it.”

Neither had he suggested she ought to abuse them, but he refrained from commenting further. Lady Penelope could be a fearsome creature, and he needed her on his side if he was to have any hope of getting close enough to make his application. Better to allow her to have her fun.

“You have a nerve, Anderson!” boomed Georgette’s father as he appeared at the head of the stairs, red faced and scowling.

Anderson bowed in a manner he hoped appeared respectful and prayed his antipathy was not obvious.

“There you are, Grammaticus!” said Lady Penelope, already making her way up the stairs. “I began to wonder whether your dimwit of a footman would ever pass on my message.”

“Lady Penelope, what a pleasure,” replied Hawkridge in a tone that made clear it was anything but. “Have you forgotten that my sister is married now and no longer lives here?”

“Of course not. I saw her only last week, in fact. Her husband is away again, and she came to me for some company. Such a delightful time we had!” She reached the top step and stood to her full height with a flourish.

“And unless you would like me to detail all the specifics of our time together for your entire household to hear, I suggest you take Mr Anderson and me somewhere we can speak more privately.”

“I should have you thrown out,” he said darkly.

“Absolutely, but you won’t, so let us get on with it.”

He turned on his heel and stalked away along the landing. Lady Penelope gestured for Anderson to follow, and he took the stairs two at a time in his haste to catch up before Hawkridge changed his mind and had them both ejected from the house.

“You have three minutes, and then I shall have you removed again.”

Anderson inclined his head and kept his expression neutral. There were very few people in the world he overtly disliked, but here sat one of them, in all his corpulent glory. “I would like your consent to marry your daughter.”

“And I shall not give it. I thought I had made that clear the last time you asked.”

“Abundantly, sir.”

“Did you think I might have changed my mind?”

“I hoped I might change it for you.”

“Have you severed all connexion with your blasted institution?”

“I have not.”

“Then you are wasting my time and your own.”

“Those children would die if I did not provide for them, sir. I shall never step away from my responsibilities there.”

“Are you wholly without compassion, Grammaticus?” enquired Lady Penelope.

He turned to her. “We both know I have more compassion in my little finger than your ladyship possesses in her entire body. Besides, I thought you despised children.”

“I despise you, too, but that does not mean I wish you to die. Although that would resolve Mr Anderson’s problem rather neatly.”

“I do not suggest that Mr Anderson’s undertaking is not commendable.

That has never been my concern.” He pointed a finger at Anderson, though he continued talking to Lady Penelope as though he could not bring himself to look at the source of his disgust. “I will not have Georgette scorned, reviled, and harried into madness in the same way his mother was.”

“You discredit your daughter more with this underestimation of her character than if the whole world were to ridicule her for marrying me,” Anderson retorted. “Yes, my mother lost her wits, God rest her soul, but she was never a strong woman. She found life difficult, even before it became so.

“Your daughter laughs in the face of difficulty. I have never met any person so unafraid of living, and I do not mean because she has the fortune to buy her way out of any unpleasantness, but because she loves life— all life. Whether it is the children at my institution, her friends and family, the fools who make sport of her affection for me, or a darned stray cat—she takes pleasure in all of it. If you think the censure of a few bitter ladies with pretensions to consequence is enough to send her distracted, then you do not know her at all. Furthermore, if you force her to marry someone who does not value her beautiful joie de vivre , you will condemn her to a life of abject misery.”

“Well said!” Lady Penelope exclaimed.

“Thank you for explaining my own daughter’s character to me, Mr Anderson,” Hawkridge said coldly. “I am sure I thought her a sweet, tractable creature until this moment. But it changes nothing. My answer is still no.”

Anderson sighed aloud. “I thought you might say that. If my avowals and Miss Hawkridge’s wishes are not sufficient to persuade you, then perhaps this will.” He vastly enjoyed the flash of alarm on Hawkridge’s face and Lady Penelope’s eager interest as he reached into his inside pocket.

Georgette closed her bedchamber door behind her and leant against it, exhaling heavily.

Her face ached from the smile she had kept on it throughout every interminable activity her cousins had foisted upon them these past two days.

Lady Aurelia’s poetry reading two nights prior, which her brothers had sabotaged by spiriting the men away, one at a time, for a billiards tournament.

Saye’s absurd game of croquet on a frozen field, which had infuriated his sister as it prevented anyone attending her tour of the winter gardens.

The shambolic last-minute dance practice for which Saye had summoned an eminent and exorbitant dancing master.

And Lady Aurelia’s extravagant luncheon just now, which nobody had wanted, for who was hungry two hours after breakfast?