Stephanie Laurens - Impetuous Innocent

“I can only take so much of this place. Too much mindless talk addles the brain.”

Georgiana felt the sharp grey eyes assessing her. She wondered whether she would pass muster.

A wry smile twisted Amelia Winterspoon’s thin lips. “Just as I thought. Not in the common style.”

The old lady paused. Georgiana had the impression she was reliving long-ago evenings spent under the candlelight of ballroom chandeliers. Then, abruptly, the grey gaze sharpened and swung to her face.

“If you’re old enough to heed advice, here’s one piece you should take to heart. You ain’t a beauty, but you’re no antidote either. You’re different—and not just because you’re fair when the current craze is for dark. The most successful women who’ve ever trod these boards were those who were brave enough to be themselves.”

“Themselves?”

“Themselves,” came the forceful answer. “Don’t put on airs, nor pretend to be what you ain’t. Thankfully, you seem in no danger of doing that. Don’t try to ape the English misses. Don’t try to lose your foreignness—use it instead. All you need to make a go of it is to smile and enjoy yourself. The rest’ll come easy.”

“But—” Georgiana wondered whether she should explain her situation to Arthur’s sister. Maybe she could help her find a position?

“No buts, girl! Just do it! There’s no point in wasting your life away being a wallflower. Get out and enjoy yourself.” Lady Winterspoon used her cane to gesture at the dance-floor. “Now go on—off you go!”

Despite the conviction that she should feel piqued at such forthright meddling, Georgiana found herself grinning, then laughing as Lady Winterspoon nodded encouragingly. Rising, Georgiana swept a curtsy to her ladyship, now comfortably ensconced, and, a smile lingering on her lips, returned to the throng. She made her way to where she had left Bella.

But Bella was no longer in sight.

Perturbed, Georgiana stood still and wondered what to do. She could go back and sit with Lady Winterspoon, only she would probably drive her off again. English social strictures were not Georgiana’s strong suit. Still, she rather suspected she should not wander about the rooms alone. Suddenly she realised she was frowning.

Lady Winterspoon’s strong voice still echoed in her mind. “Enjoy yourself!”

Georgiana lifted her head. She had been introduced to Italian society at the age of sixteen. Surely, at the ripe old age of eighteen, she could manage such a simple social occasion as this? Consciously drawing about herself the cloak of social calm her father’s female patrons had impressed on her was the hallmark of a lady, she stepped out more confidently to search for Bella—not hurriedly, in a frenzy, but in a calm and dignified way, smiling as she went.

As she moved slowly down the room, truly looking about her for the first time that evening, she heard snatches of conversation wafting from the groups she passed.

“Did you see that Emma Michinford? Making such sheep’s eyes at…”

“Well, we all know what he’s after!”

“She’s really rather pathetic, don’t you agree?”

“Not that it’ll come to anything, mark my words. The likes of him…”

Waspish, biting, cutting gibes…The comments blurred into a melody typical, Georgiana suspected, of the place. Her smile grew.

“Oh!” Her elbow jogged that of another stroller. “I’m so sorry. Pray excuse me.”

“Gladly, my dear, if you’ll tell me what could possibly be so amusing in Almack’s.”

The languid tones of the gentleman bowing before her were, Georgiana judged, devoid of menace. He was very neatly and correctly attired, soberly so. His blue coat was well cut, his satin breeches without a crease. Brown hair, stylishly but not rakishly cut, framed a pleasant face. There was nothing one could put a finger on to account for the air of elegance which clung to him.

As he continued to look at her with mild curiosity, Georgiana, Lady Winterspoon’s dictum still fresh in her mind, answered him truthfully. “It was merely the conversation, caught in snippets as I walked about. It’s—” she put her head on one side as she considered her words “—rather single-minded, if you know what I mean.”

A quirky grin twisted the gentleman’s lips. “I do indeed know what you mean, Miss…?”

Having embarked on her course, Georgiana dispensed with caution, “Hartley. Georgiana Hartley. I’m staying with Lady Winsmere. I seem to have lost her in the crush.”

“Ah, the lovely Bella. I think I saw her over by the door, in earnest conversation with Lady Duckworth. Permit me to escort you to her.”

With only a single blink, Georgiana laid her gloved hand on the proffered sleeve. If she was going to be escorted by any gentleman tonight, she was quite content that it should be this one. He hadn’t told her his name, but he seemed thoroughly at home.

“From your comment, you seem almost to laugh at the purpose of this great institution. Yet surely you propose to avail yourself of its services?”

This was the sort of conversation Georgiana had cut her social eye-teeth on. “I most certainly intend to avail myself of its services, but not, I think, as you might assume.”

Her companion digested this riposte, before countering, “If that means you are not here to snare a title, or a fortune, what possible other use for this place can you have found?”

“Why, that to which I was putting it when you met me.”

A pause developed, followed by a great sigh. “Very well. I confess myself stumped. What is it you’ve discovered within these faded grey walls?”

Georgiana smiled, eyes dancing. “Why, enjoyment, of course. I was enjoying myself.” To her surprise, she realised this was true. She turned to glance into her companion’s grey eyes. In them, she saw thunderstruck amazement.

“ Enjoyment? In Almack’s?”

Georgiana laughed. “Of course. I’m enjoying myself now. Aren’t you?”

Her gentleman stopped stock-still, a ludicrous mixture of horror and humour in his face. “Dreadful! I’ll never live this down.” Then his face cleared and he smiled, quite genuinely, at Georgiana. “Come, Miss Hartley. Let me restore you to Lady Winsmere. You’re clearly too potent a force to be let loose for long.”

Perfectly content, Georgiana strolled by his side through the crowd, who, she now noticed, seemed to part before them. Even before she caught sight of Bella’s surprised face, she had started to question the identity of her escort. But she was determined not to worry. And, thankfully, whoever he was, her escort seemed to find nothing amiss.

Bella curtsied and chatted animatedly, but Georgiana still heard no name. With a final, sotto voce, “Enjoying oneself in Almack’s. Whatever next?” the very correct gentleman withdrew.

Georgiana turned to Bella, but, before she could utter her question, Bella was exclaiming, albeit in delighted whispers, “Georgie! However did you do it?”

“Do what? Who is he?” Instinctively, Georgiana whispered too.

“Who? But…don’t you know?” Bella stared in disbelief, first at her, then at the elegant retreating back.

“No. No one introduced us. I bumped into him and apologised.”

Bella fanned herself frantically. “Heavens! He might have cut you!”

“Cut…? But who on earth is he?”

“Brummel! George Brummel. He’s one of society’s most powerful arbiters of taste.” Bella turned to survey Georgiana appraisingly. “Well! Obviously he’s taken to you. What a relief! I didn’t know what to think when I saw you with him. He can be quite diabolical, you know.”

Georgiana, conscious now of the envious eyes upon her, smiled confidently. “You needn’t have worried. We were just enjoying ourselves.”