A Daring Liaison

He seemed surprised by her frankness. “I should think that would be apparent, Mrs. Huffington. As you have become my sister’s friend, we shall be often in the same company. ‘Twill be more pleasant if I can count you a friend, too.”

Friend? Their brief moment of familiarity had passed, and the time had come to be polite again. “I believe we have established that much, sir.”

He guffawed. “I like the way you speak your mind, Mrs. Huffington. Quite refreshing. Is there anything coy about you?”

“Heavens! I hope not. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit past the blushing maiden stage of my life. And, alas, there is no one left to remind me of my manners.”

He arched one dark eyebrow. “Do not look to me for reminders, Mrs. Huffington. Had I my way, you’d be joining the gentlemen for cigars and brandy. I am far more likely to encourage your frankness than complain of it.”

They entered the terrace doors to the strains of a waltz already in progress. Mr. Hunter swept her into his arms without a “by your leave” and led her into the whirl of soberly dressed gentlemen and gaily gowned women.

“Why, yes, Mr. Hunter. I’d love to dance,” she said with mild reproach.

“The first of many to come.”

Oh, she doubted that. Too much Charles Hunter would have her undone and forgetting both her scruples and Aunt Caroline’s warnings. A moment later the dance ended and Mr. Hunter took her arm to lead her back to his sister.

Their way was blocked by two couples who had stopped to chat.

“… just as brazen as you please,” one woman was saying. “And now it seems she has dug her talons into Charles Hunter, dragging him into the gardens like a common trollop…. ”

Georgiana’s cheeks burned.

“I would think she’d have the decency to remain in the countryside,” the other woman agreed. “Everyone knows what she is.”

“And what is that, Francine?” one of the men asked, his gaze flicking over the woman’s head to meet Georgiana’s eyes.

“Why, a schemer at best. A murderess at worst,” the woman answered. “And if I were to choose between the two—”

The scorching heat was replaced by a sudden icy coldness in the pit of her stomach. She could not mistake the mocking glance of the man who’d asked the question. She looked up at Mr. Hunter, and the expression on his face was terrifying—dark and furious. She started to turn, thinking he would quickly lead her around the group.

His grip tightened on her arm. “Hello, DeRoss. Everly. Ladies,” he said with an inflection that cast doubt on the name.

Georgiana was torn between amusement and humiliation.

“Hunter.” DeRoss, the man who’d asked the question, looked pointedly at Georgiana, pressing the introduction.

Mr. Hunter gave a slight smile, but there was something predatory about it. She suspected there was worse to come and lifted her chin with every bit of pride she could muster.

“Have you met my sister’s dear friend, Georgiana Huffington?” he asked as he placed his hand over hers where it rested on his arm. The move was proprietary and flattering. And false.

Mr. DeRoss and Mr. Everly both gave the barest of bows and Mr. DeRoss spoke for them both. “Charmed, Mrs. Huffington.”

She curtsied as slightly as they’d bowed. “Gentlemen,” she murmured.

But Mr. Hunter was not inclined to stop there. “Miss Wilton-Smythe and Miss Grayson, allow me to present Mrs. Huffington.”

Georgiana nodded and the women did likewise.

“I importuned Mrs. Huffington to allow me to show her the topiary. Quite artistic, were they not, my dear?”

My dear? He really was going a bit far. “Quite, sir. Exceeded only by your knowledge of the subject.”

He laughed. “You are most welcome to whatever random knowledge I possess.” Turning to the others, he said, “Must be getting Mrs. Huffington back to my sister. She will be waiting.”

“Lady Sarah?” one of the women asked.

“I only have the one sister,” he said. He turned Georgiana in Sarah’s direction and led her away. “I’ve found it’s always best to face bullies down,” he said. “Let them know you’re equal to them and that they cannot force you into a corner.”

“But what was the point of mentioning your sister?”

“She has a reputation in the ton, Mrs. Huffington. Whoever Sarah approves publicly will be accepted without question.”

“Ah, so then …”

“Those women will say nothing further against you.”

Lady Sarah aside, she did not think any of them would want to cross Charles Hunter again. “But they will not like it,” she said. “And they will be waiting for me to do something wrong.”

He looked down at her, one eyebrow cocked and a challenge in his words. “Then your task is simple, Mrs. Huffington. Do nothing wrong.”

She shivered as he released her hand. What a pretty pass things had come to when even her professed friends did not think she would be able to keep out of trouble! Worse—that she, herself, doubted it, too.

Chapter Three

Georgiana took long strides, still fuming as she swept out of her bank, her bulging reticule stuffed with two thousand pounds in banknotes tucked tightly under her arm. How could things have gotten so out of hand in just a few months? While she had been languishing in Kent mourning Lady Caroline’s death, every distant relative of Lady Caroline and Gower Huffington had been conspiring against her!

“Madam, could you slow down a bit?” Clara asked, trotting along behind her. “’Twill make no difference if we’re a few minutes late at that fancy French dress shop.”

Georgiana slowed her pace to accommodate her maid’s shorter legs. “Sorry,” she murmured.

Now able to catch her breath, Clara began prattling on about the doings of the household, leaving Georgiana’s mind to return to the problem at hand—how would she find the resources to look into her husbands’ deaths and fight for her rights at the same time?

The worst of it was that Walter and Robert Foxworthy, Aunt Caroline’s second cousins on her mother’s side, had filed for conservatorship over her. Conservatorship? According to her solicitor, Mr. Goodman, they were suing for the right to control her inheritance and her into the bargain! Untenable! How dare they?

They had never bothered to visit even once in the past twenty years or more. Why, she wouldn’t know them if she bumped into them on the street. Furthermore, warning her that the matter could take years to settle, Mr. Goodman had advised her to withdraw a considerable sum of money from the bank before her funds were frozen.

If that were not enough, he informed her that she was being sued by a Mr. York, Gower’s cousin twice removed. She hadn’t even been aware that Gower had a nephew, let alone that he claimed to be the sole heir to Gower’s fortune. Indeed, Mr. York was claiming she had used duress to make Gower change his will in her favor! Why, nothing could be further from the truth. He’d changed his will in her favor even before they’d said their vows.

She had hoped her business in town would be settled today, and instead she had this new set of problems and another chore. Mr. Goodman had given her a packet that contained a copy of Aunt Caroline’s will for her information and a few letters to her old friends. All were now safely tucked in her reticule along with that absurd amount of cash.

Common sense told her she should go back to Kent and await the outcome of the Foxworthy petition and the York suit, but how could she do that? She had to defend herself against these scurrilous charges. Her life and future were hanging in the balance! Any plans of hastening back to the countryside to avoid Mr. Hunter’s attentions were now out of the question. He’d advised her to stay out of trouble and now, through no fault of her own, trouble had found her.

The ladies had arrived at La Meilleure Robe. Georgiana left Clara in the waiting room and joined them in the back fitting room. They brushed her apology for being late aside with kind reassurances.

“These little lulls give us a chance to actually discuss the books our husbands think we are reading,” Sarah said.

“What book do they think you are reading?”