When Georgiana made the introductions, Lord Beauchamp leaned down from his horse's back and extended a hand to Vera. "Charmed, Miss Burton," he said. "We were not introduced at the wedding, though I recall seeing you there."
He held on to Vera's hand rather longer than she seemed to think necessary. She colored. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord," she said, looking up at him.
"I shall look forward to hearing from you," Georgiana said as he replaced his beaver hat on his head and made to ride away. He touched his hat with his riding whip, grinned at her, and rode on.
"Well, what do you think of that?" Georgiana said, looking after him thoughtfully. "Do you think he will keep his promise, Vera?"
"Probably not," her sister replied. "Lord Beauchamp is a notorious women's man, Georgie. Even I know that. Ella Carver calls him a rake, and I would not be at all surprised if she is right. He has a way of looking at one and holding one's hand that is meant to make one think that he finds one more interesting than any woman he has ever met."
"You do not like him?" Georgiana asked in some surprise.
"No, I do not," Vera said firmly. "When a man tries those tactics on me, I know that he is insincere. Do have a care of him, Georgie."
"Why?" her sister asked. "Do you think Ralph will become jealous?"
A close observer would have noticed that she was paying no attention to her sister's reply. There was a deeply thoughtful look on her face.
Ralph was sitting in the reading room at White's Club, perusing the newspapers halfheartedly. He had eaten dinner there after spending the morning in the Upper House, and was feeling guilty about not having gone home. This was the third day since his return home from the country two weeks before that he had stayed away from morning until almost dinnertime. He really had been busy. There was much to learn about his new position as a member of the Lords, and many new and important men with whom to become acquainted. And he had several matters to settle with Parker, his man of business. But he had to admit to himself that perhaps he had been welcoming reasons to stay away from home.
The truth was that the state of his marriage had gone from bad to worse since their return from the country. They seemed always to be surrounded by other people. They were almost never alone. And he still could not bring himself to go to Georgiana at night. He had been unable to carry through his resolve to build a friendship with her. On the two afternoons when he had suggested a drive with her, they had ended up having company. His mother had decided the first time that an airing would do her no harm. Georgiana's sister had arrived at the moment of their departure on the other occasion and had been persuaded to go with them. He had not tried again.
He should be at home now, he knew, with Georgiana. She was living in a new and strange home, and he knew that life with his mother would not be easy for her.
Through the years he had learned that the best way to handle his mother was to humor her, to let her have her way over unimportant matters and to let her think she was having her way over more important ones. He was not in the habit of confronting her. But he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was going to have to do so soon. He could not expect Georgiana to be as docile as he. She did not have the deep-seated affection for his mother that made all her annoying traits bearable to him.
Georgiana was now the Countess of Chartleigh. Middleton House and Chartleigh were her domains. By rights his mother should retire quietly into the background. Most women in her situation would move to their own establishments. There was a dower house at Chartleigh. It would be a simple matter to lease or rent a suitable house in London. But she had made no mention of any such plans and in the meantime succeeded in imposing her will on the running of their lives.
Georgiana was taking the whole matter very well. She had refused to turn his mother out of her apartments, though Ralph had never planned any such upheaval anyway. And she had not said or done anything that suggested to him that she was finding the situation intolerable. Perhaps he had not been home enough to discover her real feelings. But he found the state of affairs impossible. He remembered with some wistfulness the enthusiasm with which his wife had made preparations for the dinner party at Chartleigh. He had begun to feel like a married man with a home and family of his own. He wanted her as the mistress of his home here in London too.
And what was he doing about it? he asked himself glumly. He was staying away from home, busying himself over matters that were really not as important at the moment as was the solving of his personal problems. It would not do. He was not being fair to his wife—or to himself—for that matter. He wanted to spend more time with her. He must do something. And that something was going to have to be confronting his mother. He grimaced at the thought.
"Ah, if it is not the happy groom himself," a voice said from the doorway. "Ralph, my lad you look the picture of marital bliss. I was talking to your wife just half an hour ago."
Ralph put down his newspaper and rose to his feet to shake hands with his cousin.
"How are you, Roger?" he asked. "I didn't know you were in town."
"I cannot imagine why I am," his cousin said. "There really is not much doing here these days. The trouble is, dear boy, that I cannot think of anywhere else where life may be more exciting. Your wife seems to be suffering from the sameennui."
"Georgiana?" Ralph said with a frown. "She said she was bored? Where did you see her?"
"Strolling in the park," Roger Beauchamp said. "She brightened my day, I tell you, Ralph, my boy. The only pretty female I have seen today."
"She was alone?" asked Ralph.
"Oh no," his cousin said. "She had her sister with her. The little countess certainly was blessed with all the beauty in that family, eh?"
"Vera has character," Ralph said.
Roger laughed. "Trust you, my boy, to find some redeeming feature in a poor dab of a female. She has fine eyes, though."
"Yes," Ralph agreed absently.
"Now why would a bridegroom of a month be sitting reading newspapers at his club when he might be with his bride...er, amusing himself?" Roger asked, seating himself on a wing chair and hooking one booted leg carelessly over one of the arms. There were no other occupants of the room.
It was not the sort of question Ralph was adept at answering. He colored and stared uncomfortably at his companion.
"Of course," Lord Beauchamp continued, swinging the suspended leg and viewing the tassel of his boot swaying back and forth, "I’ve never been married, though Mama is beginning to make ominous noises on the topic now that my thirtieth birthday is looming on the horizon. Perhaps such afternoon amusements lose some of their charm when the female is one’s wife. Do they, Ralph, my lad?"
