‘Mr Challenger?’ Snyder searched the room for the problem.
‘Send someone to my house for fresh linen.’ Fred rubbed his cheek. ‘And find me a razor. Then have them bring the carriage around front.’
‘I love you, Frederick!’
He smiled and blew a kiss towards the cage in the corner. ‘And get that bird some grapes.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
If Frederick had been here to see her, he would have been impressed.
And if she was truly to live independent from him, she must stop thinking that, whenever she had a success. Progress was something that should be made and appreciated for itself, and not measured against the expectations of others.
But an invitation to a musicale at the home of the Dowager Duchess of Leddington was proof that, in the eyes of society, one had arrived.
George meant to use the opportunity for all it was worth. The gown she was wearing cost more than her last three ball gowns combined. The violets that trimmed the sleeves and the deep lace ruffle on the hem were as unusual for evening as they were for late summer, and each one had a real diamond at the centre, lending a sly sparkle to the skirt. They were a perfect match for the amethysts Fred had given her.
And there he was again, interfering with her placid thoughts. She took a deep drink of the champagne she was holding, trying to wash him away.
‘You are so much better than I expected.’ The hostess patted her hand condescendingly. ‘The Challengers, you know.’ She shook her head in disapproval.
‘Thank you, Your Grace.’ George tried to keep the question out of her voice. It was not truly a compliment when someone assumed that your entire family was incorrigible, but was surprised that one of you had proved passable after all.
But she was more than passable. She was perfect. Or trying to be. Truly she was. Her dress was immaculate and the height of fashion without being gaudy or immodest. As she moved about the room, her pace was sedate, her step confident. Her manners excellent. She did not speak overly loud or out of turn. She listened to gossip, but did not spread it. And she did not gaze out of the window when others spoke to her, as if she wished to be somewhere else.
On the occasions when she saw Marietta at a gathering, she spoke with at least the illusion of cordiality and did not allow herself to be goaded into argument. Even if she was out of sorts, she would not be the one to rip her skirt in a closed door and run away with her gown in tatters.
It was not precisely boring. None of the society events she went to had ever been. But neither was it fun. For all the dancing, food, and happy talk, there was a strained indifference about it, as if all around her were holding their spirits in check until they could leave.
And today, so did she. It really was a shame that Frederick was not here to see it. He would be proud of her. Not that she wanted to make him proud. She had but to maintain her dignity and make a favourable impression until it was possible to escape. This invitation would lead to others. And none of them would be issued by people who wished to see the latest scandal from the Challenger family: a bride who had abandoned her husband within weeks of the wedding.
But that did not mean the Dowager was not curious. ‘Where is Mr Challenger tonight, my dear?’
I have no idea.
If she truly meant to moderate her behaviour, she must remember that one did not speak the truth in public. Nor did one put one’s true feelings, sadness, hurt, loss, out on display for the entertainment of theton.
She smiled back at her hostess with bland indifference. ‘Not with me, unfortunately. But he did not want me to miss this gathering, for he knew how much I would enjoy it. And I must admit, there are advantages to marriage that I had not foreseen. When one is husband-hunting it is all chaperones and propriety, living in dread that the slightest infraction could mean ruin. One never comprehends the freedom of going to a party alone and without fear of offending.’
‘But it must be a shame to lose the interest of such a handsome man, so soon in one’s marriage. It is barely two months, since the wedding, is it not?’ The woman did everything but lick the cream from her whiskers.
The answer to her question was yes. It was devastating to suddenly be without a thing she had never known she’d wanted. But she would die before she admitted it. She reinforced her smile so that it stood as an impenetrable bulwark against nosy strangers. ‘One evening is hardly a loss of affection.’ She sighed theatrically. ‘I do miss him when we are apart, of course. But I do not want him to feel constrained by my presence. I have been told that a man cannot be happy living under a woman’s thumb.’ The Dowager’s husband had been notoriously henpecked—her comment raised a slight intake of disapproving breath. Since George had accompanied her words with the most naïve smile possible, the woman could not decide whether to take offence.
‘Of course, my dear. But you must be careful. From what I understand, there are places men go when out of a woman’s sight, that are not at all proper. I have been told there is a club on Jermyn Street and you cannot imagine the things that go on there.’
George could imagine it quite well, since she had seen it for herself. Perhaps, as she sat here, being the sort of wife that even a stickler like Major Challenger could be proud of, he was escorting a masked woman up the stairs to the little bedrooms on the first floor.
She took another sip of her wine and reminded herself that she did not care what he was doing.
Suddenly, a clanking and clattering arose from the music room that could hardly be called a melody. It sounded as if the poor pianoforte was being struck with a mallet. Slowly, the sound coalesced into something resembling a tune, accompanying a vocalist who was as enthusiastic as he was off-key.
The voice was most decidedly male.
O Georgie my dear, I would love you and wed you,
She laughed and replied: Then don’t say I misled you.
Sing fal the diddle-i-do,
