Chapter Forty-three
Despite the fact that this was to be no more than a family gathering, Georgina discovered that such events were still quite formal affairs here when Regina produced a sparkling evening gown for her to wear. The rich brown material shimmered so, it looked like polished bronze, and with the bodice overlaid with sequined tulle, Georgina really did sparkle in the lovely creation. At any rate, she was delighted with it. Having been condemned to pastels for so long, she was eager for the darker, matronly colors it was now acceptable for her to wear. In fact, she had chosen nothing but bold, vibrant colors for the wardrobe she had ordered earlier.
Coming downstairs later, they met the men of the household in the parlor, finding they had done themselves up just as grandly. Anthony was unfashionably all in black, except for the pristine whiteness of his carelessly tied cravat. James was sporting a satin coat for the occasion, but in an emerald-green so dark it could not in any way be called dandyish. And what that color did for his eyes! They appeared like jewels with fire captured at their center, lighting them to a more vivid, brilliant green that fairly glowed. And Jeremy, that scamp, was a dandy personified in a glaringly cardinal-red coat, with godawful chartreuse knee-breeches, a combination that, Regina told Georgina in a side whisper, was being worn just to annoy his father.
Conrad Sharpe was also present, not surprising since James and Jeremy both considered him family. Georgina had never seen him done up formally before, though, even to the point of having shaved off his sea beard. But likewise, this was the first time he was seeing her in anything other than her boy’s togs, and it was too much to hope that he might overlook that fact.
“Well, Good God, George, you haven’t misplaced your breeches, have you?”
“Very funny,” she mumbled.
While Connie and Anthony chuckled, and James just stared at her deeply scooped decolletage, Regina remarked, “For shame, Connie. That’s not the way you compliment a lady.”
“So you’ve already championed her, little squirt?” he said, drawing her close for a hug. “Well, sheathe your claws. George here don’t need flattery any more than you do, or protection, for that matter. Besides, it ain’t safe to compliment her when her husband’s around.”
James ignored that bit of foolery to tell his niece, “Since I know that must be one of your ensembles, sweet, I have to say you’re wearing your bodices too low these days.”
“Nicholas doesn’t mind.” The girl grinned.
“That wastrel wouldn’t.”
“Oh, famous. He’s not even here yet, and you’re already starting on him,” and she moved off in a huff to greet Jeremy.
But when James’s eyes came back to Georgina, particularly to her bodice, she was so reminded of a similar scene that she said, “If my brothers were here they would make some ridiculous remark right about now, like I ought to change into something less revealing. You wouldn’t by any chance be thinking the same thing?”
“And agree with them? God forbid!”
With a teasing grin, Connie said to Anthony, “D’you get the feeling he don’t like her brothers?”
“I can’t imagine why,” Anthony replied, straight-faced. “After what you told me about ’em, they sound like such enterprising chaps.”
“Tony…” James warned, but Anthony had held his laughter in too long.
“Locked in a cellar!” he hooted. “By God, I wish I could’ve seen it, indeed I do.”
If James hadn’t heard enough, Georgina had. “My brothers, the lot of them, happen to be as big or bigger than yourself, Sir Anthony. You wouldn’t have fared any better against them, I assure you,” she said and then marched off to join Regina across the room.
Anthony, if not put in his place, was at least surprised. “Well, damn me, I do believe the chit just defended you, James.”
James merely smiled, but Roslynn, who’d listened to her husband with growing exasperation, said, “If you don’t stop ribbing him in front of her, she’s liable to do more than that. And if she doesn’t, I might,” and the last lady deserted them.
Connie chuckled at Anthony’s changed expression, which was chagrined now. He nudged James to have a look. “If he’s not careful, he might be sleeping with the dogs again.”
“You may be right, old man,” James replied. “So let’s not discourage him.”
Connie shrugged. “If you can bear it, it’s no skin off my back.”
“I can bloody well put up with anything for the desired results.”
“I suppose you can, even getting locked in cellars.”
“I heard that!” Anthony interjected. “So I had the right of it. Therewasmotive to your madness—”
“Oh, shut up, Tony.”
It wasn’t much longer before the elders arrived, as James and Anthony liked to refer to their older brothers. Jason Malory, the third marquis of Haverston and head of the family, was a surprise to Georgina. She’d been told he was forty-six, and indeed, he merely looked a slightly older version of James. But right there the similarities ended. While James had his droll charm, his abnormal sense of humor, and his devilishly sensual smiles, Jason was sobriety itself. And she had thought her brother Clinton was too serious-minded. Jason put him to shame, and worse, she’d been told all that grimness came with a hot temper that was more often than not directed at his younger brothers. Of course, she’d also been told, and had no reason to doubt it if James and Anthony were any indication, that the Malory brothers were happiest when they were arguing among themselves.
Edward Malory, now, was unlike any of the other three. A year younger than Jason, he was stockier than Jason and James, though he had the same blond hair and green eyes. Nothing seemed to be able to mar his joviality. He could banter with the rest of them, but good-humoredly. In fact, like her brother Thomas, he seemed totally lacking in temper.
