ChapterSix
Damn Glenaire.Damn his devious eyes.”
A great bear of a man paced and gesticulated his way across Georgiana’s drawing room.She stood in the doorway for a full moment before he noticed and she came forward to accept his bow.
“Jamie, Major Heyworth!This is a surprise.”The understatement she injected into her voice pleased her.Georgiana knew her brother well enough not to take offense when someone complained about his deviousness—even in colorful language—but wondered what one of his closest friends was doing there.She knew her brother wanted something.“What brings you to my little cottage?”
Jamie raked a hand through his scruffy hair and looked around the opulent drawing room as if to ask, “What cottage?”
“Call me Jamie, please, Lady Georgie,” he said with a boyish grin.“We’re old friends, aren’t we?”He had sketched a bow haphazard enough to say, “We’re among friends,” but correct enough not to offend.
A smile, as warm and genuine as it was practiced, spread over his face and easily melted her reserve.This one would charm her senseless unless she kept her wits about her.If memory served, Jamie Heyworth lived on charm, but he had been a harmless young man for all that.Noticing that he had aged, she wondered if he had matured as well.
“Do sit down, Jamie,” she said and tamped down a grin.She asked after his family and listened to vague replies until Eunice Williams arrived with the tea cart and disappeared with her needlework into her chair in the far corner.
Etiquette neatly outlined behavior for an afternoon call.It gave Georgiana’s brain room for more important matters, like asking why one of her brother’s friends found it necessary to seek out a spinster he hadn’t seen in several years.
“I am surprised you could be pried from London,” she said innocently.“What brings you to Cambridgeshire?”She watched under lowered lashes for any sign of dissemblance.
“Business,” he pronounced.“Business takes me to Newmarket.Stopped by to pay my respects on the way home.”
“I hope your business won.”She couldn’t stop her smile.
He looked mournful.“Ran dead last.”
Georgiana chuckled and earned an appreciative grin.“You always were a good ‘un,” he said with a smile that warmed her insides.“Never one to cut up at a fellow for his fun.”
“Your way home took you nearby, and you decided to visit.”It wasn’t a question; it was a lure.
“Yes, that’s it precisely.”Jamie couldn’t detect a trap when one opened in front of him.“Knew you’d welcome an old friend.Stands to reason.”His face was a player’s mask of innocence.He took a third cake.
“Please say you will stay for dinner.My household is small, but I pride myself that I have the best cook in Cambridgeshire.”She didn’t lie.Her French chef was her great affectation.
Jamie’s eyes danced.“Oh, Lady Georgie, I don’t doubt you set a fine table.These cakes tell a man that there are good eats to be had.”He took another.“Good friends, good food, hospitality!Nothing better in this life,” he sighed.
Perhaps promise of a good meal drew him here and nothing else.Perhaps pigs would fly by Michaelmas.
“How is my brother Richard?”
“Fine, that is—” He stopped, caught in his own words.Calculation worked in his face while he framed an answer.“Haven’t seen ‘im in some time of course.Business.In Newmarket.”She had been right the first time.Richard sent him here.
“Don’t you see Richard when you’re in town?”
“Certainly, certainly.Best friend a man could want, the Marquess.Sets a fine table as well.”The cheeky grin widened.
“A Hayden family weakness, I confess,” she replied dryly.“When did you last dine with Richard?”She pressed her advantage.
“Goodness, Lady Georgie, I’m sure I can’t recall.Weeks ago.It was a fine quail and an excellent fish course.Best thing was the pudding though.Always cakes and sweets with the Marquess.”
He didn’t recall when, but he could describe the meal.He was here at Richard’s bidding; she was sure of that, but she needed information.It might take heavier weaponry to break down his defenses.Georgiana hoped to show off her cellar more than her chef.She carefully selected cognac for before dinner, two dinner wines, and a strong after-dinner port.
The first sortie was successful.He poured a second glass of the cognac before she filled her own glass with sherry.
“When did I see you last, Jamie?It was London, wasn’t it?”She sipped slowly, determined to stay sharp.“You danced your way through the city and rushed back to your regiment in the Peninsula as I recall.”He drank his way, more like it.
“Five years ago, that was.Did I see you then?Didn’t have much to do with balls and things, that is?—”
“Places ladies frequent?You were too busy with the, ah, pursuits of a gentleman about town, I think.”
