“The lady and I are acquainted,” he said with a slight bow.
Andrew, Georgiana saw, addressed Mrs.Potter and avoided looking at her directly.She tried to step back, but Mrs.Potter’s hand tightened like a clamp on her elbow, holding her in place.The old woman’s small bones, short stature, and kindly manner concealed shrewd intelligence and steely determination.
“You oughtn’t to spread nonsense about ‘heroes,’ you know.Each man does the duty presented to him,” Andrew said.
“Rascal.I read the papers.”The old woman spoke to Georgiana.“His father was so proud.At Waterloo?—”
“Yes, well, many good men died.”Shutters came down behind his black eyes; he closed the door firmly on the subject of war and his father.“Tell me, do you still make the best ginger cookies in Cambridge and knit the worst scarves?”Georgiana saw the corner of his mouth turn up in an echo of his once irresistible smile.That smile fascinated her, as did the thought of Andrew Mallet and ginger cookies.
“Please don’t tell Lady Georgiana tales!”Mrs.Potter leaned closer to Georgiana and dropped her voice.“Once, just once, when his father told me he needed a warm scarf, I foolishly leapt into the breach, knit one, and sent it off to his school.It unraveled in a week.”She turned to Andrew with a laugh.“You never let me forget it.”
His laughter reverberated through Georgiana.She felt it echo against her chest and forgot again to breathe.Their banter made her feel like an outsider, in spite of the withered hand holding her firmly in place.When her heart drummed in her throat, she thought she knew how a frightened rabbit must feel.She didn’t like it.
“I see there is no pretense of not knowing me this time,” she blurted out, as much to stifle her own unease as to join the conversation.She felt her neck warm, but she held her chin high and squared her shoulders to fend off a blow.
Mrs.Potter beamed like a proud mother hen.Georgiana felt a push in her back.The old woman was urging her to continue.
“Lady Georgiana.”Mallet sighed deeply.His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.“No.No pretense.I apologize for my lack of proper manners at Groghan’s and just now.I’m not quite myself.I didn’t expect to see you.”He looked at her as if he reached for something else he wished to say, but it eluded him.Instead, he nodded at Mrs.Potter.“Now, ladies, if you would please excuse me.”
Georgiana put out a hand to stop him.Her heart still beat erratically.She feared his rejection, but she would not let him end the conversation.“If I might have a word?”
He stood, hat in hand, wishing to pass, but he waited for her to continue.His face remained blank.Mrs.Potter’s smile gave her encouragement to go on.
“I have a business matter, actually, that I would like to discuss with you.Perhaps later, at your convenience.If you might call on me.At Helsington Cottage.”
Georgiana knew she was babbling and resented him for causing it.She clamped her jaw shut and willed herself to wait for an answer.
“I am afraid that is impossible,” he replied.“As you have unfortunately been told, I’m not well.I don’t go out often.I wish—I need—to be left in peace.Good day.”
“Good day,” she whispered, watching him pass.
“Andrew!”He stopped at Mrs.Potter’s call.“I can well understand the need for peace after so many years of war, but surely that doesn’t include friends.My grandson, Geoffrey Dunning, for example?”Andrew nodded but looked puzzled about her meaning.
“Geoff dines with me on Sunday evenings.Would you join us Sunday next?”
For a moment Georgiana thought he would decline.
“I know I impose.”Mrs.Potter’s voice quivered with the weakness of age.“A lonely old woman craves good conversation and old friends, and I miss your father’s company.”
The old fraud!As if she couldn’t have her pick of company in this town!
Andrew frowned.He fingered his staff and spoke with resignation.“If you wish, Mrs.Potter.Sunday next.Ma’am, Lady Georgiana.Good day.”With a slight nod, his awkward gait took him away.
“Perfect.”Edwina Potter’s eyes twinkled with glee.No trace of age or quiver marred her voice now.“You will make up the numbers, of course.You can make your offer and bring him around.I have no doubt.Now, explain to me in detail just what it is you want from young Mr.Mallet.”
The force of the old woman’s support carried Georgiana with it.An ally gave her strength.War demanded allies, and Georgiana had no doubt this was war.Her hope that Andrew would willingly help her died the day she visited his house.If he refused to help her, she would coerce him.Warfare it would be.
* * *
Damn,damn, damn.The old woman neatly maneuvered him, and Georgiana threw the shreds of his peace into chaos.
Andrew looked back down the lane.Georgiana’s ancient coachman had hopped forward right enough, but the old man was no help.What maggot ate into her brain to stand there and confront those two dregs of Cambridge alone?She needs a keeper.
He suspected Mrs.Potter, who looked not a day older than when he was a boy, knew he was on his way to a meeting with Geoff Dunning and perhaps even why.Georgiana must have her in thrall.He had no doubt which lady would make up the numbers at Mrs.Potter’s little supper.
Visions of Georgiana followed him everywhere.The line of her neck bent under her bonnet and the curves of her attractive derriere caught his eye as soon as he turned the corner.Lust, always his first reaction to Georgiana, struck him with the force of a battering ram.
He had leered at her so intently that he didn’t see her situation at first.When he realized that two of the University’s more unsavory bastards were assaulting her, rage almost upended him.He’d acted without thinking.He decided she probably wasn’t even grateful.She couldn’t have known Murchison’s awkward threat hit its mark, and it wasn’t her business anyway.
