Thetonwould be in fits of despair over the loss of their favorite, but for Georgiana, it was a stroke of good luck. Yes, that sinking feeling in her belly wasdefinitelyrelief.
“What more can you tell us about Clara Beauchamp, Your Grace?” Lady Clifford asked. “Where she resided last, to start with, as well as the names of anyone acquainted with her who might know where she’s gone.”
“I mentioned Lady Tilbury already. She’d be the most likely to know where Clara is.” The duchess fidgeted with her skirts, her gaze on her hands. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about her whereabouts.”
“I see.” Lady Clifford went to her desk, withdrew a slip of paper, and dipped her quill. “Is there anything else you think mightprove useful?”
“She didn’t have many friends, I’m afraid. Her father was landed gentry, but not aristocratic, and well…you know how dismissive thetoncan be.” The duchess’sface clouded.
Lady Clifford sat at her desk with her quill poised over her paper. “I do, yes.”
“But as I said, Lady Tilbury may know what’s become of her.” The duchess cast a hesitant glance at Georgiana. “Lady Wylde is hosting a masque ball the day after tomorrow. Lady Tilbury is her neighbor, and will no doubt be there. Perhaps Miss Harley could attend, and see what she can find out fromher ladyship.”
Georgiana’s heart crashed into her slippers at the words “masque ball,” and “Lady Wylde.”
Lady Clifford didn’t bother to write the name down. There was no need. For good or ill, everyone in London knew who Lady Wylde was.
Mostly ill.
Lady Wylde was a voluptuous, red-lipped siren whose wealthy and aged husband, Lord Wylde, had the good grace to expire only three years into their marriage, leaving his lady in possession of a handsome fortune, and her freedom.
She’d made good use of both.
She wasn’t the only merry widow in London, of course, but more than one London drawing room buzzed with whispered accounts of Lady Wylde’s many dramatic liaisons with the young, handsome, and fashionable gentlemen of theton. If the rumors could be believed, her ladyship was also vain, spiteful, and addicted to wagering and ugly gossip. Despite all this she was, predictably, received by everyone in theton. Her masque ball was likelyto be a crush.
“Will you attend the ball, Your Grace?” Lady Clifford asked, setting the quill aside.
The duchess shook her head. “No. The duke doesn’t care for Lady Wylde. Perhaps Miss Harley can attend with Lord and Lady Darlington?”
Georgiana said nothing. Privately she agreed with the duke that Lady Wylde was best avoided, and she suspected Cecilia and Lord Darlington did as well. They didn’t spend much time in company, and likely had no intention of attending Lady Wylde’s masque ball, but they would if Lady Cliffordasked them to.
“Yes, I think we can manage something. How fortunate it’s a masque ball. It’s much better if Miss Harley isn’t recognized.”
Georgiana smothered a snort. It wasn’t likely thetonwould recognize her, either with or without a masque. Still, she’d just as soon preserve her anonymity, and she couldn’t deny a masque ball provided a rare chance to nose about with little risk ofbeing exposed.
She detested balls, but shedidlike to nose about. It was some consolation, at least.
“Very well, then.” The duchess rose to her feet. “You’ll keep me apprised of Miss Harley’s progress?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Lady Clifford rose as well, a reassuring smile on her lips.
But the duchess hesitated, her brow pinched with worry. “You do understand it’s of the utmost importance this matter remains between us, Lady Clifford? I have your promise you won’t breathe a single word of it to Lord Haslemere, or indeed to anyone?”
Lady Clifford exchanged another speaking glance with Georgiana. “I promise you, Your Grace, that this conversation will not leave this room.”
“Very well.” The duchess gave a hesitant nod, then turned to Georgiana. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Harley.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Georgiana curtsied, then dropped onto the settee again as Lady Clifford showed the duchess out. Her head was spinning with conjectures, but so far, she was certain of only one thing.
The duchess hadlied to them.
Or, at the very least, hadn’t told the entire truth. There was a great deal more to this than just a missing friend. Whether that mattered or not remained to be seen, but one thing was certain. If the Duchess of Kenilworth had been anyone else, Lady Clifford would have demanded the entire truth from her before she took this business on.
As it was, however, shewasthe Duchess of Kenilworth, and whatever it was she was up to, it was worth it to them to do just as she bid them. Even if that meant attending a dreadful masque ball at dreadful Lady Wylde’s, of allcursed things.
Georgiana cradled her chin in her hand with a glum sigh. There was, alas, no help for it, even if the very thought of such an entertainment made her shudder, and even though she was the least suited to such a task than any of Lady Clifford’sother students.
“What a strange encounter,” Lady Clifford murmured when she came back into the room. She wandered over to her desk, picked up the paper she’d laid there, and stared at it for a moment. “It’s not much to start with, I’m afraid.”
