George knocked at his brother Lucius’s residence, and Briggs opened the door with a prim smile. “Good morning, Mr. Clavering. You are early, if you will permit me to say so.”
George entered and handed his hat to the butler, then allowed him to help him off with his cloak. “Morning, Briggs. I assume you are already aware that my brother has sent me an invitation to wait upon him. Otherwise, you would not see me here at this hour.”
The butler bowed, then turned to place the hat on the chair underneath the stairs and hang the coat on the rack there. “Sir Lucius made me aware of your probable arrival.”
“My certain arrival, you mean to say,” George said with a laugh. “If my brother sent the request, you know very well I must come.” He jogged up the stairs and leaned over the handrail to add, “As they are expecting me, I will announce myself.”
Lucius’s wife Selena was allowing her toddler to lean upon a very round belly that looked as though her lying-in were imminent, but which George was told was not for two more months. She smiled at him when he walked in and held out her hand. He bowed over it and reached over to tickle the chin of his nephew.
“Hugh, you are growing into a fine young man.” George picked up the toy his nephew had dropped and handed it to him. Hugh climbed down from the settee where his mother rested, stuck the toy back in his mouth, and peered at George. Although he could say a few words, he was choosing not to at the moment.
“Greet your Uncle George, Hugh,” his mother advised him.
“Like this,” George added, giving a bow to his nephew. “This is how you properly greet someone.”
Hugh continued to stare at him, and Selena smiled and shook her head. “Forgive him. I believe he is cutting some teeth in the back and is not his cheerful self. Lucius has invited you to come, I’ve been told?”
George sat on an available chair and shot his sister-in-law a glance. “Both you and I know that a request from Lucius is nothing less than a summons. I assure you nothing else would have gotten me out of bed this early had Lucius not added, ‘at your earliest convenience’ in that top-lofty way he has.”
Selena laughed. “I am sorry to hear it, but I’m glad to see you. It has been an age. Thankfully, Philippa keeps me abreast of your latest news, or I could almost imagine you had left London, for all we see you.”
Hugh spotted a toy and began to walk toward it faster than his reflexes would allow. George reached out his hands and caught his nephew just before he tripped. “Where’s Lucius?”
Selena looked behind him as the sound of the doorknob to the nursery turned. “Why, here he is just now.” Her face lit up when her husband walked in, which in George’s estimation made his brother a lucky man. Lucius had made a mull of it when he’d begun courting Selena, but she was filled with more grace than her husband deserved, and she’d forgiven him. From what George could see, Lucius never gave her cause to regret it.
Lucius walked over to Hugh and swept him up in his arms, kissing the top of his head. He then came over to his brother with his hand held out. “George, it was good of you to come so promptly.”
Hugh stared at George from the safety of his father’s arms, his fingers in his mouth. He was the spitting image of Lucius, even in the way he looked at a person. For the first time in his life, George was struck with the thought of what it would be like to hold his own son the way Lucius held his—to be the person who had the greatest importance in a child’s life. He dismissed the notion. A man his age was too young to consider setting up a nursery.
Then, to George’s surprise, Hugh leaned from out of his father’s arms, showing his willingness for George to take him.
George held his nephew, bouncing him up and down in his arms, and his eyes were on the child when he finally answered Lucius. “With a request like that, I did not dare refuse. I imagine I can guess the topic of conversation.”
“That will make my task a lot easier,” Lucius replied. “Come with me to the library.”
George kissed the top of his nephew’s head. “I shall not bring you with me, for you would not like it at all. I am sure we are to talk of responsibilities.” He said the word with an exaggerated despondency, causing Selena to laugh. George handed Hugh to his mother, giving Selena another casual bow before he followed his brother out of the room.
“Would you like something to drink?” Lucius asked when they were both in the library and had shut the door behind them.
“No, I had breakfast not long ago.” George took a seat without being invited to do so.
Lucius sat in the seat across from George and folded his hands on his lap. “You said you thought you knew why I called you here. Would you care to hazard a guess?”
George lifted his eyes to the ceiling as if in thought. “Either you have heard some rumor about me, some shocking scandal, and I shall be made to marry a merchant’s daughter whom I have compromised…” George lifted his eyebrows in interrogation, and Lucius shook his head, amused. “Or some of my debts have been inadvertently sent to your house, and you are shocked by the scope of them. I have gone through my quarterly revenue and have ruined you besides.” George paused, again looking at Lucius, who shook his head in weary patience.
George sighed and folded his hands. “Well, that can only lead me to one conclusion. You wish me to attend to the affairs of my estate.”
“Now see, there you have it,” Lucius said. “It is your estate, after all, and something must be done about it. Twinings cannot run itself, and certainly not with that steward I put in place while you were still underage. The man has had no proper surveillance, and I cannot feel sure he is doing what is best for the property. Lud, I feel old.”
Lucius paused, and George did not break the silence. He glanced over at the chimney, where a cheerful fire crackled in the grate, and waited for his brother to continue.
“I need not remind you how fortunate you are that Father left you something in the way of an inheritance. So few men have the advantages you have when they are not direct heirs. But if you are to make something of Twinings, you must soon take it in hand.”
Lucius was giving a rare scold, and George was mighty uncomfortable waiting for him to get to the end of it.
“For the moment, you’re only living off the land. You’re not increasing its capital or investing in it in any way. And you haven’t gone to see the tenants for yourself. You will end up with a very pitiful inheritance to leave to your heir if you don’t begin to manage your estate.”
George remained silent. He wanted to protest, but he knew there was much truth in what Lucius said. Still, why couldn’t he live a few more years in peace without having to take on this responsibility? George’s mood plummeted. He had known this interview would come, but it was not any easier to hear because of it.
Lucius rested his hands on the armrests of his chair and met George’s gaze. “I know you don’t need a scold from your older brother. Trust me when I say I don’t like to give them. I have enough things weighing on my mind in my own life without trying to run yours as well. But I thought I would tip a warning in your ear. I, too, was young once—”
“Ha! There, I must disagree with you, Lucius.” George had meant it for a jest but with his current mood, it was coming out heavy-handed. “I don’t believe you were ever young. You were born already at the head of the family, and Father was merely holding the position for you.”
Amusement pulled at his brother’s lips. “No, halfling. I had my own desires. I wished to play, but there were obligations pressed upon me that I could not avoid. I suppose you are lucky you had no such pressure.” Lucius rubbed his chin and looked at him. “Then again, where there is no pressure to take on responsibility, there is no pressure to grow. I think it would be tempting for you to leave Twinings for another year. But the longer you neglect it, the more difficult it will be to build something worth handing down. You are of age now and may do as you like, of course. But if you don’t despise a word of warning from your older brother…” He let his words trail off.
George stared across the room, his thoughts somber. He rested his chin on his hand. “No, of course not. You know how thankful I am for all you’ve done. But I hope you don’t expect me to run off to my estate now. The Season has only just begun. Surely it can wait until the summer.”
Lucius’s lips tightened. He seemed to be wrestling within himself, but at last he answered. “It can wait until the summer. But perhaps not for much longer. I’ve held the responsibility as long as it was legally mine, and—as I’ve said—I have my doubts about that steward. I’m still getting the reports, although the estate was fully yours as of three months ago.”
George exhaled. “Very well. I give you my word that I will look into it.”
Once he left Lucius’s presence, George pushed the conversation out of his mind. It could wait until after the Season ended. He had more pressing things to take care of, such as making an overdue visit to his tailor and responding to the invitations that had piled up on his desk.
That night, George and his friends arrived at the Blakelys’ for a private ball that promised to be entertaining, as there would be a separate room with tables for playing cards. He wondered vaguely if Lady Alice had been invited. He had enjoyed talking to her enough to know that she would add to the evening’s amusement. George had never before thought about who her friends might be and what connections she might have. He had never paid her the least heed. But in this instance, since Mrs. Drummond-Burrell was present, and she and the Duchess of Carr were friends, he dared hope Lady Alice might be in attendance.
The intimate ballroom was packed with people, and a stream of them flowed past him. Miss Chauncey followed the crowds, her path crossing his. George could not help but glance at Duck to see if he would notice the girl and was unsurprised to see that he did not. When Miss Chauncey walked by, Duck stared right through her until she curtsied in front of him. This made Duck snap to attention and train his gaze on her. His expression changed into one of interest as he bowed.
“Good evening, Miss Chauncey. You look very well tonight.”
She wore a smile that improved her, and at Duck’s words, Miss Chauncey turned pink with pleasure. It further enhanced her appearance. “Good evening, Mr. Duckworth.”
With a tiny nod, she moved on and did not try to further the conversation in hopes that Duck might invite her to dance, which George thought was wise. At least the girl had some brains. He had not talked to Duck about his strange conversation with Lady Alice, and he was reluctant to do so. However, when she left, he could not help but ask, “How do you know Miss Chauncey?”
Duck watched her walk off. “You know of her? Charming gel, isn’t she? We were paired together at the Mayfair’s card party. I was lucky in my choice of partners. She doesn’t talk your ear off, besides being amusing. And she certainly knows how to play cards well. As a matter of fact, we won.”
George nodded. Duck’s focus on Miss Chauncey’s ability at cards was not exactly promising for Lady Alice, who had expressed certainty that he was infatuated. At the same time, George did not detect any strong aversion in Duck toward the girl either. He needed to find out what made Lady Alice think so highly of her. “You’ll have to introduce me to her.”
Duck stepped back to look at George, bumping into Amos, who made a protest and caught his drink before he spilled it on himself. After a quick apology to Amos, Duck returned a surprised gaze to George. “You actually want to be introduced to a young lady? Don’t tell me you’re interested in her.”
George was merely trying to gain knowledge of the terrain and figure out what had made Lady Alice take note, but he might have made a misstep. Duck almost looked jealous. But surely it must be some other emotion, since Duck had never given a second glance to a girl who dressed so simply and made little effort to enhance what was a rather plain—if sweet—face.
“You know very well I’m not interested in anybody. But if she makes for a clever conversational partner, perhaps I might dance with her.”
Duck looked back at Miss Chauncey as if with fresh eyes, considering the idea. “That is very true. Perhaps I should ask her to dance as well. We laughed a great deal when we played cards. It is much better to dance with someone who has conversation than one who has no more than a fine figure.”
George realized his strategical error with chagrin. He was only increasing Duck’s interest in Miss Chauncey by offering competition. He attempted to regain ground. “I never thought I would hear you say that. I was certain you would list a beautiful face and fine figure as the most important attractions for a dancing partner.”
Duck shook his head. “No, fine figures are better appreciated from the sidelines as they dance with others. But for the ones I have to stand with, I would prefer they have two intelligent words to say.”
“Perhaps you are not as much of a flirt as everyone claims you are,” George said, an eyebrow raised. Duck took pride in his ability to charm women.
“That’s just jealousy talking,” Duck said with his usual grin. “Of course I am. But I’ll introduce you to Miss Chauncey before I ask her to dance—as a sign of my good nature.”
He started after Miss Chauncey, who had come to rest on the sidelines not far away. George saw the flash of pleasure on her face at seeing Duck approach before she schooled her features. That hardly surprised George, but what he hadn’t expected was to see Duck reciprocate the look. There was only a slight pause before Duck indicated George at his left. “Please allow me to introduce you to Mr. Clavering. George, this is Miss Chauncey.”
Miss Chauncey pulled her attention from Duck and turned to curtsy, bestowing her smile upon George. Her face was much prettier and more animated when she smiled.
Duck then bowed formally and extended his hand, lifting his head with a smile that George knew he used when he wished to slay hearts. “May I have the pleasure of the next dance?”
To Miss Chauncey’s credit, she answered with subdued pleasure and did not seem particularly slain. Had Lady Alice not put the idea in his mind, he would have been hard-pressed to see her infatuation. Her reticence only caused Duck to double down on his charm, and he began to regale her with a funny story as they moved onto the dance floor. George was then given ample time to berate himself for focusing Duck’s attention on Miss Chauncey after she had passed by rather than distracting him from it.
He turned to face the crowd, and, for the first time, spotted Lady Alice on the other side of the room. She had arrived, then. Lady Alice was watching Duck and Miss Chauncey begin the figures of the dance. She caught his gaze, and her arched brow accompanied a self-satisfied smirk before she turned away.
George was frustrated, but he also knew it was his own fault. He longed to get one the better of Lady Alice—to goad her in some way—but he was not sure it was possible. Could he speak to her when they had never been formally presented? All he knew in that moment was that the urge to spar with her was strong, and he almost risked attempting it no matter the consequences. Fortunately, he thought better of his plan. He would likely be snubbed if he did, for it was one thing to approach her in an unusual circumstance and another to approach her brazenly at a private ball. Instead, he sought out Mrs. Drummond-Burrell.
He bowed before the formidable matron, patroness of Almack’s. And even though this was a private gathering, she still reigned supreme. “Ma’am, would you do me the honor of introducing me to Lady Alice St. Claire?”
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell assessed him, weighing his worth and whether she should accord his request. On one hand, Lady Alice was far above him in station, but on the other hand, she was old enough to fend off improper advances. And to George’s advantage, he knew he was a valuable addition to any party with his polite manners and pleasing address, which was why so many hostesses invited him. In the end, this combination of facts in his favor seemed to win her over.
“Very well, Mr. Clavering. She won’t dance with you; I can assure you of that since she has not done so at all since the Season before last. But if you’ll come with me, I’ll introduce you.”
She brought him over to Lady Alice, who had her back turned while in conversation with a group of two other women. Her dress, the color of champagne, sloped down in the back, revealing the top of her very pretty shoulder blades, where a long curl rested that had been pulled strategically from her chignon.
“Lady Alice,” Mrs. Drummond-Burrell said. When she turned, George had a glimpse of her face, which was difficult to read. “Allow me to introduce you to Mr. George Clavering.”
George bowed. When he lifted his head, the young woman before him had a wary look in her eyes. It was not Lady Alice at her warmest, the one he had seen when they were talking in the alcove. This was Lady Alice of Society. She assessed him, aloof, as though she were above him—as though she doubted his purpose in seeking her out and dreaded being forced into an intimacy she would not like. George wondered if he had imagined their connection at Almack’s the other night—if he had imagined her enjoyment of their conversation had matched his. He almost lost his courage.
“Mr. Clavering, this is Lady Alice St. Claire,” Mrs. Drummond-Burrell went on.
Lady Alice curtsied, her expression still reserved. “A pleasure.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” George said. Mrs. Drummond-Burrell gave him a nod and moved on, her business having been completed.
When she left, George indicated an area with more space in the crowded room, and Lady Alice walked at his side. He was just coming to the realization that he had not thought through what he should say to her when Lady Alice broke the silence in a cold tone.
“Why did you request an introduction?”
“Because I wished to speak with you,” he replied, looking at her with surprise. Then his humor returned, at least in small part. “And one cannot speak to a woman, as you know, if one has not been properly introduced—apart from those extenuating circumstances I told you about.”
“I see.” She looked over the crowd, making no attempts to assist him with the conversation. The onus was to fall on him. George came up blank, apart from the only subject that connected them—the subject that he was not, currently, very confident in.
“I was wondering if you had made any headway in bringing about the match you were so sure of.”
Her eyes took on a more interested, less wary look. “As a matter of fact, I made Miss Chauncey’s closer acquaintance at a morning call two days ago. And I count that as a step in the right direction.”
George nodded as if absorbing this. Then he started suddenly as her meaning penetrated his understanding. “I had thought Miss Chauncey a friend of yours.”
Lady Alice smiled enigmatically. “She is now.”
What would have caused Lady Alice to interest herself in the fate of a woman she scarcely knew? It was one thing for him to intercede on behalf of a friend whose tastes he was acquainted with, but how could helping Miss Chauncey benefit Lady Alice? George would have to puzzle that out at some point. He focused instead on that goading he had hoped to do.
“I hate to inform you of this, but I was able to witness Miss Chauncey and Mr. Duckworth interact this evening. She crossed his path, and he looked right through her. I would not say it is a promising beginning.”
This was a gamble. Right now, she held the stronger hand since Duck was currently dancing with her protegée. It was a weak gambit, and he knew it. He wondered when she would show her trump card.
Instead, Lady Alice sent him a look of tolerance and said, “Of course he did. Men only react on the surface level until they can be made to see what matters.”
George was feeling his way through this conversation in hopes he could gain the upper hand. That would give him great satisfaction. If he could just sow doubt in her mind about why Duck and Miss Chauncey were dancing together, he might be able to mitigate the damage. It was time to bluff.
“Despite his lack of interest, Duck did say something complimentary about Miss Chauncey. He said she was decent at cards and did not trouble him with boring conversation. It won’t be enough for matrimony on his side, but at least he appreciates her as a harmless companion who won’t importune him by falling in love.”
“Yes.” Lady Alice gazed at him shrewdly. “Is that why they are now dancing together? So they might converse?”
Ah. The trump card. Must tread delicately. George took on an air of nonchalance. “As a matter of fact, Duck said something along those lines. If he wished to dance with someone, he preferred conversation over a fine figure.”
This was supposed to be his riposte, but with that, Lady Alice foiled. “I make my point. They are perfectly suited. A pretty face will only ensnare a man’s foot. A pretty conversation will snare his heart.”
George was able to get out one word: “Hardly!” when Lady Alice interrupted him with sudden suspicion.
“Did you speak to Mr. Duckworth about our wager?”
He put his hand on his chest as if affronted. “I would not do such a foolish thing. Nothing would make him turn against the idea more than my bringing it up.”
“But then you would win the wager. You would be acting in your own interests.” Lady Alice had left off her icy tone reserved for Society, and her teasing was back in full force.
George shook his head. “But I would not be playing fairly by the rules. We need to see if—left to their own devices—they will seek each other out and form an attachment.”
Lady Alice smiled for the first time that evening, and he thought how much more charming and approachable she looked when she did. That was one trait she shared with Miss Chauncey. Although when Miss Chauncey smiled, she only looked tolerable. When Lady Alice smiled, she looked…well, that was not a thought worth pursuing.
“So, you play fair,” she said, her eyes sparkling with good humor and speculation.
“I always play fair,” he replied, allowing indignation to color his tone—although he was not in earnest. He had better quit while he was ahead. George looked down at her train and saw that she had left it down. “I see your train is not pinned up, so I shall not ask you to dance. But I have enjoyed these few minutes speaking with you. And I look forward to seeing our match played out.”
“As do I, Mr. Clavering.”
George bowed and left, feeling that he had fared well enough at the end of their conversation. At the same time, he had to own that his hand had not been strong in this round. Next time he would be better prepared and would acquit himself properly. He was already looking forward to it.