Georgiana ran a hand over the black crepe material of her new dress that lay on the bed. Having ordered it and had it delivered to her rooms, she now had to wear it. For the past few days, she had searched for her brother, scouring the city for him, checking every possible location, but he was nowhere to be found.
She wiped the tears that would not stop. She had no news of him and little hope left of his still being alive. His body may never be recovered, and she could not mourn him by touching one last time the face that was so dear to her. She closed her eyes and sat heavily on the bed. She had cried often the past few days, and it left her exhausted. In disguise, she had walked the streets unmolested. Eating and sleeping in a boarding house, she had waited. But she could not continue to do so. She could no longer hide from the world dressed as a boy. It was time for her to return to London.
She dressed slowly, familiarizing herself once again with the details of ladies apparel. She leaned heavily against the fireplace with one hand and waited for the pain from her corset to subside. Her injuries were not as healed as she thought. Wincing, she stepped toward the bed and sat a moment, trying to decide if strolling through the park during the hour society frequented it was the best idea she ever had.
A lady of good standing should have someone accompany her. The le bon ton may very well snub her, and she was prepared for this outcome; she only hoped she would not be arrested for murder, for she still had no news of the jewels having been recovered. She had to see Nicholas one last time.
She glanced around the small room. The bare furnishings and stained carpet proclaimed it to be the room of someone of little consequence. The money she had used to pay for it had belonged to Charles. But it was all gone now. She was penniless.
She felt the tears slip back through her defenses, and she wiped them angrily. She stood up, smoothed out her dress, and placed her hat on her head. Tying the ribbon and checking her appearance once more in the mirror, she took her gloves and parasol and left the room.
She glided down the stairs and into the lobby. She walked in the direction of the park, ignoring the glances an unaccompanied young woman received on the street. She felt far more comfortable dressed as a boy than a girl. Once she arrived in the park, she hesitated before crossing the street, listening to the music of a military band. There would be fireworks later as serious celebrations were underway in the city. She did not feel like celebrating, quite the opposite. She wanted only to hide now, to mourn her brother.
Slowly, she stepped forward and raised her eyes, adjusted her posture to better suit the entitled and confident upper classes. The park was filled with those in the mood to celebrate, and this particular part of the park was filled with the gentry still desperate to hang onto the glory of victory.
Ladies strolled along the lawn accompanied by gentlemen still in uniform, not yet willing to give up their finery. A few limped and the more seriously wounded were seated in chairs or on a blanket on the lawn. Picnics were well under way and servants bustled about, pouring champagne. Opening her parasol, Georgiana strolled casually down the path, noticing that the majority of women wore black. Very few were left in color and then only lavender. It was the men in their uniforms who added color to the day, a black armband their sign of mourning.
Georgiana was thankful that she did not attract any attention. She avoided familiar faces, seeking only one in particular. She took careful note of the groupings around her, but she recognized no one, having not spent much time in society. Though she drew some curious gazes, she was for the most part dismissed as unworthy of notice. She made her way to the fountain, strolling with purpose now as she went in search of him. The park was crowded, the mood gay and lively. Flowers bloomed in their beds, and the sun shone brightly over the idyllic scene. Children ran in the grass playing, and a band played a cheerful tune.
“Georgiana?”
Her heart sank. She heard her name spoken and recognized the voice instantly. She fixed an expression of calm friendliness on her face to belie the utter fear raging inside of her. She still preferred to face a battlefield than society.
Caroline wore lavender and was seated on a blanket in the shade of a tree surrounded by the same group she had had with her the last time Georgiana had seen her. On that day, she was a private helping a wounded officer, and today, she was a lady in mourning for her brother. The contrast left her suddenly frozen, and she opened her mouth to speak but had no notion of what to say or how to begin. She had never been one for polite conversation and having no practice of late she was at a loss.
“You are in Brussels,” Caroline said, shocked, allowing Georgiana her silence.
“So it seems,” Georgiana said, looking about.
“But I had understood you to have returned to London.”
“I came to find my brother.”
“Yes, of course,” Caroline said.
Caroline did not introduce Georgiana to the rest of the party, which consisted of three ladies and four gentlemen, who followed the exchange with veiled glances. The deliberate snub was not lost on her.
“You are in mourning,” Caroline continued. “You have found him?”
“No,” Georgiana said, not wanting to speak of her brother.
“I am sorry,” Caroline said. “I am fortunate that my husband has been returned to me.”
“Indeed you are.”
“Who inherits if Charles has indeed died?”
The question was both cruel and rude—the utter lack of regard shocking even her own party—but Caroline did not immediately withdraw it or apologize. Georgiana felt suddenly angry.
“I know not the details.”
“You are to be the poor relation then?” Caroline surmised. “You would have been better off had you remarried. Perhaps you still can? Diana, do you not have an uncle in need of a wife?”
The woman she addressed laughed. “Dear Uncle William. He is far too old and almost completely deaf. No one will have him.”
“There you see,” Caroline smiled. “There is hope yet that you will not have to set yourself to trade. We shall make an introduction.”
“You are too kind, Caroline,” Georgiana smiled. “But you have no need to concern yourself.”
“Ah,” Caroline said, understanding. “You have found yourself a protector.”
Again, her words shocked those around her, and it was now very evident, if it had not been so before, that the two women were engaged in no polite banter but a war, and Caroline seemed to have drawn blood, again.
Georgiana smiled, more at ease now that the conflict was open. “Perhaps. Is Nicholas here?”
The use of his first name was far too familiar and very deliberate. The smile on Caroline’s face wavered. She glanced in the direction of the fountain before she could prevent herself, and Georgiana followed her glance.
“Ah, thank you. I see him now,” she said. “Do enjoy the rest of your day.”
She strolled away from the group and towards the officers gathered at a nearby tent of refreshments. Nicholas was deep in conversation with a man when he noticed her. He stopped in mid-sentence, and the group turned in her direction. Georgiana paused under a tree and waited for him, as he made his excuses. As he walked toward her, he glanced in Caroline’s direction.
“You should not be here,” he said.
“And yet here I am.” She smiled but knew the effort was strained.
Concerned, he lowered his tone. “Is it Charles? Have you news?”
She shook her head.
He remained silent, as she tried to gather her emotions, reaching out a hand to her before lowering it again.
“Come,” he said, guiding her away from the eyes of those watching.
Walking a small distance to the shade of a copse of woods, he paused and turned to her.
“I have looked everywhere in the city I could think of,” he said.
She nodded. “Please, I beg of you not to give up on him.”
He studied her a moment.
“I know you think it hopeless,” she said quickly. “But please Nicholas, if you have any regard left for your friendship with him you can not think him lost.”
“Georgiana perhaps it is time for us to accept that he-”
“No,” she said. “He is not dead.”
He remained silent and she felt suddenly she had made a mistake seeking him out and she searched the crowd. She felt suddenly as if she was in great danger but it was feeling that was not unfamiliar to her anymore. She had felt it often the last few days.
“I returned the jewels,” she said hating herself for still wanting his good opinion.
“Yet they remain stolen.”
“Then Lord Richmond is the thief, not I.”
“And who will believe that, Georgiana?” he said, incredulous.
“You,” she said her eyes on him, but he shook his head.
“You do not comprehend your situation at all do you? They have Price, and he has confessed all. He has named you the mastermind, claiming his love for you influenced him. He even accused you of trying to murder him.”
“I didn’t.”
“You didn’t shoot him?”
“I did,’ she confessed. “Only when he tried to stop me from returning the jewels.”
He laughed, “You have an answer for everything.”
His words were edged with contempt, making her flinch, but she raised her chin in false bravado.
It was true then, she thought. The world was a dark place.
“You are determined to see only the worst in me.”
“There was a time I would have considered you unable to commit the crimes you are accused of, but I learned much of late about you which makes me doubt I know you at all.”
“You know I am a good person.”
“Who is also good at killing. You should not even have been there on that battlefield, Georgiana. You had a choice, but you seek out danger—maybe you even need it. What better way to spend an evening than stealing the jewels from our very host with all in the house? The excitement of risk is it not?”
“No.”
“I believe you didn’t mean anyone to get hurt, but you couldn’t control Price as well as you thought you could. I believe he killed the maid, but you were there, Georgiana. You have manipulated those around you before, lied, stolen, and even killed to get what you want, and still I stand here by your side wanting nothing more than to protect you.”
“You are wrong.”
“Am I?” Nicholas smiled. “Then tell me in the spirit of truth, how did you manage to pay off your husband’s debts?”
Caught unawares at the turn, she remained silent.
“Everybody knew he was drowning in debt but then, suddenly, you came along, and you not only paid off his debts but you even managed to make Ravenstone a lucrative endeavor again.”
She knew her face had grown pale and was unable to stop her own reaction at his words. She shook her head in disbelief. “What has Price told you?” she asked.
“The truth,” Nicholas said. “Something you are unable to recognize, it would seem.”
“What truth?”
“All of it,” he shouted angry now. “That you paid him off to remain silent so you could smuggle goods in from France. That you were a paid spy for Napoleon himself.”
She lowered her eyes, unable to defend herself.
He laughed, “So it is true.”
“No,” she said. “At least not entirely.”
“Which part am I mistaken in?”
“I was no spy.”
“But you did illegally profit.”
She hesitated but then said, “Yes.”
“Dear Lord, Georgiana.”
“I had no choice.”
“That seems to be the theme in your life, does it not?”
“I had to save Ravenstone, but I would never betray my country.”
“No? That is a privilege you reserve only for your husband and lovers?”
She could not speak and felt unable to breathe as if the air lacked oxygen suddenly. She could feel the trap spring shut around her, as she realized exactly how far Price had gone in his revenge. She had been a fool. A greater fool than she could ever have imagined.
“I understand now,” he said, nodding his head. “I didn’t for a long time, but it all makes sense to me now.”
“What does?”
“Warwick.”
She shook her head, wanting to deny his involvement.
“Don’t even try to deny his involvement,” he said angrily. “Your skill with a knife is taught.”
“Price is lying.”
“Is he?” he frowned. “Or are you? It is so hard to tell once you are proven untrustworthy. Admit the truth, Georgiana. You had Warwick kill your husband. He was the man at the ball that night. He is the man you kissed in a crowded room forcing your husband to call him out in a dual, a dual your husband died in.”
He was right, but Edward had died because he was the spy selling secrets to the enemy. He had to die, but Nicholas would never believe any of it. She had never exposed her dead husband for the traitor he was, and now she was implicated in his crime.
Her past was reaching out to her, its tentacles slowly squeezing around her throat to cut off her air, and she felt the panic return. She shook her head but knew any denial on her part would be worthless. She turned to look in the direction they had come from, knowing what she would see. A magistrate accompanied by two men, armed men in uniform, made their way across the park in their direction. A small crowd had gathered on the lawn to watch in curiosity.
“You give me up then?” she asked sadly.
“They cannot hang you; you are, after all, a lady born and, as such, still enjoy the privileges of that station.”
She smiled even as tears ran down her face, and she wiped them with the back of her hand, “You are wrong about me.”
He studied her, and his scrutiny felt like the worst betrayal, her heart breaking. Trying to pull the shreds of her strength together, she laughed. “Lord Richmond will see to it I hang, for he cannot afford to allow me to live for fear of the truth. If you have any regard left for me and wish to help me then find the jewels Nicholas. He has them hidden in a secret compartment of the dresser in the duchess’s room.”
“Enough,” he shouted.
They stood together in silence, the shadows of the trees embracing them.
“I am done with you,” he said finally, his voice hard. “I will do what I can for your family.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
She had to go. She took a step back from him then another, and he reached out to her, but she pulled away from him.
“No,” he said fiercely. “Don’t do this, Georgiana. I can’t help you if you run.”
She hesitated, judging the distance to the street and the closeness of the magistrate and his men. She knew that the decision she made now this very minute was a decision that would change her life forever. There would be no going back.
She scanned the trees to her left, her eyes stopping on a familiar figure seated on a horse. It was Peter sitting under the shadows of distant trees. She smiled, knowing suddenly what she had to do.
“This is goodbye then,” she said, turning back to Nicholas.
“Georgiana, no,” he said and lunged forward to stop her, but she moved further out of his reach, and he stumbled as his wounded leg prevented him from going after her.
“Don’t,” he said fiercely. “You cannot run away from this forever. Sooner or later you must answer for what you did.”
“I always admired that about you,” she smiled. “You are a man of such principle.”
“I know the difference between right and wrong.”
“I’m not so sure you do anymore.”
“Where will you go?”
She smiled, “That would make it far too easy, wouldn’t it?” she said then turned away from him and ran.
Running in a dress was not as easy as in men’s clothes. Her slippers were not made for speed, and she paused to pull them off, turning back to see her pursuers far closer than she expected.
“Halt,” a voice called out to her.
She didn’t. She continued her sprint across the park, barefoot now, running in Peter’s direction, as he galloped toward her. A shot rang out, and she flinched but knew well the accuracy of a musket. She breathed heavily, her arms pumping as she ran, closing the distance between her and Peter.
As the horse neared, Peter pulled up short and held a hand down to her. Georgiana took it without hesitation, and he pulled her up in front of him before urging it on again. They galloped wildly through the park, taking the most direct route back to the road. The horse tore a path through the crowds of well-dressed people who fled in terror as they approached. Finally reaching the road, they disappeared into the city.