Ribbons and laces, and sweet pretty faces.
—NURSERY RHYME
Georgiana came down to breakfast wearing a black scowl and a blue flowered dress—his threat had worked. Thank God for young women with healthy appetites. Her footsteps on the wooden floor suggested that beneath the dress she was wearing her boy’s riding boots, but Cal was prepared to accept that in the spirit of compromise.
Having spent up big in the village, Martha served a slap-up breakfast—eggs, ham, fresh-baked sweet rolls, hot chocolate for Georgiana, coffee for Cal. It was something in the way of a last supper, though his niece didn’t know that. She was too busy resenting Cal to notice Martha’s uncharacteristic silence.
He’d made his plans during his niece’s three-day absence. He’d made arrangements with Chiswick and sworn Martha and Hawkins to secrecy.
As they finished off the last of the magnificent breakfast, he heard Hawkins bringing the carriage around. Georgiana looked up. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes, I’m leaving for Bath this morning.”
“Excellent!” She grinned at him then, and though it was a grin of triumph, not to say glee, he glimpsed a trace of the sweetness Chiswick had mentioned.
“Have you finished your breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Then say good-bye to Martha.”
“Oh, my precious girl!” Martha burst into tears and hugged her.
“What’s going on? Why are you upset?” Georgiana hugged her back, glaring at Cal over Martha’s shoulder. “Are you sending Martha away? Because if you are—”
“No, no, my darling girl,” Martha sobbed, smoothing Georgiana’s hair back from her face. “Don’t worry about me, his lordship’s been everything that’s kind and generous. He’s even sent for my sister and her boys to come and live here. It’s just... I’ll miss you.”
“Miss me? But why? If you’re staying here—” She broke off, whirled around and faced Cal with a belligerent expression. “What are you up to? I’m not going anywh—”
“You’re going to Bath with me.” Cal bent and tossed her over his shoulder. “Good-bye, Martha,” he said, quite as if he didn’t have an infuriated niece kicking and wriggling and spitting fury like a wildcat. “I’ll keep you up to date with arrangements. Thank you for your assistance.”
The struggling stopped for a moment. “Martha, did youknowabout this?” The betrayal in her voice was heartbreaking. Cal hardened his heart against it. If he’d simply told her, there would be more drama and argument and no doubt she’d gallop away on her black stallion for another three days or more. He didn’t have that much time to waste.
Martha sobbed, “I’m that sorry, lovie, truly I am, but it’s for the best. I can’t be living in the city, you know that. You’re upset now, but in the long run, you’ll know it was the right thing.”
“Iwon’t! I’ll never forgive you—no, not you, Martha—him!” She pummeled his back with hard little fists. “I know who’s to blame for this, thiskidnapping! He’s evenworsethan my pig of a father!”
Cal strode toward the front door. His ribs were regretting the riding boots now. He should have made her change into the soft little slippers ladies usually wore.
Hawkins waited outside with the carriage door open. “All secure?” Cal asked him.
“Yes, m’lord.”
Cal deposited his niece in the carriage and climbed in after her. Hawkins shut the door after him and climbed swiftly up to take up the reins.
Inside the carriage, Georgiana made a dive for the opposite door. She struggled with the handle for a moment, then turned to glare at Cal.
“It’s locked,” he told her. “There’s no point in fighting. You’re outnumbered.” He rapped on the roof of the carriage and, with a lurch, it moved off.
She stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a long shrill whistle.
He sighed and continued, “If you’ve quite finished deafening me—”
“I’m taking Finn.” She let out another earsplitting whistle.
“No, the dog stays here,” he said, firmly shutting his mind against the memory of his own desolation at having to leave his own dog behind when he was sent off to school. “He’s far too big and ungainly for my aunt’s town house. And he would be miserable shut up in her small backyard.” More to the point, Cal had no intention of traveling in a closed carriage with a damp, muddy, smelly beast the size of a pony.
“So I am to have nobody and nothing of my own, then?” She’d tried for toughness, but there was an underlying pathos to her words.
