George quickly washed and changed into a simple gown of striped tobine. She collected Simone from the nursery and escorted her down to the family dining room.
Simone skipped happily along, obviously excited by her invitation to join the adults. She was wearing the coral necklet her father had brought her, and she spent the entire meal showing it off to anyone who would look.
When the meal was over, the ladies excused themselves and left the men to their port. George rose and left with them, wanting to spend the first night cosily with the countess and the dowager. As she exited the room, Gabriel raised one brow. George scrunched up her nose at him.
Provoking man!
She followed the other ladies down the hall to the blue salon, where a roaring fire and wine awaited them. The gentlemen joined them shortly, tonight being really almost a family affair, and George found herself repressing a laugh as Simone gravitated immediately to Gabriel and set about practicing her girlish wiles upon him. He bore it all in good stride, but sagged back into the couch with relief when Miss Nutley came to collect her.
‘Now that the infantry has left us,’ he said, ‘I think it high time you explained exactly what detained you.’
Chapter Sixteen
All the world has deserted Town for country hearth and home…the truly interesting question is for whose hearth and home?
Tête-à-Tête, 14 December 1788
Ivo folded up the collar of his greatcoat and adjusted his muffler. The mist had begun to turn to snow. Flakes melted against his skin, sending icy rivulets down his neck. Bennett swung up into the saddle and brought his mount under control with a firm grip on the reins.
Ivo’s mount danced across the cobbles, iron-shod hooves ringing loudly against the stone. He gripped the saddle with his thighs, flexed his calves, pushing his heels down. His godmother, whom they were escorting, was already safely ensconced within her carriage, dry and eager to be on her way.
They’d be lucky if the roads weren’t impassable.
Resigned to a long, wet day, he signalled to the coachman. With a snap of the reins and a sharp whistle, the coach lumbered forward, its wheels clacking loudly as the coach rolled down the street.
He and Bennett rode just in front of the coach, neither of them talking as they concentrated on controlling their grain-high mounts. Ivo’s horse shied about, prancing, nimbly cross-stepping in its exuberance.
Ivo grimaced behind his collar and stepped up the pace as they reached the edge of the city. Snow flew past him in flurries. It stuck to his coat, melted, and soaked into the exposed leather of his breeches. His toes were already numb.
He’d eagerly accepted an invitation from George’s brother-in-law to join them all for the Christmas holidays. He’d been looking forward to the weeks of close confinement with George, until his godmother and Alençon had dashed his hopes of a quick reunion over breakfast.
They’d been discussing the yearly Glendower house party, explaining who would be there, reminiscing about past events and scandals, when Lady Bev had let slip how delighted she and the dowager countess were with Colonel Staunton. Alençon leapt in with the fact that he and Cardross were convinced they just might make a match of it.
When Ivo had uttered ‘Who?’ in horrified tones, Alençon had replied, ‘George and the colonel, of course,’ causing Ivo to choke on his tea.
It wasn’t bad enough that he had to fight his way past her adoring hordes. That her bulldogs circled and snapped at his heels. Now everyone was scenting bridals, and the groom they’d settled on was someone else.
Two days after George’s arrival, the house had begun to fill. George strolled downstairs on Charles’s arm, trying not to laugh as he regaled her with a detailed description of his most recent foray to Bond Street. Charles simply wasn’t inclined to put as much thought and effort into his wardrobe as seemed to be required.
‘I don’t want to become a damned caper merchant. I just want to buy a coat. Bloody tailors make it out to be a life or death decision. As if it matters if I choose superfine or Bath coating, velvet or damask.’
George lost the battle, mirth bubbling over as they reached the bottom of the stairs. An exhausted-looking Lady Beverly stood in the hall, flanked by two men in dripping greatcoats. Griggs assisted Lady Bev with her cloak, while several footmen stood ready to take the gentlemen’s coats and hats.
The nearest man tossed his hat aside and shrugged out of his coat, revealing Bennett. He smiled widely at George when he spotted her.
The other man had his back to them as he gave the footmen directions for their luggage. Dauntry. She didn’t need to see his face to know it was him. The way he stood. The way he moved. The simple act of handing over his coat. Every motion spoke to her.
Ah, the perfidy of friends and family. George’s throat tightened. Her stomach turned over, pressing against the stiff enclosure of her stays.
The twinkle in the old woman’s eyes was more than enough to tell her everything she needed to know. She’d brought the earl along with designs in mind.
Damn her and her matchmaker’s soul.
Ivo stood rooted to the ground, staring at her.
Her eyes met his. Desire whipped through her, hard and undeniable. Equally impossible.
He was impossible.
‘Lady Bev, come with me at once.’ George dropped Charles’s arm and hurried over to Lady Beverly. ‘You must be chilled to the bone. And the two of you had best change immediately. I’ll have Griggs send up arrack.’
Ivo settled his coat over his shoulders
