A Daring Liaison(32)
Her competition? For what?
“I shall change the colors and trim. Per’aps add a flounce at the ’em on one, or embroider the ’em on another. They will never realize it is the same as this one. Oh, I should like to shut their mouths.”
Georgiana noted the frown on Madame Marie’s face and realized the woman was talking about something specific. “What have they been saying, Madame?”
“Oh, I did not mean... Well, per’aps you should know. Two exceedingly plain women were in for fittings yesterday. One said that Mrs. ’Uffington is a brazen ’ussy. That no man will propose to you, no matter ’ow you bait the ’ook. The other said you are like Circe, casting a spell over unwary men.”
Georgiana felt the heat rising in her cheeks. “I am not casting a spell or a hook, Madame. I am in town on business.”
The woman dimpled. “Of course you are, chèri. They are simply jealous, yes?”
“Yes. I mean...no!”
Madame laughed a full-bodied enjoyment of Georgiana’s confusion. “Ignore them, chèri. Enduring such talk is the fate of every great beauty. And when this gown is finished, you will ’ave the envy of everyone who sees you.”
Georgiana was about to protest when there was a soft knock at the side door to the fitting room.
“Come, François. She is decent.”
Mr. Renquist peeked around the door before entering. He went to a far corner and leaned one shoulder against the wall, but not before Georgiana noted a look of appreciation pass over his usually inscrutable face.
“Not much to tell, yet, Mrs. Huffington. Just a few items of interest.”
She nodded, waiting for what he’d been able to discover.
“Cautious questioning has led me to believe that the incident outside the Theatre Royal the other night was no accident. Mr. Hunter has made an enemy. The gossip in the rookeries has it that he was the target of that attack.”
Georgiana did not know whether to be relieved or worried. If she was not the object of the attack, was someone targeting Charles because of his appearance with her? “Do you know who was behind it or why, sir?”
“I cannot confirm anything, Mrs. Huffington. A theory has been mentioned, but I have been unable to trace the rumor. I would not feel comfortable mentioning a name until I can confirm the information.”
As much as she would like to press for an answer, she had to respect his wishes. In truth, it made little difference which of them had been the object of the attack. The fact remained that Charles was facing danger in her presence. “What next, Mr. Renquist?”
The man straightened and put his little notebook back in his jacket. “I have gone over my notes from our last meeting, Mrs. Huffington, and I think I shall look into the Misters Foxworthy. Because of their ploy to become your conservators, they have a great deal to gain by keeping you unattached, and the most to lose from any possible remarriage.”
That fact had occurred to Georgiana. Any insights she could gain would be an advantage in dealing with the brothers—Walter in particular. But what of the other claims against her? “Have you any news of Mr. York?”
Mr. Renquist shrugged. “I shall send someone to investigate just to be certain, but I do not consider him as a part of this whole mess, Mrs. Huffington. For one thing, he was related to your second husband and, therefore, could have had no interest in your first husband’s death. And secondly, he has not expressed any particular concern over any remarriage. His suit is more of the common variety of a disgruntled relative who had lived in expectation of an inheritance. Perhaps he has borrowed against future funds and now finds himself in a very bad position with his creditors. Whatever the reason, I think we can dismiss him as a killer.”
“Should I make him an offer, sir?”
“That is your decision. How much money would satisfy him, and how badly do you want him disengaged from your life?”
“Very badly,” she confessed.
“On the other hand,” Mr. Renquist continued, “if the rumors are wrong and the shot outside the Theatre Royal was actually meant for you, Mr. York would be the likely suspect. No attacks had been made on you until then—on the settlement of your second husband’s estate. I would advise caution in any event.”
Georgiana sighed. This was all such an impossible muddle.
Chapter Eight
Charles waited on the steps of the Argyle Rooms in Little Argyle Street for any sign of his coach. The evening had turned into a series of frustrations. He’d been delayed at the Home Office, then subjected to a lecture from his eldest brother, Lord Lockwood, on the dangers of becoming involved with Georgiana Huffington, and finally had been summoned to the Argyle Rooms for an early private conversation with Lord Wycliffe. He’d been remiss in not interviewing Lord Carlington after Wycliffe suggested he might want to look into that possible lead.