Sutton cut a fine figure in his corbeau-colored dress coat, white marcella waistcoat, evening breeches of black Florentine silk. There was something of the barbarian about him. She wondered if he was a reprobate. "You are not impressed with your surroundings," Georgie guessed.
Carlisle snorted. "No more than you, Lady Georgiana. I have observed you fiddling with your gloves. Shall we rebel against convention, you and I? You take off your mittens and I'll untie this damned cravat."
He looked as though he might well do so. Georgie laughed aloud, earning a startled glance from Sarah-Louise, who did indeed consider Mr. Sutton with horror, due less to anything he had done than because her aunt had started dropping very particular hints.
"Much better," said Carlisle. "You have a very nice laugh. I believe I would like to hear it again. Shall I tell you the strange tale of the Nabob of Oudh? Or describe the feat of fire-walking for the gods? You would not like to hear about Calcutta. It is a pestilential town with few decent roads."
Somewhat to her surprise, Georgie found that she was enjoying herself. Furthermore she definitely didn't wish to kiss Mr. Sutton, reprobate or not, which relieved her no little bit. "I think you could make any story amusing, did you wish to, sir," she said.
"Do you?" Carlisle, too, was enjoying himself, or as much as was possible for him to enjoy himself in this wretched country and this absurd Grove with its gawky trees and zigzag alleys and unskilled musicians performing in a wooden box. "Let us put it to the test. I will tell you about the cent-per-cent rascals of Leadenhall Street." He proceeded to do so, with such ironic vituperation that Georgie laughed again. "You seem to enjoy your life in India," she said.
"Queer in me, isn't it?" Carlisle winced as the soprano strove for a particularly ambitious note. "I only returned to this benighted country to settle my uncle's affairs."
Georgie experienced not so much as a shiver of foreboding as a result of this remark. "Your uncle is deceased? I am sorry for your loss."
It was a different female who would be made to feel sorry. "There is no need," Carlisle replied. "My uncle died as he might have wished. He was quite old, and apparently in his dotage. There is some irregularity about his affairs."
Perhaps a little prickling of gooseflesh did visit Georgie then. "Oh?" she said.
Only a few days in this wretched country and already Carlisle was become mealy-mouthed. "To give you the word with no bark on it, the old fool married an actress."
Now apprehension did smite Georgie, with the force of a lightning bolt. "An actress," she echoed.
Well might Lady Georgiana look shocked. "Moreover, the little baggage has made off with something she should not," Carlisle continued. "Which I mean to get back if I have to track her to the ends of the earth."
Here was a faint ray of hope. "You do not know where she is?"
Hope, alas, was quickly dashed. "I know that she is in Brighton," Carlisle replied. "I assure you, Lady Georgiana, that I will find her out."
Unfortunately, Georgie could not doubt him. "Is it possible, Mr. Sutton," she ventured, "that this may all be some terrible mistake?"
"No mistake," Carlisle replied grimly. "I'm going to wring her avaricious little neck." He regarded Georgie. "You are not much like your cousin," he remarked.
Despite the abrupt shift in conversation, Georgie had not the least doubt of which cousin Mr. Sutton spoke. "You knew Catherine?"
Now it was Carlisle who was startled. " Knew her?" he repeated. "Past tense?"
How well had Mr. Sutton known Catherine, and when? Just because Georgie did not wish to kiss him didn't mean that another woman might feel the same, and Catherine had been a dreadful flirt. "You have not heard the gossip, then?"
Carlisle frowned. "I have little time for gossip. Has something happened to your cousin, pray?"
Perhaps Georgie could help to solve Lord Warwick's mystery. Perhaps as a reward he
Carlisle snorted. "No more than you, Lady Georgiana. I have observed you fiddling with your gloves. Shall we rebel against convention, you and I? You take off your mittens and I'll untie this damned cravat."
He looked as though he might well do so. Georgie laughed aloud, earning a startled glance from Sarah-Louise, who did indeed consider Mr. Sutton with horror, due less to anything he had done than because her aunt had started dropping very particular hints.
"Much better," said Carlisle. "You have a very nice laugh. I believe I would like to hear it again. Shall I tell you the strange tale of the Nabob of Oudh? Or describe the feat of fire-walking for the gods? You would not like to hear about Calcutta. It is a pestilential town with few decent roads."
Somewhat to her surprise, Georgie found that she was enjoying herself. Furthermore she definitely didn't wish to kiss Mr. Sutton, reprobate or not, which relieved her no little bit. "I think you could make any story amusing, did you wish to, sir," she said.
"Do you?" Carlisle, too, was enjoying himself, or as much as was possible for him to enjoy himself in this wretched country and this absurd Grove with its gawky trees and zigzag alleys and unskilled musicians performing in a wooden box. "Let us put it to the test. I will tell you about the cent-per-cent rascals of Leadenhall Street." He proceeded to do so, with such ironic vituperation that Georgie laughed again. "You seem to enjoy your life in India," she said.
"Queer in me, isn't it?" Carlisle winced as the soprano strove for a particularly ambitious note. "I only returned to this benighted country to settle my uncle's affairs."
Georgie experienced not so much as a shiver of foreboding as a result of this remark. "Your uncle is deceased? I am sorry for your loss."
It was a different female who would be made to feel sorry. "There is no need," Carlisle replied. "My uncle died as he might have wished. He was quite old, and apparently in his dotage. There is some irregularity about his affairs."
Perhaps a little prickling of gooseflesh did visit Georgie then. "Oh?" she said.
Only a few days in this wretched country and already Carlisle was become mealy-mouthed. "To give you the word with no bark on it, the old fool married an actress."
Now apprehension did smite Georgie, with the force of a lightning bolt. "An actress," she echoed.
Well might Lady Georgiana look shocked. "Moreover, the little baggage has made off with something she should not," Carlisle continued. "Which I mean to get back if I have to track her to the ends of the earth."
Here was a faint ray of hope. "You do not know where she is?"
Hope, alas, was quickly dashed. "I know that she is in Brighton," Carlisle replied. "I assure you, Lady Georgiana, that I will find her out."
Unfortunately, Georgie could not doubt him. "Is it possible, Mr. Sutton," she ventured, "that this may all be some terrible mistake?"
"No mistake," Carlisle replied grimly. "I'm going to wring her avaricious little neck." He regarded Georgie. "You are not much like your cousin," he remarked.
Despite the abrupt shift in conversation, Georgie had not the least doubt of which cousin Mr. Sutton spoke. "You knew Catherine?"
Now it was Carlisle who was startled. " Knew her?" he repeated. "Past tense?"
How well had Mr. Sutton known Catherine, and when? Just because Georgie did not wish to kiss him didn't mean that another woman might feel the same, and Catherine had been a dreadful flirt. "You have not heard the gossip, then?"
Carlisle frowned. "I have little time for gossip. Has something happened to your cousin, pray?"
Perhaps Georgie could help to solve Lord Warwick's mystery. Perhaps as a reward he
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