Engagement of Convenience. Georgie Lee
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Julia noticed the way his fingers tightened on the stem of his wine glass. ‘Great men are always granted some leeway.’
‘If society shunned him, then who would lead the Navy against France?’ Julia demanded, irritated by Annette’s prattle. ‘Or would you prefer the French on our shores? Perhaps they would be more delightful in the drawing room.’
‘How droll to discuss politics at dinner,’ Annette sniffed. ‘Captain Covington, you must tell me all about your sister’s wedding.’
With a twinge of regret, Julia left the captain to Annette and focused on the dandy beside her. How could she possibly capture his interest? She couldn’t simply announce the size of her inheritance and hope he took the bait. Conversation seemed the key, but since his arrival they’d barely exchanged ten words. Now she had to captivate him with witty repartee? It seemed a Herculean feat, but one she had to accomplish.
‘Simon, do you ride?’ she asked in her most pleasing voice. The young man turned his pointed chin over his starched cravat, staring at her as though she possessed three heads.
‘Of course,’ he sneered.
Julia clamped her hands together in her lap, screwing the smile on her face. ‘I suppose no country ride could compare to the fashionable hour in Rotten Row?’
‘On at least that point you are correct,’ he lisped, returning to his meal.
Her cheeks burned with the strain of holding her smile. For a moment, the game felt like more trouble than it was worth, but the thought of having her own estate urged her on. ‘You must be an excellent horseman.’
Simon’s knife and fork clanked against the plate. ‘I prefer the elegance of a phaeton—surely you’ve heard of them, even here in the country.’
She resisted the urge to empty her plate in his lap, continuing to remain charming as though nothing was amiss. ‘Oh, yes. When I receive my inheritance I plan to purchase one. Perhaps you can help me select the best?’
‘Your inheritance?’ His bored eyes almost sparkled at the mention of money. She leaned towards him, dropping her voice.
‘Yes, I receive it as soon as I’m married. Tell me about your phaeton. I imagine it is one of the finest in London.’
Just as she suspected, flattery worked. Simon puffed up at the opportunity to discuss himself. ‘It’s second only to the prince’s.’
Despite the loss of her appetite, Julia soldiered on. ‘Oh, you know the prince? How wonderful.’
‘He complimented me on my rig.’ Simon’s voice dripped with pride.
‘Please, tell me all about it.’
* * *
What followed was the most boring and tortuous hour of Julia’s life as Simon described, in minute detail, his phaeton. From the corner of her eye she noticed Uncle George and Emily exchanging baffled looks. Even Captain Covington threw her a sideways glance and for a brief moment she felt ashamed of her plan. Only her mother seemed indifferent, slipping bits of food to Charlemagne, who sat on the floor next to her chair.
‘The squabs are far more comfortable than the average phaeton. I had the leather dyed dark green,’ Simon continued and Julia gazed up at him through her lashes, mimicking the way Annette flattered the captain. If only her dress were cut as deeply as Annette’s. However, such a ploy might make her scheme too obvious.
After what felt like an eternity, Emily rose, ending dinner. ‘Shall the ladies retire to the drawing room?’
Julia forced herself not to jump up and run into the adjoining room. Instead she smiled coyly at Simon as she rose. ‘Perhaps we can discuss it more later?’
‘Perhaps.’ He didn’t seem enthusiastic at the prospect.
Massaging her aching cheeks, Julia followed the other women into the drawing room. Taking The Monk out of her dress pocket, she situated herself on the sofa to read, hoping the others would leave her in peace. Her hope was short lived when Emily walked over to the card table near the window and shuffled the deck. ‘Ladies, would you care for a game of piquet?’
‘I’d love to play,’ Annette announced, choosing her place at the table and taking the deck from Emily. ‘I’ll deal.’
Julia buried her nose in her book, pretending not to hear the invitation, even when Emily cleared her throat to gain her attention.
‘Come play, Julia,’ her mother gently ordered.
With a sigh, Julia put down her book and joined the others at the table.
‘We’re always playing in London and the stakes are often very high. Sometimes gentlemen lose a great deal at the tables,’ Annette explained, dealing the cards.
‘Perhaps the men of London are not very sensible, for it takes only a tiny amount of sense to know one should not bet what one cannot afford to lose.’ Julia laid down a card, then chose another.
‘No gentleman worth his salt would dare refuse a wager.’
‘Then there must be many poor fools about the London ballrooms.’
‘Do you consider Captain Covington a fool?’
Julia shrugged, trying to imagine the captain dancing, but she could only picture him gambling in some tropical den of iniquity. She fought back a laugh, struggling to keep her face a bland mask of uninterest. ‘I haven’t known the captain long enough to comment on the merits of his wit—however, if he lives in London, the odds are against him not being a fool.’
‘I assure you, Captain Covington is no fool,’ her mother interjected. ‘He has proven himself a hero on more than one occasion.’
Julia didn’t respond, wondering what her mother would think if she knew about the captain’s involvement with the Governor of Bermuda’s widowed sister. She’d overheard Uncle George telling Paul about it once. It was quite shocking.
‘How long has George known Captain Covington?’ Annette asked.
‘Ten years,’ Mother answered. ‘Captain Covington was a lieutenant on George’s ship in the war against France during the First Coalition. His service was so distinguished he was given command of his own ship. He’s very well travelled, Julia.’
‘Is he now?’ Julia barely heard her. She was too busy concentrating on which card to play next so she could lose and end the game.
‘George tells me Captain Covington is a very sensible man when it comes to money, much like you, Julia,’ her mother remarked, attempting to draw Julia into the conversation.
‘Interesting,’ Julia mumbled, disappointed by her excellent hand for it made losing very difficult.
‘Captain Covington and I spoke a great deal this afternoon and it was as if we’ve known each other for years. We have a great deal in common for we both adore cheese,’ Annette continued.
Julia selected another card and scowled for it was a good one. ‘Most men in London adore food. That’s why there’s so much gout in town.’
Emily coughed disapprovingly.
‘London is a gourmand’s paradise,’ Annette insisted. ‘I advised Captain Covington to hire a French chef. All the best houses have them. He’s a very affable man. I’m surprised he’s not married for he’d do well with a wife.’
‘A man of thirty with a sensible head is a rarity these days,’ Emily said more to Julia than to Annette.
‘He’s very handsome,’ Annette added.
‘Yes, he is, don’t you agree, Julia?’ Mother entreated.
Julia took another card and smiled to find it a bad one before she noticed the three women waiting for her response. ‘Pardon me?’
Emily