Cupid's Dart by Maggie MacKeever Page B

affable Regent was not notorious for the discriminatory quality of his relationships, among which had been included not only Beau Brummell and Lord Alvanley and the Duke of Argyle, "Poodle" Byng and "Golden Ball" Hughes, but also the Duke of Queensbury, who for a time retired to the King's Bench Prison for Debtors; Sir John Lade and his wife Letty, once the mistress of a highwayman known as "Sixteen String Jack"; the Barrymore brothers, Hellgate and Cripplegate and Newgate, and their sister, Billingsgate who, it was said, could be outsworn only by Letty Lade—but it reminded her anew of how great the disparity between them had grown. "The Pavilion is already a house run mad," Georgie remarked. "Domes and pagodas and turrets. Banqueting rooms with twining golden dragons. A China gallery of painted glass. One hears the strangest tales."
    "All of them true, I make no doubt. I have seen the new stables myself. They include coach houses, harness rooms, servants' rooms, stables, and an open gallery. The whole structure is lighted through the glazed compartments of the cupola by which it is surrounded. It is some sixty-five feet high." Why the devil was he talking about stables? Garth didn't give a damn for Prinny's stables. He paused.
    Georgie was thinking of their first meeting, and what Lord Warwick had said. Whenhad he wished to kiss her? He had used the word "still." Had he done so then, would things be very different now? Not that intimates of the Prince Regent were prone to dally with spinsters like herself. Bonnet forgotten in her hand, Georgie looked up at Lord Warwick. Her ribbons dangled in the sand.
    They were very tempting ribbons. Piece of driftwood or straw hat, it was all the same to Lump. He grabbed the bonnet in his strong teeth, and ran.
    The moment was shattered. Georgie sighed, and gazed after her lost bonnet. "I meant what I said, Garth. I am glad to see you resume your place in the world."
    She was so determined to think well of him. Lord Warwick was touched. "As a gentleman of sinister reputation?" he inquired.
    Georgie pushed her windblown hair out of her eyes, and frowned. "You are determined to jest."
    Garth grasped her shoulders, swung her to face him. "It is hardly a jesting matter. I remind you that the gossips have me accused of murder, ma'am."
    Steadily, Georgie met his gaze, or as steadily as she could with her hair blowing in her eyes. "To tell truth, there were several occasions on which I wished to murder Catherine myself."
    Garth was aware of some of those occasions. Reluctantly, he smiled. "As did I. All the same, I did not murder my wife. Nor incarcerate her in some dank dungeon. Nor wall her up in a nunnery. I truly do not know where Catherine may be."
    Georgie was very conscious of the warmth of his lordship's hands through the thin material of her shawl. "Lud!" she said briskly. "I never doubted that."
    Garth was conscious also of Georgie's nearness. He could smell her sweet perfume, see the rapid pulse beat at the base of her throat. He thought that he would very much like to press his lips against that tender spot. He thought also that he was a married man, and one who stood accused of murder, and had much better not.
    Lump, meanwhile, had discovered that even the most enterprising of hounds could hardly play fetch all by himself. Or either hide-and-seek. He couldn't imagine what had gotten into his mistress this morning. Normally she would be chasing over the sand after him, begging him to return to her side. Today, however, she didn't even seem to notice that he'd gone.
    At any rate, she would be glad to have her bonnet back. Lump bounded forward and presented the trophy to his mistress, then sat down, his wagging tail making semicircles in the sand.
    Georgie gingerly picked up the sodden, sandy mess than had once been her straw bonnet. Here was yet another unanticipated expense, because the hat would have to be replaced. "Oh, dear," she said.
    Abruptly, Garth released her and stepped