Page 48 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“You sound very proud of him, Lady Georgina,” Catherine observed affably. “I dare say your help and support has not been negligible in your husband’s good fortune.”

Lady Georgina smiled and laughed a little, seeming pleased with the compliment. She seemed to relax a little now after the tension of the earlier confrontation. “Every good wife should be able to say the same, shouldn’t she? I do what I can, of course, to support Edwin. I can speak to the wives and sisters of investors, be his eyes and ears at social events, or give him my view on events in the newspapers. But his success is all his own, and I will give him the entire credit.”

“I saw Alfred Lucas last night,” Hugh said. “You’ll be pleased to know that he and his family are thriving now.”

“Who?” Lady Georgina asked with a shrug, the name appearing not to mean anything to her.

“William Fitzroy’s nephew,” Hugh clarified. “After what became of Fitzroy, I thought you might be glad to know that his relatives overcame their terrible adversity.”

“Mr. Fitzroy, of course, I remember him well. It was a tragedy, wasn’t it? But so long ago now, and what could anyone have done? Do you know the story, Catherine?”

“Only the slightest detail,” Catherine replied, inviting her to talk more. “I heard that Mr. Fitzroy committed some terrible crimes, and then ended up committing suicide.”

Lady Georgina nodded in decided agreement. “That’s right,” she confirmed. “William Fitzroy’s unfortunate choices were his own. Edwin had to work very hard to dissociate himself fromhis former business partner’s activities. Luckily, we escaped unscathed.”

“Then you don’t believe that Uncle Edwin had any role whatsoever in taking out the bank loan that led to Fitzroy’s downfall? He negotiated nothing and signed nothing, in his own name or anyone else’s?”

Lady Georgina’s face grew angry for a moment, but then she shook her head and smiled pitifully.

“You should not believe whatever Alfred Lucas told you, Hugh. I have no doubt that Mrs. Fitzroy and her nephew felt about William Fitzroy just as I feel about Edwin. But a man’s business life and private life are entirely separate. A man may be a lamb at home with his family and a lion or a snake when dealing with his business associates.”

“With such separation, would you even know, Lady Georgina, if your husband had been involved in taking out that bank loan?” Catherine pressed carefully.

“I would stake my life on the fact that Edwin had no involvement whatsoever in that affair,” Lady Georgina declared with impressive confidence. “I hope you can both rest assured on that point. We must let the Lucases and Fitzroys get on with their sad lives. Ah, now the performance begins!”

On the stage, the curtain rose while in the box hired by Lord Edwin Vaughan, the Duke and Duchess of Redbridge exchanged a glance.

Lady Georgina clearly believed in her husband’s innocence, but how much was that confidence worth?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“How good of you to honor us with your presence, Your Graces.” Sir Martin Wick, a tall and slim gentleman, bowed while the short and rotund Lady Wick curtseyed beside him. “We did not expect to see you at our humble gathering.”

“Well, you did invite us, and I did reply, if rather late.” Hugh smiled but saw the uncertainty on their hosts’ faces at his small joke.

The Wicks took their entertaining very seriously. Far from being humble, today’s garden party was a beautifully decked and plentifully provisioned affair, filled with the great, the good, and the most respectable members of the ton.

Standing on the terrace beyond the conservatory where Sir Martin and his wife were receiving their guests, Hugh already glimpsed some of the usual watchers and whisperers who always seemed to follow his movements during social events. Perhapsthere were less of them today than there had been at Lady Tarleton’s ball a few weeks earlier.

“We’re delighted to be here,” Catherine cut in before any awkward silence could ensue, touching Lady Wick’s arm and smiling up at Sir Martin. “We decided to attend only one garden party this Season, so it had to be yours, of course.”

Sir Martin Wick had made a fortune in trade thirty years ago and had long since retired to live on his investments’ interest and the knighthood bestowed upon him by the King. No one in the ton now remembered his middle-class roots, or at least they pretended not to when he hosted lavish parties at his London mansion.

“We must also congratulate you on your marriage,” Lady Wick said, encouraged by Catherine’s amiability. “I have rarely seen a couple so well matched.”

Hugh and Catherine looked at one another, he in his usual unfashionable black suit and mask, and she in pale green muslin and delicate pearls. In the sunlight, her hair was a mass of burned gold waves piled loosely atop her head.

Hugh knew that they looked like night and day—or Hades and Persephone.

“We are indeed well matched in all the most important ways.” Hugh nodded, thinking of his wife gasping beneath him only an hour earlier as they chased their release, her blonde hair spread across the pillow and their bodies suddenly peakingsimultaneously. “We will leave you now to greet your other guests, but I would welcome a few minutes of your time later, Sir Martin.”

“Certainly, Your Grace. I will make myself available at your convenience.”

The tall, white-haired man bowed again as Hugh and Catherine prepared to move off.

“Your father is here, Your Grace,” Lady Wick suddenly added, and Hugh saw his wife’s face harden.

“With my sister, Miss Jemima?” Catherine queried and then smiled tightly at their hostess’s confirmation. “Good. I will seek them out.”

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