Page 9 of Georgiana
“Home, Michael.”
Max entered the carriage, closed the door and pondered on the news George had relayed. It bothered him that Sir Reginald Slade was actively gathering information on Georgiana Darcy. This could only mean one thing. When she made her debut, Slade intended to pursue her diligently. He must advise Darcy of Slade’s financial troubles. Once Darcy had all the facts, he’d move heaven and earth to protect his sister.
Max knew that between Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam she was not in any direct danger, however, he’d also maintain a quiet vigilance at social functions. He caught himself smiling. Watching out for Miss Darcy was not a new thing. In fact, quietly observing the beautiful, talented young woman had become second nature. A fact few people were aware.
Chapter Three
“Adborough, this is a surprise.” Darcy stood and welcomed Max into his study.
“I wish it was for only a pleasant interlude, but I have come with information which needs to be dealt with quietly.”
A light frown marred Darcy’s face as he gestured for Max to take a seat near the fire.
“Would you like tea or does this conversation require a more bracing drink?”
“We’ll need brandy for this.”
Darcy walked over to the table which held the port brandy and cut-glass tumblers. He’d just poured them each a glass when the door to the study opened, revealing Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“I am always amazed, Cousin, how you manage to appear whenever I’m pouring my best brandy.” Darcy pulled another glass up from the bottom tray.
“It is a skill which I have honed these many years.” Colonel Fitzwilliam advanced further in the room, a cocky grin on his face. “Adborough. ‘tis good to see you again.”
“You as well, Colonel.” Max accepted the drink from Darcy. “How goes the war? Any news from the front?”
“News comes in spits and spots,” the Colonel said as he lowered himself into one of the wingback chairs. “We’re still waiting to hear the full outcome of Wellington’s battle at Toulouse. If it was as a successful as we believe, this could be the end of the Peninsular war, for which I shall be bloody grateful.”
“Here, here,” Darcy said, raising his glass. “To the end of the war.”
“To the end of the war.”
They all toasted and quiet settled around them, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, the Colonel roused himself.
“Did I interrupt something important, or was this the night to get rip roaring drunk and tell bawdy stories all night long?”
“We didn’t get a chance to start our conversation.” Darcy set his drink down and glanced at Max. “Adborough arrived only a few minutes ago. You, however, only came to drink my port brandy. I am of the mind you hold no affection for me or my wife but covet only my wine cellar,” he teased.
“It is much more than that, Darcy. I also covet your cook.”
“At least your cousin has not absconded with members of your staff to set up his own house.” Max quipped with a laugh.
“Do tell. This sounds much more fun than my war stories.”
“It seems George pilfered a few members of my staff. He claims they are falling for the charms of his wife.”
“Never doubt the charms of a Miss Bennet,” Darcy murmured. “My household has fallen under Elizabeth’s spell and care not for any of my suggestions or worries. Everything revolves around ‘what the missus said’, or wants.”
“I don’t think you mind too much, Darce,” the Colonel said. “If that self-satisfied smile on your face is anything to go by.”
“No, I am happily situated and have no reason to complain.” Darcy settled back in his chair. “There is not one thing I can think of that would mar my happiness.”
Yes, there is one thing.
Max hated that news of Slade would break into their reminiscing and quiet idyll and was glad the Colonel was here. He’d prove himself a great asset after the untimely death of Viscount Stanhope at Pemberley.
“That brings me to the purpose of my visit.” Max set down his drink and braced his hands on his thighs. “George heard rumors of Sir Reginald Slade making inquiries about Miss Darcy.”
“Georgiana?” Both Darcy and the Colonel spoke at the same time.
