She nodded. 'Yes, that would be best, for I feel the same.'
Back at Richmond he resumed with Mary the pleasant life they had been leading before their visit to Stillwaters. The following Sunday he mentioned casually that he would be from home on the coming Wednesday night, to attend a gathering at a club of which he had long been a member, and where he would again meet old friends he had not seen since his return.
Having never before moved in London society, Mary was unaware that such men's drinking clubs were a feature of it; so when he was about to mount his horse on the Wednesday afternoon, her kiss was a little cold as she wished him a merry evening.
Having stabled his horse at Amesbury House and spent a pleasant hour with Droopy Ned, Roger took a coach out to Georgina's villa-studio which stood on the rise north of Kensington village. Her new maid, Jane, proved to be a buxom wench with a merry smile and red-gold hair.
An adept at making himself agreeable to servants, when she opened the door to him he said with a laugh, 'M'dear, your hair is the same colour as my money.' Taking a guinea from his breeches pocket, he held it up against her nearest ringlet, then pressed it into her palm and kissed her lightly on her rosy cheek. Blushing with pleasure, she ushered him into her mistress.
Georgina, as ravishing as ever, her black curls tied back with a broad red ribbon and clad only in a silk chamber robe, was reclining on a sofa. Jane had barely left the room before Roger was kneeling beside her, smothering her face with kisses, inhaling the special, delicious scent she used only for their secret meetings, and with eager hands exploring for the thousandth time the hidden glories of her lovely person.
As they had so often done before, when Roger had changed into a chamber robe she kept there for him, they feasted off pate, lobsters, glazed duck garnished with red cherries, and nectarines, washed these good things down with goblets of champagne, teased each other, recalled old times and laughed until they cried. Then, at length, he picked her up and carried her into the next room, where Jane had already turned down for them the black silk sheets of the big bed.
Alternately they made ecstatic love and dozed, embraced, until the morning. At eleven o'clock Georgina rang for Jane, who brought them a freshly opened bottle of champagne and iced melon. After they had breakfasted, Roger reluctantly began to dress. As he tied his cravat before the mirror, he said:
'What would I not give to be able to spend the day and yet another night here, as I have oft done in the past.'
Georgina yawned, then replied with a smile, 'Yes, to be out of the world together for two or three days at a stretch was truly heaven; but, until Mary has become more used to your absenting yourself, we must make do with single nights.'
'That's a sound reason why we should not too long delay our next.'
'I think we should restrain our impatience for ten days at least.'
Turning, he shook his head, 'Nay, sweet. 'Tis already July 15th. Come the end of the month the season will be over. In August London will be as empty as a drum, providing no possible excuse for you to come up from Newmarket. Before the calendar imposes on us eight weeks or more of abstinence, we must indulge ourselves again at least twice.'
'To start with, weekly meetings were more than I intended. Yet, with the desolate weeks at Newmarket to be faced, I've not the strength of will to refuse you. Having but recently returned after so long an absence, Mary should not regard it as unreasonable if you wish to attend the last two meetings of this club you've told her of before everyone leaves town.'
Thus the matter was agreed, and on the evening of Wednesday, the 21st, Roger was again admitted by pretty Jane to his earthly paradise.
During the past week, memories of the previous Wednesday night had been so frequently in his mind that, if possible, he was more eager than ever to have Georgina in his arms, and she received him with equal fervour.
Again they feasted, laughed, loved and drank the night away until, as daylight was showing between the chinks of the curtains, satiated, blissfully happy and without a care in the world, they fell asleep.
It was about an hour later when Roger was roused by Georgina crying out in her sleep. 'O God! No! No! No!'
To wake her from her nightmare, he put a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her. With a start she sat up, covered her face with her hands and sobbed through them in agonised tones, 'No, no! It can't be true! Oh, God, please don't let it be true.'
Roger threw his arm about her shoulders, drew her to him and asked anxiously, 'What is it, my sweet? Please! You'll be all right in a moment. You've only had a horrid dream.'
As she took her hands from her face, he saw that her great eyes were brimming with tears. She shook her head and the tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed:
'It was Charles. He was riding through a wood with half a dozen other mounted men. Suddenly they were fired upon. They had run into an ambush. Charles and his men broke into a gallop. One of them was hit and fell from his horse. The others got away—except for Charles. His horse was shot under him. A score of French soldiers
ran out of the wood. Charles had scrambled to his knees. They seized him and hauled him to his feet. He .. he's been taken prisoner.'
Frowning, Roger strove to comfort her. 'Beloved, it was only a dream. Nothing but a dream. You've been worrying about him too much.'
Swallowing hard, she said hoarsely, 'Yes, a dream; but a true dream. It was in colour. Oh, what will happen to my darling boy?'
Roger knew of old the psychic powers Georgina had inherited from her gipsy mother, so he feared she was right and did not argue with her. Instead he said:
'There are worse things than being captured. At least for a few months, until it can be arranged for him to be exchanged for a French officer of equivalent rank, he'll be in no danger of being killed or wounded. And as an officer he will receive decent treatment.'
'Perhaps. I can only pray that it will be so. But by some accounts the French have become savages. I must find out. I must find out what the future holds for him.'
As she spoke, Georgina scrambled out of bed, went to a bureau, took her crystal from a drawer in it, put it on a small table nearby and, sitting down, riveted her gaze on the globe. For several minutes she was silent, then she murmured:
'I can see him. He looks well, except that there is a bandage round his hand. I see him again. This is much later, and he has grown a beard. I think he is in a castle. But not in a dungeon. There is plenty of light. He is with other officers, but their uniforms do not look like those of Englishmen. Some of them are playing cards. Charles is laughing. How strange that I should have a son old enough to grow a beard.'
As she sat at the table she was still naked. Now that
Roger could believe that Charles would be safe and well cared for, he allowed his mind to dwell on her beauty. She was sitting in profile to him, her dark ringlets falling to her shoulders and hiding her face, except for the corner of an eyebrow, thick, curling black lashes, well-modelled nose and one side of her very full, red-lipped mouth. As she leaned forward, her breasts rested on the edge of the table, an upturned nipple protruded from the semi-circle of brown corona. Below the table, her powerful hips tapered to smoothly-rounded knees then, drawn back beneath them, perfect calves, slim ankles and arched feet.
She had remained silent for several moments. Suddenly she gave a gasp of horror, thrust the table violently from her so that the crystal rolled across the carpet, jerked herself erect, gave a piercing scream and fell in a dead faint on the floor.
Leaping out of bed, Roger seized her shoulders and cradled her head in his arms. Jane came running in, her mouth agape. Together they got Georgina back into bed. Roger sent Jane for brandy, and forced Georgina to swallow a little of the spirit. She began to moan, then opened her eyes and looked desperately about her.