Chapter 1 #2
“And he just returned from the army to take up his duties here. The inheritance was evidently a surprise.” Shockingly, she grinned.
“Not a pleasant one either, from what I heard. He had evidently been perfectly happy on his horse, tromping about all over Spain. Now he must deal with leaky roofs, sick tenants, and mangel-wurzels. Whatever those are.”
Georgie actually knew. She sincerely doubted Priscilla cared.
“And all without sufficient funds,” Georgie said with a nod.
“Living on River Tick.”
Georgie chuckled. “Priscilla. What would Lady Chase say?”
For the first time, Priscilla chuckled right back. “That language is not up to the standards of Lady Chase’s Academy for Civilized Ladies,” she pronounced in an uncanny replica of the headmistress’s nasal voice.
Georgie laughed right along with her. “But his name?”
“The Marquess of Coleford. Peter Prentice…something. Colonel Peter...er...”
“Greyville?!” Georgie retorted, not only surprised but impressed. And oddly disconcerted.
Priscilla immediately brightened. “Then you do know him. You could talk to him.”
Georgie shook her head. “I know of him. Quite a renowned hero. Mentioned in almost as many dispatches as the great man himself.”
Enough to make an impressionable girl fall madly in love, if she just went by the tales of his heroism and daring-do.
She and Georgie and Eddie had pored over the dispatches as if they were The Monk.
Perhaps she should talk Priscilla into meeting the Colonel.
From what Georgie had heard, Prissy’s heart might be won over with no more than one look at him.
Although Georgie suspected he didn’t look quite so majestic in the country tweeds and muddy boots he’d need for dealing with mangel-wurzels as he had in his flashy Dragoon’s uniform. At least from the reports she’d had.
How odd, she thought to herself, considering the pale beauty before her. When she realized just who the Marquess of Coleford was, Georgie didn’t feel nearly so inclined to push Priscilla into his arms just to get her out of Mrs. Barnes’s sitting room.
“Well?” Priscilla asked, leaning forward. “Can you help me? Us?”
Georgie considered. “Does your Timothy know about this tangle?”
Priscilla lost another hairpin. “How can I tell him? It would break him!”
“I suspect he’ll find out when he sees you walking out of St. George’s on the Marquess’s arm.”
Blast. It seemed she had run out of patience. And Priscilla was watering up again.
It was all Georgie could do to keep from sighing. “You must speak to him, Priscilla. Is he here or at home?”
“Oh, he never leaves Oxfordshire.”
“Then write him a letter.”
Priscilla’s eyes grew large. “Write an unmarried gentleman?”
Georgie got to her feet and stepped to the window to keep from choking the girl. “Priscilla, please do not think I am such a gudgeon I don’t know that you write him faithfully while you are in town.”
The raging blush was all the answer she needed. Blushes were so convenient for ferreting out the truth.
“Tell him. Make it simple and straightforward. No letters blotched from tears.”
“And I shall tell him you will solve the problem?”
Georgie finally allowed herself a sigh and looked out to the back garden. “Tell him I shall try.”
“And the other godmothers?”
“If they have time. That is all I can promise.”
Priscilla got to her feet. “I knew you’d help me.”
Georgie turned, not wanting the girl to be mistaken. “I said I’d try. That is all I will promise.”
Priscilla ran up and gave her a quick, hard hug. “That is the only promise I need. You can do anything.”
Georgie opened her mouth to refute such an absurd claim, but she never did.
She knew it wouldn’t do any good. Priscilla would believe what so many other people did, that Georgie could do anything.
Well, she was tired of doing everything.
One more season, her mother had promised.
One more and she could dispense with the expectations of the ton and choose her own path. Georgie was counting the days.
Lately she’d been thinking of living in one of the little stone cloghan huts out by her cousin’s horse farm in Ireland, with only the wind, ocean, and seabirds for company. It had begun to sound so enticing. In the meantime, she had a problem to solve.
After watching Priscilla skip out, repairing her hair with the recovered pins as she went, Georgie retreated to her own sitting room upstairs to think.
Maybe she should start an investigation agency instead, she thought with a wry smile.
Charge for all those lost bracelets and inconvenient billets-doux she was so good at tracking down.
It took only another ten minutes for the inevitable invasion. She didn’t even bother to turn when she heard the steps in the hallway.
“That was Priscilla Mayhew we just saw leaving out the back, wasn’t it?” her cousin Charlie said as she walked in.
Georgie nodded.
Her cousin Eddie followed on Charlie’s heels. “You are about to do something foolish,” she said, her voice nearly as soft as Priscilla’s. “Aren’t you?”
Georgie sighed and got to her feet to face her cohorts. “I very much fear I am.”
Charlie laughed. “Well, good. We got here just in time.”