Chapter 8
Georgie was not encouraged by the fact that her mother did not come to see her all night. It as a favorite tactic of her mother’s, delaying the confrontation in order to strain one’s nerves. Capitulation came much more easily that way.
She dressed carefully for breakfast, even resorting to a little rabbit’s foot to hide the ravages of a sleepless night. But it didn’t give her any confidence when she arrived at the breakfast table to find only her parents before her.
“Good morning, my dear,” her mother said, not looking up from the ubiquitous correspondence at her plate.
“Mother. Father.”
“I like him,” her father said with a definitive nod.
He didn’t say another word. Just got to his feet, gave both Georgie and her mother a kiss on the cheek, and walked out.
“Eleven o’clock,” her mother said at his leaving.
His only response was a wave of his hand that still held a piece of toast.
And then he was gone, and Georgie was left behind to once again envy him that freedom.
What she wouldn’t give to simply walk out the front door without notifying half a dozen people, settling a half dozen more squabbles, answering staff questions, holding tearful toddlers, dragging a reluctant maid or footman along.
Or facing a mother who had a terrible knack for getting what she wanted.
And here was her mother about to tell her that she was to exchange one household’s responsibilities for another, without ever having had time to do something merely for herself.
“I’m afraid you were rude last night, Georgianna.”
Ah, the punishment of disappointment. No matter what, it was familiar. It worked. Georgie felt as if she had worms crawling in her belly.
“I suspect Greyville will say he wasn’t surprised.”
“It still warrants an apology. And one to your father and your aunt.”
Maybe she could go back upstairs and come back down later when the dining table was empty. Of course, the food would also be gone, and if there was one thing Georgie couldn’t miss, it was a meal.
So, she stood to collect her eggs, bacon, and toast from the sideboard. “Of course, Mother.”
“Your young man will be here at eleven to speak to your father.”
More worms, these of dread. “I wish he wouldn’t.”
Her mother waited until Georgie had settled back in her seat. “Is there something we should know that would make him ineligible?”
Georgie almost lied. He was a deserter. He beat his wards. He enjoyed abnormal bed sport that involved whips and cheese.
In the end, though, she couldn’t. He didn’t deserve it. “Not that I am aware of.”
“And you get along with his little wards?”
Georgie sighed. “I do.”
But she didn’t ask if Georgie got along with their guardian. She didn’t ask if Georgie wanted to get along with their guardian. But then, Georgie suspected that wouldn’t have helped. She would have to tell the truth about that as well.
Her mother put down the letter she’d been reading and considered Georgie rather as she had back when Georgie had tried to skip French lessons. “Then what reason could there be to refuse a marquess who is also a war hero his request for your hand?”
“Reason?” Besides the fact that she had dreamed of escaping for years, which her mother would not understand? “I don’t know him.”
Her mother, who knew all about the dispatches that had been pored over, simply raised an eyebrow.
Georgie huffed in frustration. “You know perfectly well that competence at war does not necessarily indicate a good character.”
“Then how did you come to introduce him to your aunt and myself?”
Georgie sighed in frustration. “I have met him a sum total of three times, Mother.”
Her mother’s smile was too knowing. “You seem to have gotten along.”
Again, Georgie was relieved that she didn’t blush. “That is not a compelling enough reason to marry.”
Her mother shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt.”
For a very long moment Georgie and her mother simply considered each other. “Am I to have no say in this?” Georgie finally asked, feeling as if her insides were being hollowed out.
Her mother’s expression never changed. But her mother had decades of practice at that particular skill. “Go see your grandmother,” she said. “The two of you have always sung a similar tune. Besides,” she said with a long-suffering sigh. “She’ll wish you to make the announcement.”
Georgie gave herself away with a smile.
She should have known better.
“After you have accepted the Marquess’s proposal.”
“Must I?”
Getting to her feet, her mother collected her correspondence and gave Georgie one last smile. “Convents are dismal. You wouldn’t like it there.”
And that was it. Georgie was trapped.
It became official two hours later. Grey didn’t see Georgie when he was ushered into the house by the very correct butler or when he was led up to the Earl’s study.
In fact, he saw no one as he waited for the Earl to put in an appearance.
At least Reems knew to bolster Grey’s courage with another snifter of brandy.
“A little early,” the very precise butler allowed with a perfectly straight face. “But it is a portentous day. We on the staff only wish the very best for our Lady Georgie.”
And damn if Grey didn’t suspect he’d just been warned to behave. “I do as well,” he responded, wondering if he could empty and refill his glass before the Earl arrived.
The butler nodded as if dispensing a blessing. “Your home will prosper under her hand.”
And that was that. The butler processed out and Grey waited another twenty minutes, enough time to peruse from his seat the shelves of books behind the desk.
If he wasn't mistaken, there were some very valuable books keeping company there. There were more under glass in the corner away from the light that appeared to be illustrated manuscripts. Grey didn’t have the courage to get up and wander to verify his impression.
But the sight of the collection intrigued him.
He had just taken his first sip of brandy and set the glass on the mahogany desk when the door opened.
“A little early, what?”
Grey fought to urge to jump to his feet. He rose with decorum to face the man he was more and more convinced would be his father by marriage.
“Your butler seemed to think a celebration was in order.”
The Earl positively beamed. “And so it is. Sit, sit. I believe I’ll join you. Not every day a man fires off his oldest girl.”
“She hasn’t accepted yet.”
The Earl bestowed another beaming smile as he poured a healthy portion and settled himself behind the desk, snifter at his fingers. “Her mother is right. She knows her duty.”
Grey sat across from him. “That doesn’t evince enthusiasm, sir.”
“Enthusiasm? Our Georgie? She’s the steadiest creature alive.
In fact, I suspect we’re about to miss her a great deal.
She has helped her mother, you know. And her aunt, I suppose.
We have three families crammed all higgledy-piggledy in one house.
Wonderful for the children. A bit confusing for adults sometimes.
There have been occasions I’ve claimed the wrong brat.
Not Georgie. Frightening command. Knows this house better than I do, and I was born in it.
Oh, and I hear you have young wards. Perfect, perfect.
Nobody better with the little ones. She’ll raise your heirs right, I can guarantee it. ”
Grey listened to the growing store of accolades and realized that it was weighing him down.
Everything the Earl said about his daughter spoke of responsibility.
Good God, the way the man talked she’d been in charge of the children since she’d turned five.
It was no wonder she wasn’t that interested in pursuing it with him.
“What hobbies does she have for herself, sir?”
The earl blinked as if Grey had spoken a foreign language. “Hobbies? Georgie?” He paused, obviously digging for some memory or other. “Not quite sure I know. Suspect she doesn’t have time for frivolity.”
Oh, better and better, Grey thought morosely. No wonder she had the look of a spooked horse when he’d mentioned marriage.
What did he do now, though? How did he mitigate a disaster in the making, when he had no choice but to carry on?
“Talked to Marcus Drake this morning,” the earl was saying.
He opened a case of cheroots and offered Grey one. Grey shook his head. It was one habit he’d managed to avoid during his time in the military.
“Soothes the nerves,” the Earl said with a grin.
“Drake admitted that we needed to get you on the road as quick as can be. Means we won’t have time for banns.
Might get some pushback from Georgie. Insist. She’s a good girl.
She knows how to go about. And obviously you don’t have to worry about leaving your house in her hands. ”
Grey admitted he was surprised. “You know Drake?”
The Earl waved a hand. He seemed to do that a lot. “’Course I do. On the Privy Council, aren’t I? He’s of incalculable aid to the war effort.”
The war that was over. Supposedly. Grey imagined that the need for him to decamp to Paris wouldn’t be so urgent if important people really believed that.
“And you will make certain Georgie and my wards are well-protected while I’m gone?” he asked.
The Earl blinked in surprise. It had obviously not occurred to him that by leaving his house for Grey’s, his daughter could be putting herself in danger. “Girl can take care of herself.”
“Not in this case, sir. Either make sure the protection is there or there will be no vows. And no trip.”
Another wave of the hand. “I’ll notify Drake, although I suspect he’s already ahead of the game.”
Grey did, too. But he wanted the Earl to do more than dismiss his daughter as domestic help.
“Had my solicitor draw up the papers,” the older man said with a clearing of the throat. “You should be happy.”
Gray must have betrayed his surprise. The Earl waved that hand again. “Actually had them for a bit. Just in case, you know. I can’t think they need to be altered. Let me know if they do.”