Chapter 13
Georgie sat at the pretty dressing table in her room staring into the mirror, not at all seeing the work Minta was doing on her hair. She didn’t even notice that with her sudden promotion to lady’s maid, Minta looked more worried than elated.
For the moment though, she fought hard not to give way to a silly grin. It had been quite a day. Marriage, a surprising congeniality, and then…well, whatever it was Grey had in mind.
She had to admit that if it was anything like what he had already done, she might not make it through dinner. Just the thought of his tongue dipping into that little hollow at the base of her throat took Georgie’s breath all over again.
“There you go, miss,” Minta proclaimed, stepping back.
Georgie blinked. “Minta,” she said, squinting at the sophisticated-looking woman in the mirror who was dressed in a gold silk gown with low squared neckline that betrayed the tops of her breasts. Her breasts that puckered all over again at the memory of Grey’s fingers.
But it was her hair that reflected the biggest change. She usually wore it in a utilitarian fashion, braids wrapped about her head so her hair would be out of the way. But now…
“My heavens, Minta,” she breathed, trying to understand how a simple hairstyle could make her look so different. So non-utilitarian. “Where did you learn to do hair? This is lovely.”
It had been gathered at the top of her head, held up with jeweled pins, only wispy curls framing her face. And if Georgie wasn’t mistaken, constructed so that the removal of a couple of pins would send the whole thing tumbling down her back.
Behind her, Minta blushed and smiled. “Thank you, my lady. I been learning.”
Georgie got to her feet. “You certainly have. I almost don’t recognize that quite sophisticated lady in the mirror.”
“Oh, she’s you, ma’am. You just never let her loose before.”
Georgie chuckled. “I’m not sure I should now.”
Minta giggled. “If this isn’t the time, ma’am, I don’t know when is.”
Georgie turned for the door, feeling surprisingly shy.
Everything was suddenly different. Not just the house, the room with its comfortable chintz upholstery that reminded her of her own sitting room.
Not just the new her. Her new life. She was stepping over a threshold, and she had no idea if she was ready for it.
He had given her security. He had given her possibility, even if it was given right along with more responsibility.
She came very close to succumbing to the urge to gift him in return. What could it hurt, one night? What danger would she face?
But she knew what danger. Her mother had made sure she knew. She simply could not change her decision, no matter what she owed Grey. No matter how she was feeling.
Begin as you mean to go on. And she had to establish her boundaries now, or she never would. And if she didn’t, her marriage would be no better than her childhood, finding herself the person everyone relied on without ever knowing how to ask for something of her own.
Taking in a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped out into her future.
And immediately faced the most dangerous threat to her autonomy.
He was standing at the head of the stairs waiting for her, his uniform changed for a suit of midnight superfine and snowy linen, his neckcloth tied in a simple knot, his hair gleaming in the hall lamps. He was smiling and shaking his head.
“You do clean up well, Lady Coleford,” he said, winging out an elbow for her to join him.
She laid her hand on his arm and lifted her hem for the stairs. “You don’t do so badly yourself, sir.”
“How soon do you think we can make it through dinner?” he whispered, so close to her ear she fought brand new shivers. “I would hate to commit unspeakable acts over the haricot verts.”
Those familiar chills chased down her body. She smacked his hand anyway. “Behave yourself, sir. This might not be your staff, but they shouldn’t have to witness bad behavior.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s bad. I think it’s perfectly acceptable. After all. Your grandmother approves.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “You assume my grandmother is acceptable.”
Heavens, how she delighted in this sparring. No one except the other kings had ever thought to do it with her before, as if she didn’t deserve a bit of fun. Or maybe that she wouldn’t want it.
That thought brought her up sharp. Could that have been her fault? Could she have had so much on her plate that she couldn’t imagine any relief?
He laid his hand over hers. “Well, then, what do you suggest?”
For a moment she just stared at it, still caught in her unhappy question. But this was not the time for it. This was the time for serious discussion, whether she wanted it or not.
She accepted his offer and turned for dinner. “I suggest we get the discussions we must have out of the way.”
“And those would be?”
But she made him wait for Mrs. Wren to guide them to what looked like the morning room where a small table had been set for two, including china, crystal, silver and flowers.
Grey settled her into her place and then took his across from her.
She couldn’t help noticing that the candlelight was particularly kind to him, softening the harsher lines he had earned on the Peninsula and gleaming in his hair.
They were both well-behaved enough to wait until Mr. Wren had served the soup before picking up the conversation. It was better than admitting that they weren’t tasting everything for the tension they both suffered.
“Have we been polite enough?” Grey asked with a sly twinkle. “What do we need to discuss?”
“Well,” she said, setting down her spoon, “everything.”
He cocked his head. “We can’t put it off until after our wedding night?”
“Not if you still intend to decamp day after tomorrow. If you do not wish to come back to a completely alien household, you need to apprise me now.”
He took a moment to consider. “Do you think I will not like your taste in decor? I’ve had no problems with your fashion sense. In fact, I find it elegant, clean and colorful with just a hint of whimsy.”
She found herself battling a smile. “Do you like chintz?”
“I wouldn’t know chintz if it came up and introduced itself.”
“What about the Oriental Salon in the family home?”
She could see him looking back. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I do. Did you decorate that?”
She nodded, unaccountably relieved. “Each of the oldest girls got a salon to decorate for practice. Charlie and I fought over the scarlet wallpaper.”
“Then I believe I may trust you.”
Her soup was getting cold. She didn’t notice. “And you are happy with your staff as is?”
“Exceptionally. Aren’t you?”
“I don’t know. I have only met them in snatches. But if, say for argument’s sake, one of them hurts one of the girls. Deliberately, I mean. Or through neglect.”
He never so much as took a breath. “Then they go. You also have my permission and blessing to hire more staff if you believe we need them.”
She nodded and waited until the soup was exchanged for sole. “You do know that the girls need a governess.”
That brought him up short, fork halfway to his mouth. “Oh, no. Not so soon.”
She nodded again, this time with purpose. “So soon. They are having enough upheaval in their lives. They need some stability. A nursery maid just isn’t enough.”
“What about you?”
“I’m not enough either.”
“Can’t you wait till I get back?”
“I’m afraid not.” Especially since she didn’t know when that would be. She forebore telling him, though. She figured he knew.
For a long few moments, he focused on his meal, and she focused on watching him do so, wishing with all her heart they could have a normal marriage. A more normal marriage. One in which she could rely on him to be available when she needed him.
She almost laughed out loud. Not that husbands she had known had been particularly observant of that behavior.
Even her father, one of the smartest, most decisive politicians in London, could prove himself particularly absent when needed at home, as if all his skills were reserved for other people.
But then, truth to tell, Georgie knew that her mother cherished her unique position in diplomatic circles.
Well. She thought she did. Did she have the courage to ask?
“What else, madame wife?”
His voice snapped her to attention. What else…?
She focused on her fish for a moment as she tried to prioritize. “Do you intend the girls should ride?”
He paused, considered. “Don’t you think they’d enjoy it?” He seemed particularly interested.
She smiled. “You obviously haven’t noticed the condition of the nursery rocking horse. Besides, Sophie needs something to spend her energy on besides climbing.”
His grin was a thing of beauty that did unspeakable things to Georgie’s equanimity. She caught herself rubbing her free hand against her dress, as if that would cure damp palms.
“Well,” he said. “I can ask my sister if we could borrow Wilson from home to work with them. He put me on my first pony.”
She nodded. “He can be trusted to pick the ponies?”
“Oh, good Lord, yes.”
She nodded, trying hard to think of the arrangements they had to think of, but too distracted by the hum that wouldn’t fade in her body. That anticipation that built inexorably.
“What about you?” he asked.
She looked up, startled. “What about me what?”
His smile was conspiratorial. “Do you ride?”
She blinked, struggled to focus on the matter at hand. “Oh. Yes. Yes, I do.”
He took a sip of wine, and she was distracted by the sheen on his lips. “Do you have a horse you’d like to bring over?”
Finally, she was able to look away for a moment. Somehow a lovely piece of lamb had shown up on her plate, along with the haricot verts, which only made her think of unspeakable things.
Horse. Yes. He wanted to know about her horse.
“Lucy,” she said with a nod. “Yes, it would be lovely to have her here.”
He was smiling now. “Lucy?”