Chapter Eleven
Their new horses having been installed that very afternoon along with two eager to please grooms and a middle-aged coachman, all was ready for their visit on the following day to Fitz’s sister.
However, by the morning, Georgiana was suffering from some very unusual nerves, not helped by a bout of morning sickness, and was wondering if this was going to turn out to be a good idea.
She sat at her dressing table while Havers styled her hair for her, brooding on what lay ahead of her that day in silence.
What was Fitz’s sister going to think when he turned up with a young woman she would no doubt consider to be a nobody on his arm?
She was much older than her brother, so might well be protective of him.
For the first time in Georgiana’s life, her humble origins mattered to her.
She couldn’t quite work out why they might have suddenly become so important, though.
Very puzzling. That this feeling might be something to do with Fitz himself did not occur to her.
Yesterday, Fitz had insisted on putting both their names on the calling card they’d sent round to his sister’s house – Captain and Mrs. Carlyon.
Mrs. Carlyon.
That made her sound old and staid and matronly.
She couldn’t quite get used to being referred to in that way, nor of thinking of herself as a married woman.
After all, they were married in name only, weren’t they?
She’d decided before she’d even met Fitz that she would not be sharing a bed with whoever she married.
And he’d complied with that without a murmur of dissent, which had pleased her. Hadn’t it?
Only now…
No. She was being shallow and foolish and what she was feeling for Fitz was just an infatuation because he was being so nice to her and was so handsome and because she liked his sense of humor and he was so handsome and…
No indeed. She’d been caught like that before and look where it had got her.
Acknowledging her feelings for Alexander as having been an infatuation had surprised her at first, but common sense, added to the fact that she could no longer even recall his face, had drummed it in.
She’d been na?ve and easily persuaded by her bodily passions and his insistence that they would soon marry, and she wasn’t about to allow that to happen again.
Even if she was now married. At least, not yet…
Also, there was her own condition. If his sister discovered her secret…their secret…well, that would be more than embarrassing. It would be the ultimate in humiliation. And it was not her humiliation she was afraid of.
It was his.
This also surprised her. Why was it she was worried about what his as yet unknown sister would think of him for marrying an already increasing wife?
For money. Why did it matter? The most annoying thing about all of this was that she could not work out the whys and wherefores of anything, and she was very used to being able to understand her own emotions.
Only not now. Not since that fateful night when she’d given herself to a man she now was certain she hadn’t been in love with.
In lust with, maybe, and carried away by his arousing lovemaking, but not in love.
All she knew was that she would never allow lust to rule her again.
Havers patted a final curl into place and stood back to admire her creation.
Georgiana ignored her.
What was this Marianne going to be like?
Suppose she didn’t like her brother’s new wife?
Suppose she told the rest of his family not to like her.
She was bound to be shocked that her younger brother had married so precipitately.
The whole family would turn their noses up at her because her father had been in trade.
She knew it.
Havers cleared her throat. “Very pretty you look this morning, if you don’t mind me saying so, Miss Georgiana.”
Georgiana returned to earth and peered at her reflection. “Oh. Oh yes. Thank you, Havers. Perfect.” But she wasn’t really seeing anything when she looked into that mirror as her thoughts were still far away.
With difficulty she returned from her inner turmoil and focused on her own reflection.
It would be a good idea to be looking her best to meet a lady from high society, from the haut ton itself.
Possibly a suit of armor might have been more use than an elegant pale blue muslin gown.
She straightened her spine and drew herself up as tall as she could, which wasn’t much.
She was a Frampton, and she could face any foe she might find before her.
She would meet Marianne, Lady Fortescue, like the warrior she was.
She rose to her feet and with a determined smile for Havers, headed for the bedroom door.
She might feel like Marie-Antoinette riding a tumbril to the guillotine, but she would do so with pride.
Lady Fortescue’s butler opened the door to them in Cavendish Square without a flicker of expression for either Fitz or Georgiana.
He was a tall thin man with a long nose and heavy bags beneath his eyes, his skin generously pockmarked by previous suffering from smallpox.
Georgiana had to force herself not to stare, which would have been terrible bad manners.
He showed them into her ladyship’s parlor on the first floor, and Georgiana was at last afforded her first sight of Fitz’s sister.
For a woman only seven years his senior, she had about her the air of a much older woman, much as Georgiana had imagined she might look.
Her hair, which had once been as dark as her brother’s, was now liberally streaked with silver and piled up on her head in an elaborate style that must have taken her maid a long time to create.
Even seated, it was obvious she was almost as tall as Fitz but with a heaviness about her body that he lacked.
Facially, however, it would have been hard to detect a family resemblance.
Perhaps she took after a particular side of the family, maybe his mother, while he took after his Cornish father, who must have been an extraordinarily handsome man.
Georgiana swept her best curtsey as the giantess rose to her feet, confirming her estimation of her size. “Fitz,” she said, her voice deep and melodious. “How very unexpected to discover you are at last a married man.”
Was that a hint of sarcasm?
Her gaze travelled to Georgiana and ran up and down her a little as though she were inspecting a horse for soundness and conformation.
Maybe she would want to look at her teeth to check her age.
For a horrible moment Georgiana had the impression the woman could see her condition and hot color rose to her cheeks.
Out of nowhere, Fitz’s hand caught hers, warm and reassuring.
“May I introduce my wife, Georgiana, to you, Marianne. Georgiana, this is my sister, Marianne.”
Georgiana swallowed down her nerves and returned her best gracious smile to Marianne. “Good afternoon, Lady Fortescue.” She had considered saying she was enchanted, but as she was anything but this would surely come over as an obvious lie.
That lady seemed satisfied with what she saw, or at least she showed no signs of disapproval. But probably she’d spent a lifetime learning to hide her emotions so that was nothing to go on. “Please take a seat. Wilkins will bring tea, unless you require something stronger, brother?”
Georgiana glanced at Fitz, but he shook his head. “Tea will suit me well.”
His sister’s arched eyebrow betrayed that tea was not his habitual drink. There was a lot Georgiana had to learn about her husband.
They both sat on a pink upholstered chaise longue, and, to her relief, Fitz kept hold of her hand.
Did he think she needed his support? For once, he was right.
She’d been ostensibly alone now since Papa died, as one could not count Aunt Patience as either a friend, nor even a support, but rather a subversive enemy.
But yes, the warmth of his hand on hers did indeed bestow something she felt she required.
And it made them look more of a couple than they were.
Marianne’s expression showed she had not missed the hand holding.
“Georgiana, what a pretty name,” Marianne said in the tone of one who thought the exact opposite. “What was your family name before your marriage? Merely so I can see if I’m acquainted with your parents, you understand, although your appearance is not at all familiar to me.”
Georgiana swallowed down her nerves. She had to be strong and just a little bit bold.
Not too much or she would be thought excessively forward.
“I was born Georgiana Frampton, and I doubt very much that you were acquainted with either of my parents as both of them are dead.” Oh dear, that came out as more of a challenge than she’d intended.
“Frampton? No, I don’t think I know the name. How unfortunate you are to have lost both parents so young.” The implication was that she’d been careless in doing so.
Thank goodness, though, that Marianne didn’t know Papa.
With Fitz and his sister being the grandchildren of a duke, no doubt Marianne would look down her nose at the granddaughter of a man who’d clawed his way up from nowhere and made his fortune as an East Indies merchant.
Marianne’s face assumed an expression of sympathy.
“In whose house have you been living, might I enquire? That of a relation or a duenna?”
Oh dear, again. She was going to have to admit to Aunt Patience.
Hopefully, with her aunt’s dislike of all things social, Marianne would not know her.
“My mother died shortly after my birth and my father four years ago. Since then I have been a ward of my father’s sister, Miss Patience Frampton.
She does not go out much into society, and I have not had my coming out.
She was of the opinion that I was too young. ”