Chapter Twenty
Georgiana
“Which dress for tonight, Miss Wood?” Jane opened the armoire. She fingered the dresses hanging there, so many different shades.
I’d slept hardly half the night after fencing with Marlow, and the following day had passed in a blur.
Lucas.
I shook my head. I’d heard his Christian name spoken by his family, but to use it myself?
That felt like crossing a line I oughtn’t ever to cross. Not if I wanted to keep control of my heart. He drove me mad, the way he spoke with such intimacy. It was fortunate I’d already learned my lesson about kissing a man, for I had almost fallen for his charms. Again.
I’d had half a mind to march right up to him and return his grandmother’s ring just to see if he’d still look at me the same way. Would he send me away if I gave back what he wanted most?
It did not matter. If anything happened between us, an embrace, a kiss, even if we were seen together amongst the ton again as we had that night at Mrs. Waymont’s, then ugly, harmful words would spread. Lucas—Marlow—hadn’t argued with me about that. He knew the ton as well as I did.
He loved his dukedom. He wanted the best for his future and his father’s legacy. Whatever he wanted from me, it would be fleeting. I could not give him what he truly needed, what the dukedom needed—a worthy, suitable match.
It was better that we continued on with the plan we’d set out. He, with Lady Diana. And me with Lord Reynolds, who would arrive to escort me in a few hours.
Jane turned from the armoire with a questioning look.
I hadn’t yet answered her. My gaze landed on the red gown farthest to the right.
Peter had insisted on buying me something new after my disaster at Lakeshire Park.
It was lovely and expensive and carefully tailored.
I supposed he wanted to lift my spirits.
I had felt better—fleetingly—but then I hadn’t any invitations worth wearing it to.
After scandal had ruined my last favorite dress, I had learned to wear them each carefully.
I’d burned the one I’d worn that fateful night not long after returning home. I could not bear to look at it.
What a waste. The fabric alone would have made a generous gift, and the dress itself could have been retailored to fit someone new. Clearly, I’d only been thinking of myself.
The thought now rankled.
“The red, I think. Thank you,” I told Jane. “And perhaps a little rouge on my cheeks.”
She nodded, and before I knew it, a new reflection was staring back at me in the mirror. A beautiful girl. She was bright and pink. She looked as hopeful as a fresh start. As radiant as a debutante with no real notion of the world’s cruelties.
I could almost pretend—for a moment, at least—that nothing bad had ever happened. That I’d never chosen wrong. I’d never had to bargain with the duke, and we’d become friends on our own. I hadn’t needed Mrs. Johns to persuade a suitor; he’d come simply because he’d wanted to.
“He’s here, Miss Wood,” Jane said, reentering the room.
She was all nerves, from the purse of her lips to the fumbling of her hands.
And I remembered—I wasn’t the beautiful woman in the mirror.
I was the woman they’d all be gaping at.
The one they either shied away from or spoke to so they’d have something to discuss later.
I followed Jane to the stairs, to the voices carrying from below.
Lord Reynolds was dressed in a sharply tailored black jacket and a doubly knotted, diamond-studded cravat.
He was the very picture of a clean-shaven and polished gentleman.
Elegant Maggie stood by her husband, the quietest man I’d ever met, and Gabriel, who looked just as handsome and refined.
“Beautiful!” She clapped, and the men turned as I descended.
Lord Reynolds collected me at the bottom of the stairs. “Worth the wait by far.”
I shook my head and grinned at his compliment, but it felt more playful than anything. Gabriel watched us like a dutiful guardian while Maggie kissed Thomas goodbye.
“Enjoy yourself.” Thomas smiled into their kiss. “But miss me.”
“I always miss you,” she whispered back, threading her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Good heavens. My stomach flipped with envy just watching them.
Gabriel coughed, shaking his head like there was a foul taste in his mouth. “Shall we?”
The ride went smoothly. Lord Reynolds was polite, and Maggie was attentive and quiet in contemplation.
I wanted to ask her how she’d known Thomas was the right match. How she’d felt when they met. Was it instant, their connection? Or did it take time to develop into the love I’d just witnessed?
Before long, we arrived at the front of Drury Lane.
Large domed gaslights illuminated the front side, which was swarming with guests. Their eyes darting to mine, and around.
All wondering the same thing I found myself wondering—
Was the Duke of Marlow among the crowd?