Chapter Eleven
James
The next morning, James followed the aromas of toasted bread and sizzling ham downstairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Honeycutt bustled past with a tray of perfectly boiled eggs, while Cecily poured tea. The atmosphere felt lighter somehow, as if a weight had been lifted from the household.
James settled into his usual chair at the long oak table, his dark hair still damp and tousled from washing. Soon, the ladies were seated as well, though he noticed Georgiana seemed quieter than usual, stealing glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.
They were all about to dig in when Cecily set down her teacup, her hands trembling slightly. “Mrs. Honeycutt, Mrs. Ellsworth, I have something wonderful to share with you both.”
The two women looked up expectantly.
“Lord Ashford has made the most generous offer. He’s going to sponsor my Season. Everything—gowns, presentations, even a dowry. I’m to have my debut this spring.”
Mrs. Honeycutt’s mouth fell open. Mrs. Ellsworth pressed both hands to her heart.
“What? My lord, truly?”
James shifted uncomfortably in his seat, heat rising in his cheeks. “It’s nothing extraordinary. Miss Cecily deserves her chance.”
“Nothing extraordinary?” Mrs. Ellsworth’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, my dear boy, this is absolutely brilliant.”
Mrs. Honeycutt abandoned all pretense of propriety and rushed around the table to envelop James in a fierce hug. “Bless you. Bless your generous heart.”
“Mrs. Honeycutt, please.” James’s face burned. “It’s really not—”
“Don’t you dare diminish this.” She pulled back to look at him sternly.
“I agree,” Mrs. Ellsworth said. “This is the kind of thing your dear father would have done. He’d be so proud.”
James’s eyes pricked with tears. He glanced at Georgiana, who was watching him with such warmth that he had to look away.
Mrs. Ellsworth had moved to Cecily’s side and was stroking her hair like she would a daughter. “A Season, my dear girl. You’ll be the belle of every ball. Those London gentlemen won’t know what hit them.”
“And with a proper dowry, you’ll have your pick of suitors.” Mrs. Honeycutt returned to her seat but seemed unable to stop beaming. “Oh, the shopping you’ll need to do! Gowns and gloves and dancing slippers…”
James found himself smiling despite his embarrassment. The joy radiating from the women was infectious, and seeing Cecily’s face light up with hope made the tightness in his chest ease.
But as he watched the celebration unfold around him, his thoughts turned inward.
Why had he really made the offer? Yes, seeing Georgiana’s devastation when her mother announced the debt had been unbearable.
The way her face had crumpled, the way she’d gripped the settee as if the world were tilting beneath her—it had stirred something fierce and protective in him.
He couldn’t stand the thought of either sister suffering. Not Cecily, who deserved every chance at happiness, and certainly not Georgiana, who had already sacrificed so much for her family.
But if he was being honest with himself, there was more to it than simple compassion.
The moment Lavinia had casually destroyed their future, James had felt something crystallize inside him. Not just anger at the woman’s selfishness, but a desperate need to fix it, to protect them, to keep them safe and close.
To keep Georgiana close.
Because somewhere between her first day at Ashford Manor and last night’s revelation about her marriage, he’d fallen hard. His heart belonged to Georgiana. In fact, a future without her seemed impossible. Yes, it was all true. He couldn’t imagine spending his life with anyone but her.
The realization should have terrified him. He’d spent years convinced he was too damaged for love, too broken by his childhood to offer anyone a whole heart. But watching Georgiana bring his home back to life, seeing her strength and grace and kindness, had changed something fundamental inside him.
He was in love with her laugh, with the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she was thinking, with her fierce protectiveness toward Cecily. He was in love with her courage and her vulnerability. With the way she made him want to be the man his father had raised him to be.
“Lord Ashford?” Mrs. Ellsworth’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “I asked if you’d like me to arrange for accommodations in London?”
“Yes, of course.” He was grateful for the distraction. “Whatever arrangements you think best. A rental for the Season somewhere appropriate.”
“And we’ll need to plan shopping expeditions and hire a dressmaker.” Mrs. Honeycutt’s excitement was palpable. “A proper wardrobe takes time to assemble.”
Georgiana finally spoke up, her voice soft. “I still can’t quite believe it’s real.”
Their eyes met across the table, and James felt that familiar jolt of awareness. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t just generosity driving him. He wanted to confess that the thought of her leaving once Cecily was settled made him feel hollow inside.
But he couldn’t. Not yet. She saw him as a benefactor, a kind friend. The last thing she needed was the complication of his feelings.
“It’s very real. And Cecily is going to take London by storm.”
Cecily blushed prettily. “I hope I don’t disappoint you, my lord.”
“Impossible. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
But even as he said it, his gaze drifted to Georgiana. Because while any man would indeed be lucky to have Cecily, there was only one woman James wanted for himself.
And she was sitting just out of reach, looking at him like he’d hung the moon, completely unaware that he was already lost to her.
“Well then, we’d best finish breakfast. We have a Season to plan!” Mrs. Honeycutt clapped her hands together.
As the conversation turned to practical matters—dressmakers and dancing masters and presentation gowns—James allowed himself to imagine, just for a moment, what it might be like if Georgiana looked at him not with gratitude, but with love.
The thought was dangerous, and wonderful, and utterly terrifying.
But for the first time in his life, James Ashford found himself hoping for something he’d never thought he deserved.
*
The tailor’s bell jangled softly as James stepped into the narrow shop.
He’d not visited since his return but he had vague recollections of accompanying his father at one time or another.
The scent of the place tugged at his memories, the distinctive scents of beeswax candles, wool, and the faint tang of heated pressing irons, reminding him of a time long past. Although the weather remained dreary, good light came in from the large front windows.
Rolls of fabric were stacked on wooden shelves.
Behind a worn oak counter stood Mr. Drayton himself.
He straightened at the sight of James, a grin breaking out on his face.
“Lord Ashford, how delightful to see you again.” Mr. Drayton bobbed his head. “Is it time for your wardrobe? I’ve been praying every night you would come to me.”
“There is no one I’d rather have than you, Mr. Drayton. In fact, I am here to order an entire wardrobe.”
“Much obliged, your grace. Having your order will allow me to keep food on the table.”
Through the partially open door to the back room, James glimpsed a large cutting table strewn with pattern papers and the glint of shears hanging on the wall alongside measuring tapes and other implements of the tailor’s craft.
“I have a friend joining us. She knows how a proper gentleman dresses, whereas I cannot confess to caring much about clothes.”
“But now, you must look your part. Here in the village, we couldn’t be more delighted about your return. You’ve put a lot of young men to work who were facing hard times.”
“It’s my hope that at some point, our village and farms will thrive as they did during my father’s leadership.”
“I’ve no doubt they will,” Mr. Drayton said. “No doubt at all.”
From behind him, the front door opened and in came Lavinia, cheeks flushed from the chilled air and the feathers of her hat quivering as if to indicate their excitement.
“Lord Ashford. How delightful this is.” Lavinia clasped her hands and gave a dazzling smile.
Despite being middle-aged, the woman was beautiful.
Looks she’d passed onto her daughters. Fortunately, that was all she’d given them.
“I never thought I’d have the chance to help another man with his wardrobe.
It was one of the only joys of my marriage. ”
“Good morning, Lady Linley.” He caught a whiff of her jasmine perfume. She must have poured the whole bottle over herself.
He introduced her to Mr. Drayton. “This is the friend I mentioned earlier.”
“It’s an honor to serve you,” Mr. Drayton said.
“Mr. Drayton, we are going to keep you quite busy.” Lavinia whipped out a piece of paper and laid it on the counter. “I took it upon myself to write up a list of what we need. However, if I’ve missed anything, please let us know. The lord must be the best dressed at whatever event he attends.”
James glanced at the list, unable to disagree with Lavinia’s suggestions. His current attire fell so far short of a gentleman’s requirements that outfitting him properly would surely constitute Mr. Drayton’s largest and most lucrative commission in decades. James took comfort in that.