That and visiting hours. Folks insisted on coming by in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her husband as well as to talk with her. Georgiana couldn’t help but be amused by them, often jumping at every noise and craning their necks.
“You don’t think he shall join us?” a dubious young debutante asked, alongside her two sisters and mother.
Georgiana smiled as she answered the question for the fifth time that day. “He shall not, I’m afraid. He’s very busy. How do you like the cakes? My cook and I are studying new recipes.”
Everyone loved the cakes. Even one of the older gentlemen who was losing his teeth and had been forced to visit with his gossiping old wife and her friend. He dare not tell her otherwise. At first, Georgiana had been irritated by the influx of visitors. But her cousin reminded her the visits wouldn’t last forever, and she might as well distract herself with them. In time, interest about her and her husband would wane.
That’s the only matter. I wish they would stop asking after him. I know nothing about him. Only that he doesn’t like to be bothered and isn’t interested in spending time with me. I wonder how he would react if I told everyone that I think his favorite color is green and his favorite scent is gardenias?
Besides, after visiting hours came her alone time. She had decided to use it by redecorating the old home.
It had a beautiful structure and a lot of promise. Much of the furniture was falling apart, however, and needed to be replaced for safety. Wallpaper was peeling badly in most corners, and there was often an old smell in less frequented corners.
While she had the house carefully cleaned, Georgiana had swept through the front parlor with the red and gold tones. It was fine. That was what her husband said. She chose to take it as inspiration.
Perhaps he will say the same thing about the next room? Or satisfactory. Or average.
She snorted to herself as she took another note. They would need to replace some boards in the bookcase, since it was beginning to lean to the left.
“Maybe remove it,” she said under her breath as she scribbled another note. “Bookcase is blocking morning light. Switch sides?”
Slipping her notebook into her pocket, Georgiana paused to reassess the room. She tugged on an overly large chair and brought it across the room. Then she paused to look just as a figure appeared in the doorway.
Her heartbeat was already beating too quickly to have heard him arrive. Still, her breath caught in her chest when she looked at him.
It was Owen. Her husband. Every time she caught a glimpse of him, Georgiana was beginning to feel thrilled, as if she had caught a fairy. It was rare to find him in the large house, especially since it seemed he was avoiding her.
“Good afternoon!” she greeted loudly, offering a broad grin.
As usual, he eyed her with slight suspicion and a frown. “Good afternoon, Duchess.”
He was dressed more casually now than he had been that morning. This meant the day was only half over, and she had seen him twice. It felt like an omen. For what, she could not know.
At it stood, her husband was handsomely underdressed. He had lost the cravat she last saw hanging loosely around his neck. His waistcoat had been unbuttoned, not a jacket in sight, and his white shirt was open at the collar. She wasn’t certain she had ever seen a man’s bare neck before. When her gaze landed on the bare stretch of skin, she felt her stomach flutter.
Georgiana hurriedly looked away. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Hm? No.” He turned away to look around the room blankly. “The room looks different now.”
“I thought I might brighten it up,” she noted.
His brow furrowed. “The walls are still dark.”
“That’s because I haven’t redone them yet,” Georgiana responded, working to keep mild irritation from her voice. “It will be a light blue room, I believe. All that has been done is that I have moved some furniture to open the space.”
“Hm.”
It was a small grunt, but it was still enough for her to lose her confidence. She had clung to it dearly every day. After his words this morning, she didn’t know what to think about him. If he ignored her, it was admittedly easier. But if he paid her attention, then she would need to be mindful of what she said and did. That sounded exhausting.
Especially if he doesn’t like my idea. Fine, he said, about the other room. It’s a good thing he’ll never see the inside of my bedchamber. I’ve been moving around half the furniture almost daily, so it is rather cluttered now. But what will he think of this? Will he care? Will he have opinions? If he thinks to punish me or scold me, I can’t promise a fair reaction.
“That would be nice.”
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Nice,” he echoed.
Owen’s gaze flitted about the room before slowly settling on her. A warm shiver crept up her spine.
