“A perfect friendship, then. A perfect partnership.” The words felt true. The words felt right. Easy enough to let the world think he wooed Lady Georgiana and be able to protect her from fortune hunters in the process. His mother, God rest her soul, would approve.
They bent their heads together over Beatrice and cooed.
ChapterOne
December 22, 1821
Apple Grove House
“No true lady enjoys the country. Pigs reside there. And I don’t mean men. But yes, them, too.” –from The Masculine Inconvenience: Memoirs of a Superior Lady
Adeath and a dare had brought Lady Georgiana Hunt to a place she’d never thought to go—a Christmas house party. She’d loved the yuletide as a girl—the fires, the dancing, the laughter—but her girlhood and her love had died long ago. Now she knew the holiday for the inconvenience it truly was. Pretending to be jolly, talking to family and friends who had no interest in you.
Outside, the air looked fresh and clear, and an apple grove fanned out in rows by the house. Green, rolling lawns and a lake in the distance, frozen under the white winter sky. So very different from London. So much space. No corners to hide in.
She looked away from the window, the soft pink brocade curtains brushing her arm, and down at the letter that had arrived in London but a week ago.
Georgie,
As you well know, I’m hosting a Christmas house party. As I well know, you’ve refused to attend. However, considering you are out of mourning, I think you should.
I dare you.
Kindest regards,
Sarah
A direct dare. Sarah had known she’d not be able to resist. Her addiction to a challenge, her pride—the only reason she was here. It had nothing to do with the lack of challenge in the city now that her fortune hunter problem had been solved. Nothing to do with the silence of an empty townhouse either, void of the family she’d invited for Christmas, the family who had turned down her invitation with a few words in a cold note. Nothing to do with the unexpected loneliness landing like a brick to the head. Not at all.
A knock on the door.
“Come in.” Georgiana paced to the mirror to pat her hair. All neat and in place.
“All changed, I see.” Sarah Evans, Viscountess Flint strode in, her red hair wispy and falling out of its coiffure. “And looking fresh even after hours of travel from London. You always look fresh, even straight out of musty coaches.” She plopped on the bed with a sigh. “I tend toward hoyden at all times.”
“You look lovely,” Georgiana assured her. A truth. Her friend had a welcoming smile and a happy light in her eyes. She wore the kindness of her heart in her face.
“You came. I was not sure if you would.” Sarah’s eyes glittered.
Georgiana snorted. “You doubt my courage? My daring?”
“You know I do not.” Her fingers tracing the design on the coverlet, Sarah let each word drop slowly and thoughtfully into the air. “I was merely unsure if you would dare yourself to defy me. A counter dare if you will.”
“Defy the Dare Queen? Even I am not that brave.” Sarah had caused a scandal with her dares before marrying Xavier, pushing herself to more dangerous actions in order to raise funds for a hospital. Georgiana’s current dare exceeded all of those, offering true terror. Carols? Winter revelry? Mistletoe? She shivered. “A house party, Sarah? At Christmas? You know I am not made for such things.”
“I do. Which is why I dared you. You’ve been so secluded since your aunt’s death. It’s not good for you. You need a challenge. Surviving something you dislike is certainly that.”
“Editing my aunt’s memories is challenging enough, thank you very much.” Georgiana eyed her traveling trunk. Inside sat the manuscript her aunt had worked on for the last decade of her life, the manuscript she’d willed to Georgiana, tasking her with preparing it for publication.
It was always a task with Aunt Prudence. She’d never spoken to Georgiana without some lesson on her lips—men are foolish, women who fall for men are worse, trust few and never anyone with extra equipment between his legs. Every day a lecture since the moment Georgiana had moved into the woman’s house. Until she’d learned them well enough to earn her aunt’s approval. Then Georgiana had been left so much to her own devices that they’d rarely seen one another. Aunt Prudence had always valued independence above all else. It had been Georgiana’s reward for learning so well.
Georgiana strode to her traveling trunk, opened it, found the manuscript, and put it into Sarah’s hands. “There’s already an interested publisher. The man who publishes Lady Escher’s books.”
Sarah held the pages with gentle fingers, almost as if she did not wish to touch the document. Her nose wrinkled. “It smells a bit of cheroots.”
“Aunt Prudence enjoyed them.”
“The Masculine Inconvenience: Memoirs of a Superior Woman,” Sarah read. “Quite the title.”
