“She called me ‘Henry’s bastard’ the first time I met her.” George reached for another piece of toast and spread it lavishly with marmalade.
Cal turned to Emm. “You didn’t tell me that!” To George, he said, “Sheknewyou were entirely legitimate. I informed her weeks ago, long before we came to London.”
George shrugged. “I’ve been called a bastard before.”
“Not in my house,” Cal growled, clenching his fist. “And never again.”
Emm could see from his expression that he was quietly furious.
He leaned across the table and took his niece’s hand. “My late brother did you a grave injustice, Georgiana. The way he treated you—and your mother—was disgraceful. Shameful. You should have been known to us—to the family—since your birth, if not before. You should not have had to struggle to support yourself—and others—should not have been so alone—” He broke off, his voice a little ragged, and took a mouthful of coffee. Recovering his composure, Emm thought.
“In short, George, this family owes you a massive apology, and I will do everything in my power to make it up to you.”
She glanced at George, who was regarding Cal gravely, her gray eyes, so like his, shining with liquid emotion. “Thank you, Cal,” she said huskily.
Emm was glad now that she’d mentioned it, glad Cal had taken the opportunity to say what he felt—show what he felt—to George. She didn’t think he’d truly explained to thegirl before. He tended to do things quietly and not draw attention to them.
Now, hearing him like this, nobody could doubt his sincerity. It was clear to them all that his fine sense of honor had been flayed by his brother’s neglect of his daughter.
“Once probate is finalized, I’ve instructed my lawyer to arrange the same settlement for you that my father made for my sisters. A sum of money that will be yours—to be kept in trust until you marry or turn five-and-twenty.”
“You mean if I don’t marry, I will still have money.”
He nodded. “You will never go hungry again.”
The other two girls looked at George in surprise. “Hungry?”
She saw their shocked expressions and laughed. “Don’t look so horrified, aunts-of-mine. It’s not as bad as he makes out. I’m pretty good at shooting rabbits and catching fish, so we never did go really hungry.”
George didn’t realize it, but her casual admission had only underlined the desperation of her former situation.
“I thought you hated hunting,” Lily said.
“I hate hunting for sport—fifty men and a hundred hounds chasing one little fox. It’s beastly. Hunting for food is different. It’s natural.”
“Well, you’ll never need to do that again.” Cal’s face was grim. “And in the meantime, I’ll have a word with Aunt Agatha.”
“She only said it that once,” Emm reminded him. “I don’t think she’ll do it again.” She looked meaningfully at Rose and George. “Unless she’s provoked, of course.”
Cal nodded. He addressed himself to the girls, but Emm knew he was including her as well when he said, “I know Aunt Agatha can be outrageous and unbearably rude at times, but I’d be grateful if you at leasttriednot to antagonize her. She is one of the leaders of the ton, you know, and has enormous influence. Like it or not, with all of us knowing hardly anyone in London, we’re going to need her help.”
The girls exchanged glances but said nothing more.
After breakfast was over and the girls had gone upstairs to change, Cal said to Emm, “I’m sorry Aunt Agatha is being so difficult. I’d hoped she would help you launch thegirls. For some reason I can’t quite understand, she’s a very popular member of the ton.”
“I’ll try to be good,” Emm said. “But if she rips into Lily again—she goes on about her being fat, and honestly, Cal, if you’d seen the poor girl’s face. And she’s not fat.”
“I know. Rose has Aunt Agatha’s naturally slender build, as does George, but Lily is built like Aunt Dottie and has her affectionate nature as well.” He gave her his arm, and they climbed the stairs together.
“It seems so wrong that your aunt Agatha married three times and yet sweet-natured Dottie never married at all,” she mused.
“I know. According to my father, Dottie had a tremendously successful season and had more than a dozen extremely eligible offers.”
“Really? Then why do you think she didn’t marry?”
“No idea. I gather she didn’t much like London, because my grandfather had to rail and storm to get her to do a second and a third season. Which she did, and had even more eligible offers. A duke, a marquis, all sorts of quite brilliant matches were offered her—she was quite a beauty, you know—but she turned them all down and couldn’t wait to get back to Ashendon.”
“And later she moved to Bath?”
