“Just one last thing,” Hart said.
She paused and turned toward him with narrowed eyes.
“You do intend to go through with this wedding, don’t you, Lady Georgiana?”
Her gray eyes turned to chips of ice. Her hands knotted into fists, crumpling her list in one hand. “I gave you my word, didn’t I?” Without waiting for his response, she swept from the room.
Ashendon blotted the document he’d made his notes on. “Doesn’t do to challenge George on her word of honor, you know. As you can see, she’s a mite touchy about it.”
Hart snorted. “I’ve never met a woman yet who has any real idea of honor—it’s all self-interest with them.”
“Then your life is about to change.” Ashendon leaned back in his chair, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I foresee interesting times ahead for you, Everingham. Very interesting times.”
Chapter Eleven
There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.
—JANE AUSTEN,PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
After the settlements had been agreed on and signed by both parties, the next item to be negotiated was the date of the wedding. The duke had informed Cal he wanted it to be as soon as possible. But it was up to George and her family to make the final choice.
George wasn’t sure what she wanted—in one way she’d be happy to wait for a year, but then there were those feelings, the hot, sweaty, restless, hungry-but-not-for-food feelings where she woke, enmeshed in lurid dreams of being naked in bed with the duke. A year of that would drive her mad—if indeed they lasted that long. But there was no way of telling.
She wanted them to be over and done with. Once the duke had bedded her, she was sure the disturbing sensations would go away, and she’d be able to sleep peacefully in her bed once more.
In the end they agreed on a date just over three weeks away, which gave time for the banns to be called in church. Aunt Agatha had given a flat veto to the duke’s plan for a special license. “Bad enough the scandal that forced thismarriage in the first place,” she said. “If you rush the business through, you know what people will think. As it is, they will be counting back from the date your first child is born.”
Her first child? George couldn’t imagine it. She glanced across at Emm, huge now with the imminent birth of her baby. How must that feel?
“Yes,” Emm said. “And we need time to order clothes. George will need a wedding dress.”
“And the rest,” Aunt Agatha added. “A trousseau fit for a duchess.”
George didn’t like the sound of that.
“I’ll speak to my dressmaker, Hortense—” Aunt Agatha continued.
“No,” George said. She’d met Hortense once, and hadn’t liked her a bit. Toplofty, more snobbish even than Aunt Agatha, and her clothes might be very elegant but in George’s opinion they were old lady clothes. “I’ll get everything I need from Miss Chance.” Daisy Chance was nice, and George felt comfortable with her. And Daisy had a way of making clothes that exactly suited their wearer.
When George had first come to London, she’d been still getting used to wearing dresses. The idea of ball dresses and morning dresses and carriage dresses and evening dresses and all the other kind of dresses was quite overwhelming to a girl who hadn’t even owned a dress until a few months before. But Miss Chance had understood, and had even made her some special breeches that George could wear under her dresses so that she didn’t feel so naked and exposed. Dresses were drafty.
Aunt Agatha sniffed. “That common little Cockney can’t possibly outfit a duchess. She would have no idea where to start.”
“She can practice on me, then—”
“Don’t be ridic—”
“Miss Chance has done very well by all of us,” Emm interjected calmly. “I see no reason why George should not continue to patronize her for her wedding dress and trousseau. So that’s settled.”
Aunt Agatha looked as though she’d swallowed a lemon, but she didn’t argue. One didn’t argue with the woman about to give birth to the Ashendon Heir.
Lord help Emm if she had a girl.
“I’ll come with you to see Miss Chance, dear,” Aunt Dottie offered. “I have a mind to order some garments from her too. Something a little special. We’ll have fun together, won’t we, George?”
George grinned. “Thanks, Aunt Dottie, that’d be lovely.”
George could see Aunt Agatha was wrestling with herself. She’d rather sit in a puddle than be seen entering the House of Chance, but she also didn’t want to hand over the serious business of Clothing a Future Duchess to her frivolous younger sister. Anyone who would describe such an important task as “fun” was clearly not to be trusted.
