When George told them about how Aunt Agatha had conspired with the Duchess of Everingham to trick her into making what she thought was a deathbed promise, Rose hissed with outrage.
“I never did like that woman,” she said. “All the time I was betrothed to her son she was—I don’t know how to describe it—always very sweet to me but with a kind of poisonous undertone.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” George said. “Sounding as sweet as honey, but you know there’s something rotten beneath. Took me a while to realize it.”
Rose nodded. “She’s going to make a frightful mother-in-law.”
George wasn’t so sure. If the duke adored his mother, it would be ghastly, but he didn’t. He was very aware of her selfish, manipulative nature. And when it counted, he had stepped in, very much on George’s side.
“And of course the duke must have known what she—” Lily began.
“No, he didn’t,” George said quickly. “In fact, as soon as he realized what had happened, how his mother had tricked me, he insisted on exposing the lie, and...” She bit her lip.
“And what?” Rose asked impatiently after a moment.
“He offered to release me from the betrothal.”
There was a moment’s shocked silence.
“He offered to release you?” Lily looked puzzled. “But you’re still betrothed—aren’t you?”
Rose exchanged a knowing glance with her sister. “Yes, George, why is that?”
“Ohhhh,” Lily said on a long note of discovery. “Youlikethe duke, George.”
“I do not,” George said emphatically. “He’s arrogant, high-handed and bossy. He thinks he knows what’s best for everyone, and he does what he wants and everyone else has to jump to his command.”
Lily gave her a considering look. “That’s quite a list. What do you think, Rose?”
Rose said archly, “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
George continued, “He’s selfish and closed-up”—she tried to think of more grievances she had against the duke—“and he’s possessive. When he thought I’d run away to Bath—I’d gone with Aunt Dottie—he came chasing after me and ordered me into his own carriage—even though I was already on my way back to London.”
“He thought you’d run away?” Rose echoed.
“Yes, with a rake.”
“Which rake? Do you even know any rakes?” Rose asked. George ignored her.
Lily said thoughtfully, “Possessive? I rather like the thought of possessive.”
“You can have it, then,” George retorted. She was feeling oddly defensive. “I don’t like it. It makes me feel... I don’t know, trapped.” Though that wasn’t quite the word. “I need to be free.”
“And yet when he offered you your freedom, you chose to remain betrothed,” Lily pointed out. “Why was that?”
“Yes, George, dear,” Rose cooed. “Why was that?”
George pondered the question. Truth to tell, she still wasn’t quite sure why she’d allowed the betrothal to stand when she’d been offered a clear way out. She gave an awkward shrug and wished she’d never begun this conversation. It was taking her into uncomfortable depths.
“I suppose I was used to it by then. I didn’t want to make a fuss.”
Rose burst out laughing. “Not want to make a fuss? You? You’ll have to do better than that, George, dearest. This is us, recall? We know you.”
“All right, then,” she said grumpily, “I decided I want a baby.”
“Well, of course you do. We all do, especially after seeing Emm’s darling little boy. Isn’t little Bertie just adorable?” Lily gushed. “Those big bright eyes.”
“No, it doesn’t wash,” Rose said. “If it was just the matter of a baby, George could have chosen any one of the perfectly nice—and easy to control—men who’ve been mooning after her all season. It doesn’t explain why she stayed betrothed to the duke—seeing she ‘dislikes’ him so much. Or claims to.”
