“Is your husband not joining us?” Georgiana asked politely.
She knew little about Lady Camoys. Except what Felicity had mentioned about the woman having had some…amorous encounters with the Duke of Ironcrest. Georgiana stilled. Whereas before she had felt a rush of jealousy hearing that, now…now she felt nothing. The thought of being with the Duke—she shook her head, trying to shake off the thought. Her stomach turned. There was only one man she wanted.
“My husband wants absolutely nothing to do with me,” Mare said. “We were betrothed since birth. Neither of us wanted this marriage. He’s off in France with his lover”—she waved her hand in a direction Georgiana was fairly certain wasn’t France—“so we both do as we please. Honestly, the freedom is a Godsend.”
Georgiana glanced at Felicity, who was studying her friend, scrutinizing. Georgiana could understand enjoying that sort of freedom. But she also thought it sounded a bit lonely. Empty.
She glanced over to where her husband stood, nose pink from the cold, speaking with his brother and a newly arrived Lord Wessex. It was so subjective. She had hope that her marriage was going to be a happy one. She wouldn’t relish in the freedom Maribeth spoke of. But then there were Felicity and Lord Wessex, a fiancé who didn’t give a second thought to splashing his exploits all over the gossip columns. Not to mention the number of cruel men that existed out there. So, she supposed, sometimes that freedom was a blessing.
All three women stared at the group of men. The three formed quite a dashing image. Fitz, comfortable and at ease, was striking, his square jaw and tousled curls peeking from beneath his topper. Lord Wessex was an extremely attractive man as well, tall, lean, a rectangular face with a sharp jaw. He was one of the most handsome men Georgiana had ever seen, actually. And it was said his father was even more so. The Devastating Duke, they called him. And then there was Lord Bentley—
“He’s so pretty,” Mare whined.
“No,” Felicity said sharply.
“But, but, but. Pleaaaaaaase.”
Felicity planted her hands on her hips. “No, Mare. He is off limits.”
The woman let out a dramatic sigh and turned to Georgiana. “Felicity says I’m not allowed to bed her brother.”
Georgiana’s eyes shot wide, and she glanced at Felicity. She sure hoped the woman wasn’t talking about—
“Oh! Lord Bentley, of course.” Mare giggled. “Oh, dear. I see how that could have been misinterpreted.” She looked back at the group and stared wistfully at the man. “He’s just so pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so beautiful.”
Georgiana could see the woman’s dilemma. He was stunning. Where her husband had a strong jaw with sharp angles, Lord Bentley had softer features with prominent high cheekbones. He was just as tall and broad, slightly more burly, but he was more feline in nature, like a lion. A lion in looks and how he led his family.
“You know the rules, Mare. You can sleep with the entirety of the ton, I don’t care. But my brothers are off limits.” Felicity turned to Georgiana. “I don’t know what to do with this woman. Biggest lightskirt I know,” she said fondly.
Mare’s blue eyes danced as she gave a self-deprecating shrug, and Georgiana giggled.
“Now”—Felicity clapped, her voice commanding—“we must come up with a battle plan for this snowball fight. Objective one. Win. Objective two. Hit Lord Wessex in the head as many times as possible. Objective three—”
“Accidentally-on-purpose fall on Lord Bentley,” Mare said.
Felicity blinked at her best friend, her face pure exasperation. She shook her head and pointed to a small grouping of shrubbery. “Let us start building up our ammunition of snowballs behind there. That will be our protective barricade.”
They made their way to the shrubbery, Maribeth shooting looks Lord Bentley’s way, swaying her hips, which really only made her look like an evergreen bell swinging back and forth stuffed as she was in so many layers.
“Lord help me,” Felicity said, looking heavenward. “The woman is incorrigible.”
Felicity blew out a breath and hurried after Lady Camoys, muttering that Lord Bentley wasn’t in the least interested in what Mare had to offer, anyway.
Georgiana followed the pair, a sense of belonging lighting up inside her, brighter than the sunlight reflecting off the fresh snow before her. And sunlight reflecting off fresh snow? It was blinding.
37
Fitz
Fitz’sgazefollowedthescurrying women disappearing behind a large, snow-covered shrubbery. No more time for dithering.
“Shall we get to it, then?” Lord Wessex asked, and then turned to Fitz. “I know Felicity enjoys a rigorous snowball fight, and Lady Camoys always seems to go for my jugular—no idea why. I swear the woman dislikes me for some odd reason.”
Fitz barely held back his snort.No idea why. That was rich. How about because the man stuck his prick in every woman who wasn’t his fiancé. Lady Camoys was a protective best friend. It was a bummer, truly. Because Lord Wessex was a fun chap. But he wasn’t going to make Felicity happy. And Fitz hated that.
“But, ah, your new wife,” Lord Wessex was saying. “Should I avoid throwing snowballs at her? I know most ladies possess delicate constitutions.”
Fitz discreetly studied his wife as the three men made their way to a gathering of trees. She stood with Flick, while Flick was miming throwing a snowball, adjusting Georgiana’s arms and legs. His wife’s lack of experience didn’t fool him. She would embrace this competition with the same vigor she did all endeavors. Blood rushed to his cock. Shite. He should not think about Georgiana embracing anything with vigor right now.
