Lady Felicity laughed. “Apologies, I am just a bit overeager to have another woman in the family.Brothers.” She rolled her eyes and groaned, but her amber eyes twinkled. Her smile softened, and she tilted her head. Her fingers fiddled with the bottom of her plait, fluffing the hair. “I imagine it isn’t easy being thrown into a new family.”
“It has been…dizzying. But you all have been exceptionally kind. And I’m looking forward to getting to know you all.” If she was granted the opportunity at all with her husband. That seemed the most important of the lot—and the least likely.
Lady Felicity frowned. “There’s that forlorn look again. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I apologize, Lady Fel—”
“Ahem.Felicity.” The young woman’s amber brows shot up expectantly, and she batted her eyelashes patiently at Georgiana.
“Felicity,” Georgiana amended with a faint twitch of her lips. “I assure you, your family has been nothing but gracious. The closeness between you all is…well, I only have an elder brother who has long since traveled to America, so, truly, I am excited to be a part of the Jennings fold. I have always wanted a family like that.”I have always wanted any semblance of family at all.
Felicity’s eyes sparkled, and she bounced once on her toes. “Oh, you will not be disappointed, I promise! We Jennings—we know how to have fun.” She turned to gaze out the window. “We run wild over this estate. Even now, grown as we are.” She glanced at Georgiana from the corner of her eye, cocking a brow. “As long as you enjoy a bit of wildness too, you’ll fit right in.”
Oh dear, if only the woman knew. Georgiana lived for reckless rivalry. It was her escape from her lonely existence. She had always known eventually she’d be granted an actual escape when she married—no longer a disappointment to her father and a pawn for her mother.
But she never fooled herself into thinking she’d be escaping into a better situation. Not with the sorry types her mother shoved her toward. The cloud of melancholy hovered over her, threatening to sink lower. Apparently, that hadn’t stopped her naïve heart from hoping, from holding on to the fanciful notions of love and family and belonging.
There was no more dreaming, though. Because her future was now. And it depended on a stranger, a man she knew almost nothing about and who apparently had no desire to know anything about her.
“I do delight in a bit of devilry,” she said, summoning cheer from God only knew where. “I’d love to hear stories of your escapades.”
Felicity grinned, wide and impish. “Oh, do I have stories for you.”
And so, Georgiana and Felicity chatted, the young woman’s infectious exuberance gradually dispelling the gloom. They eventually joined Lady Jennings and Georgiana’s mother for a fresh pot of tea and biscuits, only to be treated with more tales. Georgiana sipped on steaming hot tea and soaked in the stories of a childhood so much different from her own. She thought she was going to very much like the Jennings.
Smoky amber eyes and freckled cheeks, nearly hidden beneath a deep blush, flitted through her mind.
Why did that still leave her hollow inside?
7
Georgiana
Georgianashruggedintoherheavy wool coat, grabbed her muffs, and followed her mother from the drawing room to the carriages that awaited them on the front drive. She lifted her chin. Though this past week had done nothing to lift her hopes about her impending marriage, she was determined to give it her best try.
Because she was a fighter. She and Mr. Jennings were about to vow their lives to each other. For better or for worse. Right now, it seemed worse. In sickness and health. Right now, it seemed a bit like a sickness. But she would do her best to make this marriage tolerable for the both of them. She had a chance for a fresh start. Perhaps she would find a family who wanted to know her. Wasn’t disappointed that she was born a woman and saw her as more than a pretty face to lure a lord.
So far, the Jennings had seemed welcoming and warm and simply…wonderful. A niggling feeling wormed its way into her gut. That same feeling she’d experienced when her fiancé had so blatantly dismissed her from his study. The one that said she was an inconvenience, a hindrance, abother. A very familiar feeling.
She tried to remind herself that this could be much worse. She could have ended up with one of the balding, gout-suffering, elderly lords her mother had been pushing her toward. Like the donkey-man. Her soon-to-be husband was young. He had all his hair—and it was a lovely shade of amber. He did sweat quite a bit, especially for December, but the strong, square jaw and freckles dusting his face made up for it. The thought of bedding him didn’t make her want to flee across the Atlantic.
Which had her mind drifting to their impending wedding night. She stepped out the front door, and her stomach dropped to the icy ground. She blew out a breath, and all her disappointment fogged the air in front of her. Georgiana supposed she could kiss her proclivities farewell. The nervous man walking ahead of her, who had just tripped and nearly landed face-first in a pile of fluffy snow, couldn’t possibly entertain her desires. She wasn’t sure he could entertain consummation at all.
A biting wind picked up, sharp against her cheeks and in her lungs.
“Dear heavens,” her mother grumbled. “We are to have another severe winter. I am at a loss to understand this dratted weather. This year has been the wettest England has surely ever seen, and now the coldest.”
Georgiana hummed in agreement; the unusual weather had caused a host of problems. Though mother complained because it meant she couldn’t parade around with the fashionable set, showing off the expensive wares Father had purchased for her. Her mother didn’t think about how the excessive amount of rain had caused a food shortage. How those who farmed were hurting because the harvest had been drastically hindered. How those who weren’t sitting on a fortune from textiles had empty bellies. But that was Mama.
Georgiana settled in their carriage, her mother and father sinking into the seat opposite her. Her father sat back, unfolding his tall, lean form and rested an arm across the top of the squabs of the conveyance.
But her mother leaned toward Georgiana and patted her knee. “Do not fret, Georgiana.”
Mother had clearly misunderstood Georgiana’s silence as apprehension. It wasn’t. Silence was just the best way to deal with her mother. It wasn’t as though her mother heard anything Georgiana said anyhow. So why waste her breath?
“This isn’t a terrible match,” Mother continued. “Mr. Jennings is next in line to inherit. The current Earl isn’t even married, and his mother—Lord knows why—isn’t putting any pressure on him. If he were to die, your son would be heir!”
Georgiana blinked. As she had said, it was best to just stay silent. What on earth did someone say to such a morbid statement?
