“How old is he?”
“I believe he’s thirty-one.”
Georgie made a face. “That makes him eleven years older than me,” she said. “That’s not a big difference, isn’t it?”
“Big enough,” Martina said in her low contralto.
“Is he...he’s not married, is he?”
Martina kept her expression blank, but Georgie realized she could read right through her innocent questions. “No, miss, as far as I know, he’s never married. He’s footloose and fancy free. And he’s not going to be looking at a young lady like you.”
“Of course not,” Georgie said hastily. “I was just curious.”
“If you have any more questions, you’d best ask him yourself,” Martina said firmly. “In the meantime, let’s get you dressed. Your mother has been asking for you.”
Now that the possibility of Rafferty being married had entered her mind, however, she couldn’t let go of it. And it wasn’t as if he would stay still long enough to answer her questions—every time she saw him he disappeared on some mysterious errand.
But she would have him to herself that afternoon. She would insist on a long walk, and even if he refused to answer her very reasonable questions, he would still be there with her, with no one to distract him.
By the time she reached her mother’s salon, visiting hours were already in progress. She paused at the door for a moment, watching all the gentlemen surrounding her sister, and she tried to slip away, only to back into Rafferty. He caught her arm to keep her from stumbling, and she wanted to lean back against him, but he was pulling her away when her mother caught sight of her.
“Georgiana!” she trilled. “Come in and meet our callers!” For some reason, Rafferty’s hand tightened, as if he was reluctant to let her go, but then a moment later he released her, and she decided she must have imagined it.
She plastered a demure smile on her face, one that turned genuine when Andrew Salton rose from his seat beside Norah and came forward. “Miss Georgiana,” he said warmly. “I was hoping I might see you.”
“Mr. Salton,” she replied happily, still enjoying the memory of Rafferty’s strong hand on her arm. For some reason, Norah’s admirers were paying Georgie sudden attention, and she saw the hint of a frown at the corner of her sister’s beautiful mouth. A moment later, disaster was averted when the gentlemen turned back to Norah, and Georgie was left with Andrew Salton.
“Did you like the flowers I sent?” he asked, once they were seated.
“They were lovely,” she lied, having assumed all the floral tributes were for her sister. She glanced toward the door, some random instinct telling her that Rafferty was close by.
He wasn’t watching her, a disappointment, but he wasn’t watching Norah either. His attention seemed fixed on the man beside her, a disapproving expression on his face.
“I’m hoping you’ll honor me with a dance this evening,” Andrew Salton was saying, unaware of her distraction.
“A dance...oh, yes,” she quickly recovered, and smiled warmly at him. “That would be lovely.” She hadn’t danced since the cotillions held near their country estate, and she’d missed it. Dancing with Andrew would be very pleasant. And she wondered if Rafferty knew how to dance.
Rafferty knew how to do everything. She glanced back at the doorway, but he’d disappeared, and she felt a pang. Why couldn’t Rafferty be Andrew Salton, a perfectly unexceptional guest? It would make life so much easier. She planted a smile on her face and turned to Mr. Salton, trying to banish Rafferty from her mind.
Andrew and the horde of other gentlemen were rising, the strict timing of a morning call coming into play, and were gone before Georgie could get up the desire to even flirt with him. She watched him go with a sigh.
Norah looked at her from across the room, her eyes narrowing. “Why did you decide to join us this morning?” she demanded sharply. “Calling hours are for the senior members of the household.”
Georgie ran a hand down the soft muslin of her new dress. “I thought that I should, now that I’m no longer dressed like an aging schoolgirl.”
Norah let out a long-suffering sigh. “I think it would be better if you didn’t join us for calling hours, at least not until I marry. You look absurd in that dress, and then you monopolize a gentleman’s attention with that aging schoolgirl act. I’m certain Mr. Salton found you quite ridiculous.”
“I think the dress is lovely. And I wasn’t monopolizing anyone’s attention. I was just talking with him.”
“Don’t be absurd!” Norah said. “He’s only here to see me, and then he has to deal with your puppy-dog attentions. I thought you were madly in love with our butler. Keep away from my suitors.”
“Mr. Salton isn’t your suitor!” she shot back, ignoring the jibe about Rafferty. Not that she wanted Mr. Salton paying court to her, but she was so tired of Norah getting everything, all the attention, all the gentlemen, all the love.
“Oh, isn’t he?” Norah said archly. “Why did you decide to join us this morning?”
“I told her to join us,” her mother said with a trace of asperity. “You aren’t the only one in need of a husband in this family.”
Norah jerked her head upright in sudden disapproval. “You aren’t giving her one of my admirers! I won’t have it!”
