“Well, what did you expect? I don’t love him.”
“What does that signify? You don’t follow the advice of your lungs or your kidneys, do you?”
“What—”
“Then don’t listen to your heart so much. Dare is not someone a proper lady with magnificent prospects marries.”
Georgiana put her hands on her hips. “Did you put Westbrook up to this?”
“Of course not.”
“Good. If there’s one thing I don’t need, it’s one of the few people whose counsel I rely on turning into a matchmaker.”
“I only want you to be happy. You know that.”
With a sigh, Georgiana relented. She certainly didn’t want to be at odds with her formidable aunt, of all people. “I know that. Come help me choose a gown to wear to Grey and Emma’s dinner.”
The evening felt like one of the magical ones Georgiana remembered from when Tristan had first begun his pursuit of her, when she’d been a naive debutante fresh out of finishing school. Those dinners had been at Aunt Frederica’s rather than Grey’s, and not all of the Carroway brothers were usually in town at the same time, but it still felt familiar.
She and her aunt were the first guests to arrive at Brakenridge House, and went upstairs to find Emma attempting to teach Grey how to play the harp. From the high color in Emma’s cheeks that hadn’t really been what they were doing, but given her own recent behavior, she wasn’t about to comment on it. At least Grey and Emma were married.
Grey released his wife and the harp and strolled over to kiss Frederica, and then her. “Now tell me,” he said, taking her hands and guiding her away from the other ladies, “do I allow Tristan into the house this evening or not?”
His gaze was both curious and concerned, and she couldn’t help smiling at him. “At the moment, we are friends,” she said. “Whether that will last through dessert or not, I have no idea.”
Her cousin tucked her arm around his and escorted her to the garden window. “Did you hear he was banned from White’s?”
“Yes, he told me.”
“And he told you why?”
Georgiana nodded. “Don’t feel as though you have to protect me from him, Greydon. Your friendship shouldn’t suffer because of me. And I assure you, I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“You aren’t as jaded as you pretend, my dear. Nor am I as obtuse as you and my mother like to think.” The duke sent a warm glance at his wife, who sat chatting with Frederica. “Ask Emma. I figured her out.”
“Yes, and nearly ruined fifty schoolgirls in the process.”
“‘Nearly’ being the operative word, Georgie. Don’t change the subject.”
“All I can tell you is that if I need help, I will ask.”
“You’d better. Never forget that I’m larger and meaner than you are.”
“I couldn’t possibly forget. I still have nightmares of leeches attached to my nose.”
The duke laughed, the sound rolling warm and rich from his chest. She couldn’t help grinning in return, and squeezed his arm. “I’m glad you’re happy,” she said. “You deserve it.”
His smile faded. “Are you happy?”
She shrugged. “At this moment I’m mostly confused.”
“Confused isn’t all bad, cousin. You’re too used to thinking you know the answer to everything, anyway.”
“I don’t know about th—”
With the timing of a playwright, Tristan strolled into the room, Milly on his arm and the rest of the Carroways trailing behind him. Even Robert had come, she noted with some surprise. True, their two families had known one another for years, and they would be the only guests tonight, but it still warmed her heart to see him.
As Tristan approached her, though, the warmth skittered into something hotter. “Hello,” she said.
