“A gentleman who provides financial assistance to people of quality when banks are being tedious about paperwork,” Lavinia said airily. “Very discreet, very accommodating. Though he has developed some rather rigid ideas about when loans should be settled.”
Ice flooded Georgiana’s veins. “How much do you owe him?”
“Well, with the interest that’s accumulated…” Lavinia paused, as if calculating something trivial. “I believe it’s come to roughly twelve hundred pounds.”
The silence that followed felt like the moment before lightning strikes. Georgiana’s vision blurred at the edges, and she gripped the arm of the settee to keep from swaying.
“Twelve hundred pounds?” The words came out as barely a whisper.
“Give or take a few pounds,” Lavinia said cheerfully. “Really, it’s not so very much when you consider what we’ll need for Cecily’s Season anyway. And Mr. Craven has been quite patient, though he did mention something about reputation and consequences if the matter isn’t resolved soon. Dreadful man, really. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything serious by it.”
Beside her, Cecily made a small, choked sound. “Mother, that’s more than Georgiana got from selling Robert’s townhouse.”
“Oh, surely not. That lovely house must have brought in at least—” Lavinia stopped, finally seeming to notice their stricken expressions. “Well, perhaps we’ll need to be a bit creative about funding.”
The room tilted around Georgiana. Everything she’d sacrificed—Robert’s townhouse, her jewelry, her home furnishings, sleeping in cramped rooms in Brighton—all of it had been for Cecily’s future. And now it was gone. Not just gone, but they owed money they didn’t have to a man who made veiled threats.
“There is no funding, Mother.” Georgiana’s voice was as hollow as she felt. “Cecily’s dowry is gone. All of it.”
“Nonsense,” Lavinia said briskly. “We’ll simply have to find another solution. Perhaps Lord Ashford would be willing to advance—”
“Absolutely not.” Georgiana spoke sharply, then glanced apologetically at James, before looking down at her clasped hands. “I mean, we cannot possibly impose. Anyway, my fees don’t come close to covering what we need for the dowry.”
“Actually.” James’s expression was thunderous as he glared at Lavinia, but when his eyes met Georgiana’s, they softened with something that made her breath catch. “I have a proposition.”
Knowing what he was about to say, Georgiana bit back tears. “James, no. It’s too much.”
“I’ll cover your mother’s debt to Mr. Craven,” James said, ignoring her protest. “So that you may keep the dowry you sacrificed your home for.” He directed a pointed look at Lavinia, which had little effect. “And I’ll sponsor Cecily’s Season in London. All expenses—gowns, parties, everything she needs. Including her dowry, so that Georgie will not have to worry so much about the future.”
The world seemed to stop spinning. Georgiana stared at him, unable to process what he’d just said.
“James, we can’t accept such generosity.”
“We most certainly cannot,” Cecily said.
“You can, and you will.” His voice brooked no argument. “Consider it an investment in having the finest staff at Ashford Manor. Your work here has changed my life. It has meant everything to me.”
Lavinia clapped her hands together. “Oh, how marvelous! I knew everything would work out perfectly. Lord Ashford, you are truly a gentleman of the highest order.”
But Georgiana barely heard her mother’s exclamations. She was drowning in James’s steady gaze, in the certainty she saw there, in the way he was looking at her as if she mattered more than propriety or money or any of it.
“This is far too much,” she said softly.
“It’s exactly what’s needed.” His gaze never left her face. “And it’s my pleasure to provide it.”
The look that passed between them sent heat spiraling through her chest—gratitude and longing and desire. Something that had nothing to do with charity and everything to do with the way his voice had roughened when he said her work meant everything to him.
Cecily had tears streaming down her face. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you both.”
But Georgiana couldn’t look away from James. In his eyes, she saw not pity but something that looked terrifyingly like the feelings growing in her own heart. Good God, it was true. She was completely, irrevocably in love with him.
And for one breathless moment, she thought she saw the same revelation reflected back at her.
Chapter Eleven
James
The next morning,James followed the aromas of toasted bread and sizzling ham downstairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Honeycutt bustled past with a tray of perfectly boiled eggs, while Cecily poured tea. The atmosphere felt lighter somehow, as if a weight had been lifted from the household.
