“Yes, you’re correct,” Georgiana said. “But regardless, I need a brandy.”
This set them all laughing, breaking the tension.
“Whatever comes our way, we shall face it together,” James said as he headed to the liquor cabinet to pour them all a drink.
*
Georgiana’s heart gavea strange little flutter at the sight of the gowns displayed on dress forms at the far end of the room. Gowns made for her. After a year of mourning, wearing black and dark gray, it was surprising how charmed she was by the thought of dressing for fashion instead of function. Not that anyone would be looking at her. Cecily would shine too brightly for that. As she should.
Georgiana stepped forward to take in what the talented seamstress had made for her. The day dresses were modest but elegant, in soft grays and pale mauves made of fine muslin and dimity. For evening, there were two gowns: one in dove gray silk with a silver underskirt and pale blue sash, and the other in iris-colored satin, high-waisted with embroidered sleeves and a delicate lace collar.
She touched the fabric of the iris gown, her fingers trembling slightly. The color reminded her of the wild irises that grew in the local meadows. Her throat tightened. It was the first truly beautiful thing she’d worn in years. Half-mourning, but hopeful.
Would James think she looked nice in it?
Never mind that.
Miss Rebecca Thorne, the village seamstress, stepped forward with pins tucked into her cuff, and helped her to step into the iris dress. “Up you go. I need to pin the hem.”
Georgiana stepped onto the platform in front of the mirror. “It’s beautiful, Miss Rebecca.”
“You’re beautiful, Mrs. Fairfax, and would look good in anything. But I’m so glad you like it.”
Georgiana’s fair hair was a wonderful contrast to the dark gown. And the purple brought out her light blue eyes, making them appearalmost lavender. She’d not felt so lovely in a long time.
Cecily emerged from the fitting screen glowing in a primrose-yellow muslin with delicate white embroidery and puffed sleeves. “Georgie, look.” She spun in a circle. “It’s like sunlight.”
Georgiana’s chest swelled with both pride and a surprising pang of longing. Had she ever been so fresh, so untouched by life’s complications? Cecily’s innocent delight was everything Georgiana had hoped to preserve by giving her a Season. A chance for a good marriage. And now she would have it, thanks to James Ashford. Their guardian angel.
“Oh, Georgie, how exquisite you are.” Cecily brought her hands to her mouth. “You look like a queen.”
“Are we sure about the color?” Lavinia asked from the other end of the shop as she stepped out from the fitting screen. “Her skin’s awfully pale next to the purple.”
“I disagree, Mother,” Cecily said. “She’s stunning.”
“’Tis a pity, really,” Lavinia said. “That she refused to use it to her advantage.”
The younger women ignored her, focusing next on Cecily’s gowns. They were showstoppers. One in soft sea-foam green tulle, layered over satin, with a floral appliqué along the bodice. The second was rose-pink silk, simple and stunning, cut to flatter her every movement.
She would turn heads. Georgiana was sure of it and suddenly terrified of what that meant. How would she get along without her little sister by her side? Everything was about to change. For the better, of course. For Cecily anyway. But her marriage would leave Georgiana alone, other than Lavinia, whom she feared she would never get rid of.
Lavinia had ordered four gowns in total: a crimson satin with jet beads, an overly dramatic lilac trimmed in ostrich feathers, a navy with pearl-studded sleeves, and a walking suit in plaid that Georgiana couldn’t look at too long without blinking.
“I shall wear the crimson to the first ball,” Lavinia declared,examining herself in the mirror. “Nothing too festive, of course. Just something quietly commanding.”
“Quietly,” Cecily whispered to Georgiana, “like a cannon.”
Georgiana bit her lip to hide a smile.
The room bustled with fittings, hem measurements, lace trims, and last-minute sleeve adjustments. But beneath it all, Georgiana felt a steady pressure building. Each stitch, each pin, was one step closer to London. She didn’t feel ready to leave the safe cocoon of Ashford Manor, where she felt useful and respected.
She couldn’t bear to think of ever parting from James. But she must face the truth. The restoration would be done by the end of July. Ben was to stay and supervise the rest of the restoration, with her and James coming from London every week or so to see that progress was being made. And he would have no more use for her.
At least they would have a few more months together.
Then, an awful thought occurred to her. What if James met a woman he wanted to marry? She had no doubt the mamas of thetonwould overlook his scandalous past in exchange for his handsome fortune and face.
The two people she loved most in the world would leave her alone with her mother.
