By the time the first carriages appeared on the drive the following day, George had already adopted the expression expected of him. He stood at the bottom of the steps as guests were announced, acknowledging each arrival.
“Lord and Lady Harcourt,” the footman announced.
George nodded, thinking of how his sister would be delighted and his grandmother would be furious.
“You are most welcome to Sherton.”
They smiled, impressed as he anticipated. The rhythm settled quickly. He smiled politely, but nothing more, for a duke was not meant to appear eager for approval.
Then Lady Cassandra arrived. He felt it before he saw her, some subtle disturbance. She descended from the carriage with more grace than she usually possessed. She did not look toward him immediately, and so George waited.
When she finally met his gaze, there was no softness there, and when he offered his arm she took it. As they ascended the steps together, he was acutely conscious of how close she was to him. She was light on his arm, warm beneath her gown. He wished that he had not noticed it, for it was more of a distraction than he ever could have anticipated.
He released her the moment etiquette allowed.
Inside, the house filled quickly. Philippa hovered near the doorway of the drawing room, hands clasped, clearly uncertain where to stand. George had expected it, for though she was excited, her nerves always got the best of her.
Lady Cassandra noticed at once, and she crossed the room without hesitation.
“You must be Lady Philippa,” she said.
Philippa startled, then smiled.
“Yes. And you are Lady Cassandra. Or I suppose I should say– oh, I–”
“Cassandra,” she said quickly. “If you do not mind.”
Philippa’s eyes lit up. It was all of the acceptance she needed.
“I should like that very much.”
George watched from across the room, glass untouched in his hand.
“I am very glad you are here,” Philippa continued. “I was afraid you might find all this overwhelming.”
Cassandra laughed softly.
“I assure you, I am very familiar with that sensation.”
“I am not very good with crowds.”
“Neither am I,” Cassandra replied. “People expect things when they are watching.”
“Exactly! My brother says that there is nothing to worry about, but we ladies know better than that.”
George frowned. He moved closer in order to greet another guest, but his attention remained fixed on them.
“You play the violin, do you not?” Philippa asked shyly.
“I do,” Cassandra said. “Only, I prefer not to perform.”
“Oh! I did not mean to suggest–”
“It is quite all right,” Cassandra said gently. “Once, I fainted in the middle of a performance. Another time, I played the same passage three times before realizing I had lost my place. Once that happens enough times, one prefers to keep her talents to herself.”
“Did that truly happen?”
“It truly did,” Cassandra said. “And everyone pretended not to notice, which was far worse.”
