“You want to get that girl to do anything,” the aunt insisted, “you should leave her to me. Stubborn as a shrike.”
This time the Countess didn’t even speak. Just leveled a look on her twin that sent the woman bustling from the room.
“And please leave Georgie to herself,” Georgie’s mother suggested. “You know that hectoring doesn’t help.”
The only answer she got was a huff of impatience and the sharp click of the door.
“Preston, thank you,” the Countess said while smiling at Grey. “I’m sure Georgie can use your help about now.”
Grey admitted that he was startled. He’d forgotten the maid was still there. At least he knew where Lady Georgie got her unshakable air of command. Her mother had routed everyone with the dispatch of a seasoned general. And Grey suspected it was hard to do with that sister of hers.
Even as the servant gathered up her yarn and gave a quick bob in the general direction of the Countess on the way out the door, that august lady was giving Grey a quiet but thorough assessment.
“I suspect you have had quite a long enough day, my lord,” she said. “We certainly have. Embassy balls are more effort than they’re worth, I often think. Would it be better for you if we reconvene in the morning?”
Which was how Grey found himself back out on the walk wondering who the diplomat really was in that family. Nothing had been settled at all. Nothing except the fact that it wasn’tsettled. Although it would be easy to take Lady Clevedon’s parting words as a promise. “Georgie is no fool. She knows what her duty is.”
Not exactly the encouragement Grey had been hoping for. He was developing the very strong suspicion that the last thing he wanted from Georgie Packham was duty.
8
Georgie was not encouraged by the fact that her mother did not come to see her all night. It as a favorite tactic of her mother’s, delaying the confrontation in order to strain one’s nerves. Capitulation came much more easily that way.
She dressed carefully for breakfast, even resorting to a little rabbit’s foot to hide the ravages of a sleepless night. But it didn’t give her any confidence when she arrived at the breakfast table to find only her parents before her.
“Good morning, my dear,” her mother said, not looking up from the ubiquitous correspondence at her plate.
“Mother. Father.”
“I like him,” her father said with a definitive nod.
He didn’t say another word. Just got to his feet, gave both Georgie and her mother a kiss on the cheek, and walked out.
“Eleven o’clock,” her mother said at his leaving.
His only response was a wave of his hand that still held a piece of toast.
And then he was gone, and Georgie was left behind to once again envy him that freedom. What she wouldn’t give to simply walk out the front door without notifying half a dozen people,settling a half dozen more squabbles, answering staff questions, holding tearful toddlers, dragging a reluctant maid or footman along. Or facing a mother who had a terrible knack for getting what she wanted.
And here was her mother about to tell her that she was to exchange one household’s responsibilities for another, without ever having had time to do something merely for herself.
“I’m afraid you were rude last night, Georgianna.”
Ah, the punishment of disappointment. No matter what, it was familiar. It worked. Georgie felt as if she had worms crawling in her belly.
“I suspect Greyville will say he wasn’t surprised.”
“It still warrants an apology. And one to your father and your aunt.”
Maybe she could go back upstairs and come back down later when the dining table was empty. Of course, the food would also be gone, and if there was one thing Georgie couldn’t miss, it was a meal.
So, she stood to collect her eggs, bacon, and toast from the sideboard. “Of course, Mother.”
“Your young man will be here at eleven to speak to your father.”
More worms, these of dread. “I wish he wouldn’t.”
Her mother waited until Georgie had settled back in her seat. “Is there something we should know that would make him ineligible?”
