Even though Georgie never blushed, she was certain she was fire engine red. “Love? Who said anything about love? Grandmama, I have barely known him a week.”
“But there is attraction.”
“I wouldn’t….”
Grandmama gave her quite a look, her one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Child, please do not try to convince me nothing happened out on that balcony.”
Georgie ducked her head, her body remembering all too well what had happened on that balcony.
“For now,” her grandmother gently informed her, “attraction will suffice. He is a good man. You are the best of my grandchildren—” Chuckling, she leaned closer. “Although try not to let any of them know.”
Even Georgie smiled at that. At one time or another grandmama had named every one of her grandchildren as favorites.
“Trust me on this, Georgianna. This will set the tone for your marriage.”
Georgie sighed. “I’m not quite sure I have the courage.”
Grandmama patted her hand. “Of course, you do. Because you will want too much to know. I will tell you this much, my sweet girl. A good man will see to your pleasure with his hands and mouth and oh, especially his arms, which can hold you up when you feel you have nothing left in you.”
Again, Georgie found herself stunned silent, clear images racing through her brain of Grey doing that very thing. “Grandmama,” she finally said with a sigh and a shake of her head, “you are a never-ending font of wisdom.”
Her grandmama just smiled and patted her hand. “It is what grandmamas are for. One final piece of wisdom. Do not allow him to leave you without assuring his own pleasure.”
Georgie managed to open her mouth but found she could think of nothing to say.
Her grandmother flashed the grin of a much younger woman and tapped Georgie’s cheek. “You may not know what is involved, but I assure you he does.”
“And it doesn’t involve…?”
“Not necessarily.” Another tap, and her grandmother pulled a key from her pocket. “Now. You still have time to tend to your area of the garden before you go. But before that—” Standing, she walked to the hives. “You need to tell the bees your news. Come.”
And Georgie followed her, walking slowly so as not to seem a threat to the hive. The buzzing was such a comforting sound, a hymn of contentment and industry. She loved the bees her Grandmama had introduced her to and cherished the privilege of being in their world.
As the owner of the property, Grandmama tapped the nearest hive with the house key, as she always did to announce herself. “We have news in our house, my friends,” she said, her voice almost as melodious as the bees. “Come listen.”
Georgie waited long enough to believe the bees might have paused in their endeavors to listen.
“I am to be married,” she said just as quietly, the words suddenly portentous. “His name is Peter Greyville, Lord Coleford. But I call him Grey. When the ceremony is done, I will return with him and a piece of the cake. All right?”
With the music of the bees in her ears, her grandmother’s hand holding hers, and the spring morning bursting with life around her, Georgie felt that this moment sealed her fate and future. She had told the bees. It must be real.
Now she just had to find a way not to lose herself to it.
10
Three days later she was standing back before the hives, this time holding Grey’s hand and bearing a piece of wedding cake. For all the anxiety over it, the wedding had turned out to be a bit of an anticlimax. Grey had obtained a special license that allowed them to marry right away at St. Mary Magdalene’s, her Grandmama’s home parish in Richmond, where it had been assumed there would be less notoriety. Not to mention the fact that Grandmama demanded it, stating she hadn’t the energy to deal with the fuss and bustle at the more fashionable St. George’s in Mayfair. Georgie’s mother had ruthlessly limited the invitations to only family, which was quite large enough to fill the homely brick church, even without Grey’s family who hadn’t the time to make it down from Tewkesbury.
Georgie had been relieved. She had never been one to long for a big wedding. Any wedding at all, truthfully. But under the circumstances a big celebration would have done no more than increase her feeling of panic. This way she hadn’t had to stand before the altar for more than a few minutes. She hadn’t even minded the few bystanders who had gathered on the street to seeher enter and leave the church in her cream dotted muslin dress, green spencer, and green-lined bonnet.
Charlie and Eddie stood up as her dual maids of honor, while Amelia and Sophie acted as official bridesmaids. Georgie had to admit that it had been a real joy to see those little girls so excited and awed by the whole thing, especially wearing the brand-new dresses Grey had bought for them in pale pink merino with a bit of Honiton lace. As for Grey, his friend Rob Glenn did the duty of standing up for him, both resplendent in the sharp scarlet and gold of the First Royal Dragoons.
And now, standing in Grandmama’s garden with the dowager in her regal purple, her lion-headed cane on one side, and the smartly uniformed Grey on the other, Georgie was faced with her next task. Her cousins stood behind her, as familiar and comfortable with the process as she, each holding the hand of a wide-eyed little girl, whom Georgie had instructed in the tradition while they sat beside her holdingherhands, just that morning, weaving their way more tightly into the fabric of her life. Making her feel at once more joyful and more cornered. Which made her even more frustrated because she should have been able to freely adore them.
Once again, Grandmama tapped on the first hive with her house key. “We have news in our house, my friends. Come listen.”
Tugging on Grey’s hand, Georgie brought him a step closer as she reached over and laid the cake at the base of the hive.
“As I promised, my friends. Here is my new husband Peter Greyville, Lord Coleford, whom I call Grey. Please say he is welcome in the family.”
