For the bees’ part, they circled overhead a few times and then returned to the hive.
“Good,” Grandmama said with a solemn nod. “Then when it is my time, your husband may accompany you to share the news.”
Georgie opened her mouth to protest, but one look from her grandmother quelled her.
“Now let us go in,” the old woman said with a thump of her cane. “I don’t know about you, but I have been looking forward to my own piece of wedding cake.”
Georgie took in a rather shuddery breath and prepared to face a swarm of Packhams. She could already see the younger members crowded by the back windows waiting for her.
“May we say hello, too?” she heard behind her.
She turned to see her grandmother considering the two little girls now holding hands with each other. Georgie knew how frightening her grandmother could be. Lord knows the old woman could ruthlessly crush the pretensions of the unworthy on a ballroom floor and sway the vote of an MP with a single raised eyebrow.
But young Sophie stood straight and tall before her, and never even flinched when Grandmama stepped her way, the thump of her cane a statement. Georgie ached with pride.
“Both of you?” the dowager asked, looking from Sophie to Amelia, who was looking to her big sister for direction.
“Yes, please,” Sophie said in her best grown-up voice, even though Georgie could hear the faint tremor. Amelia just nodded, making the pink ribbons in her hair bounce.
Georgie also felt Grey instinctively move toward the girls. One squeeze of his hand held him still. She looked over at him and gave a surreptitious wink. She had grown up around the dowager, after all, and knew that little girls were never her targets.
After a moment’s consideration, the old woman passed off her cane to Georgie and held out her hands. Amelia gave Sophiea glance and then both girls advanced to accept the invitation. Georgie realized she was beaming.
“My friends,” Grandmama said to the hives, “I also have some new friends I would like you to know. And they wish to know you. This is Lady Sophie Greyville—make your curtsy, child.” Sophie gave a very credible curtsy. “And this is Lady Amelia Greyville.”
Amelia’s curtsy was a bit more wobbly, but her smile was huge. “Hello, bees,” she sang. “Will you be our friends?”
And as if they all expected an answer, everyone turned back to the hives. There seemed to be a pause, and then, quite wonderfully, a swarm of bees came to swirl over the girls’ heads. And rather than be afraid, Sophie and Amelia giggled up at them in delight.
The dance was done, the bees returned to the hives, and Georgie felt Grey relax beside her.
“Amazing.”
She grinned. “It is, isn’t it? But now I think you need some champagne.”
Letting go of her hand, Grey turned to the girls. “I believe a thank you is in order, young ladies. I suspect you have been given a great honor.”
“Indeed, you have,” Georgie assured them. “When my brother Michael tried to introduce himself, he was stung on the head. But he wasn’t nearly as polite as you girls.”
“He was a beast,” Charlie assured them. “But no worse than my brother Gabe.”
“Or Rafe,” Eddie agreed.
“Thank you, bees,” Sophie sang out as both girls offered another curtsy. “We are most honored.”
“We like you,” Amelia assured them, then turned to her uncle.
“You were very polite too, Uncle Grey,” she assured him. “But you need to bow.”
His grin was sudden and bright, doing strange things to Georgie’s heart.
“You are correct, of course,” he said.
Turning, he gave the hives his best court bow. Everyone else curtsied, and then it was time to celebrate.
“I must admit,” he said as he watched the girls scamper after the dowager toward the house, “I have attended quite a few weddings. One in a gypsy camp and another under artillery fire. I still believe mine own is the most unique of them all.”
Georgie meant to follow everyone in. Suddenly, though, she couldn’t move. Her chest felt so tight, as if acid were being squeezed into her lungs. It was the bees, she realized. She had actually suspected that they would react badly to the news, refusing to fly or attacking her for being foolish and unwise and asking for sorrow with her commitment. But the bees buzzed happily on, courting the flowers like hesitant swains and filling the soft spring day with music. Which should have made Georgie feel better. Which did, in one way. She was taking the first step in creating a lasting marriage. She loved those little girls, and she liked and respected Grey. Which in any other marriage would have been the answer to a prayer.
