“I am sure that is the case, Milly,” she smiled gently in return. “In the meantime, this is perfectly fine.”
She had noticed a gentleman patiently waiting for a break in their conversation. It was the man Amelia had danced with prior to the last dance. Georgia nudged her cousin and discreetly nodded in his direction.
“That is Michael Hawkley, son of Sir Phillip Hawkley, the noted Parliamentarian,” Amelia whispered by her ear. “His eyes are the color of the sky, and he dances as though his feet do not touch the floor!”
“Then let him whisk you away,” Georgia said with a secret smile. “I shall amuse myself with the curiosities of this remarkable building in the meanwhile, and let the young man ask you to dance.”
She glided away, glancing back once to ensure that the young gentleman had taken his opportunity, and the two were shyly smiling and talking. She looked to where Aunt Clarissa and Uncle Benjamin had been standing but no longer saw them. Then, a steel pincer closed over her upper arm.
“You do well not to crowd our daughter, though we have noted the bad habits you are teaching her,” Aunt Clarissa hissed with a thin smile that would have looked friendly to any who could not see the pinching grip she had on Georgia's arm.
“I do my best to undo bad habits, and I would not dream of interfering,” Georgia said back politely.
Aunt Clarissa released her grip and looked across the room.
“It is also well you have had no offers to dance but one. Lord Emsworth has arrived, and I would not have him put off by the sight of you with another man.”
Georgia felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. The evening had been pleasant thus far, even fun. Now, that was coming to an end. She looked in the same direction as her Aunt and saw a tall, bald man with a hooked nose and bushy eyebrows that seemed to be trying to compensate for the lack of hair on his head. He stood with chin raised as though scenting something unpleasant. Uncle Benjamin was talking to him, simpering and laughing with exaggerated loudness at every utterance.
As she stood there, Lord Emsworth glanced at her. She felt his eyes roam her body from head to toe. It was like being doused in oil. She looked away as a surreptitious smile broke across the Earl's face.
“You will come with me to be introduced to Lord Emsworth,” Aunt Clarissa uttered from behind her fan.
“Actually, I must be excused for a moment,” Georgia burst with a positively keen smile.
“Excused? He has come here specifically to meet you, and both your Uncle and I have worked hard to secure this match. You will, at the very least, show him the courtesy of speaking to him.”
“Which is perfectly acceptable, it is just that I'm afraid I have had altogether too much punch,Lady Silverton. I must be excused, but I will return momentarily.”
Aunt Clarissa tsked in annoyance. “Another uncouth habit I must strip from Amelia. Go then, but be quick about it.”
The older lady donned an ingratiating smile and moved away towards her husband and the Earl of Emsworth. Georgia had no idea in which direction the facilities lay, but instead moved to where the crowds were thickest, seeking to hide herself for just a little while. Perhaps the Earl would tire of waiting, and she would be able to postpone being in his company for another evening.
Another dance soon commenced, and the crowd around the room's edges thinned as ladies and gentlemen took their places. Georgia spotted a stone pillar ahead, wide enough to shelter her while she gauged where her Aunt and Uncle were. She moved into its protective shadow and then turned to peer back around it. They were not where they had been, and she could not see them anywhere.
Then she spotted Uncle Benjamin standing where she had left Amelia, looking around and clearly searching. She began to move backwards behind the pillar, putting it between her andher Uncle. She heard the sound of a cane clacking against stone and then felt a hand on her shoulder.
Oh no! I am caught!
She whirled, expecting to see the leering face of the Earl of Emsworth. But the man who stood before her was someone she had never seen before. His hair was fair, hanging down to his shoulders and framing a strong, noble face. His eyes were pale grey, flecked with green. He might have been a poet or an artist for the sensitivity of those eyes.
Or a barbarian prince for the austere cruelty of his face.
It was the face of a statue carved by a master. Beautiful but hard and unyielding.
In the exchange that followed, he convinced Georgia that he was an arrogant and thoroughly objectionable man.Impudentandaggressivewere the politest adjectives she could think of.
Eventually, she was firmly closing the door on him, suppressing a twinge of guilt at leaving a blind man to find his way alone.
If he needed help, he could have asked instead of behaving in such a beastly manner!
“Ah. At last, we meet,” a voice rumbled from just behind her shoulder.
So taken had Georgia been with the rudeness of the Duke of Westvale that she had quite forgotten the circumstances that had led her to bump into him in the first place. Forgotten who she had been trying to hide from. Now, she whirled with a gasp and took an involuntary step back.
Emsworth had deep creases in his features and cold blue eyes. His face was cruel but not in the same way as the Duke of Westvale’s austere charm.Hiscoldness was one that invited an attempt to thaw him. Emsworth’s coldness was… repellent.
“I must admit that when Silverton proposed you to me, I was not sure. He was trying altogether too hard to sell you to me. After all, what do I want with an old maid who has been left on the shelf? But now that I see you up close? Well, you would be a trophy indeed.”
