“Iamcapable of warmth.”
“Prove it.” She stepped back, creating distance between them. “Go. And try not to terrify the poor woman.”
Edward straightened his coat and made his way toward Lady Georgiana. The group of young women parted as he approached, their eyes widening, their fans fluttering.
Lady Georgiana curtsied with practiced grace. “Your Grace.” Her voice was soft, melodic, and pleasant. “What an honor.”
“Lady Georgiana.” He bowed. “I understand you do charitable work with the Foundling Hospital.”
Her face brightened. “Yes, I visit every Tuesday. The children there are so deserving of kindness. I read to them and help with their lessons when I can.”
“Commendable.”
Silence stretched between them. Lady Georgiana’s smile remained fixed, waiting. Edward searched his mind for something to say and found it distressingly empty.
“And you enjoy music?”
“Oh, yes.” She clasped her hands together. “I play the pianoforte and the harp. Do you play, Your Grace?”
“No.”
Another silence. Lady Georgiana’s smile faltered at the edges.
“Perhaps you enjoy listening?” she ventured.
“On occasion.”
The young women behind Lady Georgiana exchanged glances. One of them coughed. Lady Georgiana’s cheeks flushed pink, and she glanced toward the musicians as if hoping they might rescue her.
Edward knew he was failing. He could feel Lady Sophia’s gaze on his back, burning with judgment. He tried to remember her instructions. Ask questions. Listen to the answers. Pretend to be human.
“You have traveled abroad, I hear.”
“Yes, to Italy.” Lady Georgiana’s enthusiasm returned. “Florence was magnificent. The art, the architecture, the history. Have you been, Your Grace?”
“Once. For business.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “Business. How… practical.”
The conversation limped onward like a wounded animal. Lady Georgiana gamely tried to steer them toward topics of mutual interest, but each attempt ran aground on the rocks of Edward’s monosyllabic responses. He watched her enthusiasm drain away, replaced by the polite mask of a woman counting the seconds until she could escape.
He did not blame her.
When the musicians struck up the first notes of a country dance, Lady Georgiana seized the opportunity with visible relief.
“Oh, the dancing has begun. I promised Lord Fenwick the first set. Please excuse me, Your Grace.” She curtsied and fled.
Edward watched her go. Lord Fenwick, a cheerful young man with an unfortunate nose, greeted her with the genuine smile Edward had apparently lost the ability to produce. They took their places in the line, and within moments, Lady Georgiana was laughing at something he said.
Laughing. At the man with the unfortunate nose.
Edward retreated to the alcove, where Lady Sophia waited with an expression that suggested she had witnessed every excruciating moment.
“Practical?” Her voice dripped with disbelief. “She told you about the glories of Florence, and you responded with ‘practical’?”
“It was a business trip.”
“You could have mentioned the Duomo. The Uffizi. The Ponte Vecchio. Anything that suggested you have a soul.”
