It was utterly foreign.
At home she’d been ignored at best, berated at worst. Here she was being treated like a princess.
It was…disorienting.
By the time she was dressed and her hair neatly pinned, she wasn’t entirely sure she recognized herself in the mirror.
“His lordship asked if you’d like to join him for breakfast,” Hester said.
“Breakfast,” Georgie echoed, a small smile popping to her lips. “I suppose I could do that.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The dining room was even grander than her bedchamber.
The walls were painted a warm ivory with gilded molding, and tall windows lined one side of the room, spilling sunlight over the gleaming table.
A glittering chandelier sparkled above her head, and the mahogany sideboard was stacked with gleaming silver platters and fine china.
Fresh flowers—white roses and lilacs—stood in a tall vase at the center of the table, and everything gleamed with quiet, understated wealth.
Pembroke stood as she entered, looking unfairly composed and devastating in his dark coat and perfectly tied cravat.
“Good morning, Lady Pembroke,” he said politely, inclining his head. The hint of a smile played around his firmly molded lips.
Ooh. The title (and the way he said it) sent a strange little twist through her stomach. That was the second time she’d been called Lady Pembroke today. She had best begin to get used to it.
“Good morning,” she murmured, taking the chair opposite her husband.
He sat again as the butler poured her tea and set out a selection of eggs, toast, fruit, and pastries in front of her.
She glanced intermittently at Jason as the quiet clink of silverware and the faint tick of the clock filled the silence between them.
She nibbled at her toast, painfully aware of how elegant and handsome he looked across the table—and how awkward she felt in her own skin. And for the first time, she began to think about—truly think about—everything that had taken place yesterday.
First, there was the undeniable fact that Jason was handsome. He always had been. Is that why she’d said yes to him yesterday? It had been nearly irresistible after all. Him yelling “enough” to quiet her family, him offering an ungodly sum of money to get her father to agree, him making all of them leave and demanding that she be the one to decide. While all the while, he’d looked unbearably good-looking and the memory of his kiss had played through her mind as if it was on a roundtable.
Then there was the simple case he’d made… “I can’t possibly be worse than Henderville,” he’d said. Beyond an understatement, of course, but perfectly true. Yesterday, it had made quite a lot of sense to her frightened, tired, frantic mind.
But there was more, wasn’t there? Additional reasons. Reasons she couldn’t think of at the moment. But valid ones, just the same. She bent her head and concentrated on pretending to eat her food.
After a while, Pembroke cleared his throat, setting down his fork. “I thought,” he began carefully, “that you might like to redecorate one of the wings of the house.”
Her head came up, startled. “I beg your pardon?”
“This place has more rooms than I know what to do with,” he continued evenly. “You may choose whichever suite you prefer and make it entirely your own. New wallpaper, furnishings—whatever you like.”
Her fingers tightened around her teacup.
Oh.
So that was it.
He was already planning to keep her tucked away in some corner of the house where she wouldn’t be in the way.
She forced a polite smile. “How…generous of you,” she murmured.
He tilted his head slightly, looking a bit puzzled by her tone, but said nothing. Instead, he returned to his meal.
