“You shall have to find another way. Toole!”
Gabriel gritted his teeth. His jaw tensed. “Why not?”
I stared hard at him. He did not truly wish to know what I thought. Not even Cleo could calmthatrage.
“One last loan,” he pleaded. By the look on his face, for once it actually cost what was left of his pride to beg.
Toole popped his head back through the door. “Your Grace, you are needed in the drawing room urgently. Her Grace insists.”
I rubbed my face with both hands. “I am not available for calls. Please take Mr. Brennan instead.”
Gabriel frowned.
“She insists, Your Grace.” Toole stepped back, holding the door open.
Which was worse—Gabriel’s begging or Mother’s urgent-but-not-truly-urgent request? I had no time nor patience for either. But I would rather not add my mother’s wrath to my already suffocating day. Both fists thudded on my desk, and I pushed up to rise. Cleo bounded from the room. A quick moment was all I could spare.
“Marlow.” Gabriel started to follow. “What do you say?”
“Now is not the time, Cousin.”
“It has to be, or I will lose this opportunity. Please.”
I waved him off with a hand, striding around the corner and all the way down to the drawing room, where the double doors were open fully.
“There he is!” Mother had been watching for me. She did not look particularly bothered, but she was an expert at hiding her feelings. She had taught me well.
Georgiana sat between her and Maggie on the settee wearing a faded green muslin. Blonde curls pinned high atop her head, and that same Society smile turning her lips. I’d onlyknown her for a short time, and yet, I could already see it on her face—careful stoicism. The rigid way she sat. Something was indeed amiss.
“Good afternoon,” I greeted them.
Lady Jersey and her sister-in-law sat opposite them, eyeing me with clear interest. “Lady Jersey. Mrs. Marcus. How are your families?” We’d seen them briefly last evening, and I wondered what had prompted them to come. Georgiana, perhaps?
“All well, thank you, Your Grace.” Lady Jersey looked back to Georgiana and Mother. “But we are eager to hear more about yours.” Both women seemed keen to engage her in conversation.
But my mother was unusually reticent. “Sit, Your Grace. Join us for tea, won’t you?”
“I have a meeting in half an hour.”
“Sit.” The only indication my mother gave of the serious nature of her intentions was the slightest tremor in her throat. So, I obliged her. I took the oversized chair beside her settee.
Georgiana took an empty teacup from the cart. “May I?” she asked, and I grunted my approval as I started to fill a plate. Small sandwiches with ham and cheese, early strawberries from the hothouse, and cakes. “Sugar?” she asked.
“No,” I replied, taking the cup from her. I liked my tea with just a dash of cream. I helped myself, and my mother frowned. I supposed I was acting a bit the heathen. “Thank you.”
Georgiana lifted her teacup to her lips to hide what I imagined was a laugh at my frustration.
She looked different. Brighter. Was it her hair? A new facecream or rouge? I could not account for the change, and it bothered me to distraction. Something about her was sofamiliarnow.
And I rather liked watching the crease on her cheeks appear when she smiled.
Maggie cleared her throat and drew my attention. She stared hard at me and widened her eyes with an obviousAre you unwell?as she’d done a hundred times when I was in a particular mood. It meant,You are acting strange. Be pleasant.
I did my best to oblige by frowning less.
“The Waymonts’ party was a success, was it not?” Lady Jersey asked the room. The women murmured varying degrees of agreement. “Your Grace?”
“Very diverting,” I added, taking a bite of sandwich. I hadn’t eaten since early morning, and fencing had sparked an appetite in me.
