Georgie’s breath hitched at the sight of him. Heavens, but he was a vision…just as beautiful as she’d always remembered, and somehow even more dashing than when they’d first met in the garden earlier today.
His gaze swept over the room, temporarily resting on her. She felt his surprise like a slap, before her body ran hot with embarrassment.
What must he think of her?
Of course, he’d made it perfectly clear what he’d thought this afternoon in the garden.
Was it solace that he’d been cutting with her? At the time, no. But now, she ran toward that pain to steady herself.
His gaze settled on Miss Morehouse, and he walked to her, and accepting her hand, gave it a chaste kiss.
Realizing she was staring, she turned her attention back to the other gentlemen, one of whom, she reminded herself, she would marry. One by one they came forward. None were as handsome as Tom, but that had not been her primary requirement.
As she was considering the crowd, Mrs. Dove-Lyon approached her with a gentleman on her arm.
“Lady Georgiana,” she began, gesturing to the man beside her, “allow me to introduce Mr. John Osbourne. Mr. Osbourne is the third son of the Earl of Penford.”
Of average height, Mr. Osbourne had wavy dark-brown hair, dark eyes, and an amiable countenance. As the third son of the Earl of Penford, Georgie guessed that meant that despite that pleasant smile, he was looking for something to live on. Which was fine. She had a respectable dowry, and Mr. Osbournewas not thrice her age nor looked to have a particularly dour disposition.
Mr. Osbourne bowed smartly.
“Lady Georgiana,” he said. “I am honored. If I may, descriptions of your beauty pale compared to seeing you in person.”
“Thank you, Mr. Osbourne,” she said. “You flatter me.”
“Not at all,” he said. “I am surprised you have not come down for a season. Or perhaps I should be grateful. You would have been snapped up so quickly, and I wouldn’t have this opportunity.”
Georgie forced a smile at the awkward compliment. If Mr. Osbourne was as nervous as she, his words might not frame themselves as well as they might.
It took several moments for all the gentlemen to be announced, and while Mr. Osbourne engaged Georgie well enough in conversation, the sound of Tom’s voice as he conversed easily with Miss Morehouse and Miss Fairfax seemed to deaden the sound of everything else in the room. It took all of her concentration to stay focused on Mr. Osbourne, who’d brought her a glass of wine.
Once dinner had begun—a sumptuous meal with several courses expertly prepared—Georgie was able to relax just a little. Through some stroke of luck, she and Tom were seated along the same side of the table, and far enough apart that it was not easy to converse or even see each other without deliberate effort to do so. Not that there wasn’t a moment or two when she swore she felt his gaze on her. Her entire body seemed to be aware of him, and she wondered if he had the same sensation.
Probably only as one is aware of a pebble in one’s shoe. She could hear the low tones of his laughter, rich and warm, and it took all of her manners to stay focused on Mr. Osbourne who,once introduced to her, had stuck to Georgie’s side like a bit of burdock in late summer.
“Do you like horses, Lady Georgiana?” Mr. Osbourne asked between sips of white soup.
“I have a horse I enjoy riding,” she said, and while she like the beast, she would hardly call herself an enthusiast. “And I enjoy riding along our estate.”
He nodded. “Your family home is Whetherby, is it not?”
“You are correct, sir.”
“Is it true what they say about Whetherby?” he asked.
Georgiana pasted a smile on her face. She knew what was coming. “Pray, I don’t know what you speak of.”
“That it is cursed,” he said. “Or at least, has had a staggering run of bad luck.”
“No more or less than any other place,” she said, a little defensively. Plenty of estates suffered from similar woes. It was the reason why some of these men were here—and indeed, why Miss Fairfax’s trade wealth would be seen as an opportunity for a man with enough practicality to value her money over her lack of connections.
Still, Mr. Osbourne was not wrong. There had been years of crop failures. The estate was aging, and the repairs seemed to outstrip Papa’s ability to keep up with them. The constant strain of waiting for the next disaster that seemed to come without warning but with a disturbing sense of regularity had taxed the entire family. Throughout her life, Georgie had sensed that pressure and had spent her life trying to be the one thing her father didn’t have to worry about. The one aspect of his life he could rely on. What on earth would Papa think of her now?
She took a sip of her wine, swallowing down her guilt.
“I apologize if I have offended you,” he said, before taking another spoonful of soup.
“Not at all,” she replied, shaking off her ill mood. “I am a little protective of it, that is all.”
