Her eyes landed on the infant in Georgie’s lap and she gasped. “Oh, my darling boy! Is he not the most divine creature on God’s earth? And we shall haveanothervery soon!” She clapped her hands together. “A house full of babies! What could be more joyful?”
“An estate full of liquor?” Lottie muttered, wishing for another drink to dull the ache in her forehead.
Lady Tolliver chose not to hear her, or perhaps, wisely, pretended as much. “And you, dearest Lottie,” she said, gliding across the room, “must accept that marriage is inevitable. It shall come, whether you like it or not—and truly, you could do far worse than Mr Deverell. Oh yes, darling, I know everything. There is little in this house that escapes your Mama. I do not even mind that he is a dreadful rake.”
“Mama,” Lottie groaned.
“Reformed rakes make the verybesthusbands,” Hetty declared airily, sipping her tea. “Theo was an utter disgrace before I took him in hand.”
“I rather think it was Theo who tamedyou, Hetty,” Georgie said, raising a brow.
Hetty waved her off with regal indifference. “That is quite beside the point.”
“Reformed rakes,” Mari said dryly, “make the best husbands in the same way that floods make excellent landscape architects. It all looks dramatic after, but at what cost?”
Lottie made a strangled sound and buried her face in her hands.
Georgie, clearly enjoying herself far too much, bounced the baby again and said, “Mr Deverell’s father, the Earl of Bellston, is nearing seventy, spends half the year abroad for his lungs—or in the company of a Scottish countess, depending upon which footman one chooses to believe—and possesses a very handsome estate in Kent. Did you know that, Lottie? Jasper is heir to the title, the principal estate, the London house, a dower house large enough to require its own parish, and an income sufficient to keep six mistresses, though naturally we shall encourage economy and hope he limits himself to one wife.”
Lottie groaned again. “What more could any woman ask of holy matrimony? Never mind that Mr Deverell is vain, irreverent, fond of wagers, entirely too handsome for anyone’s good, incapable of silence, morally slippery, and once set his waistcoat alight merely to escape a dinner engagement!”
Nell gasped. “Did he truly?”
“No,” Lottie admitted. “But I should not be surprised in the least.”
“Ah,” said Hetty with a slow smile, “but you did not say you did notwishto marry him. You merely offered a rather passionate and unusually detailed list of reasons why youought notto. Which, in my experience, is rather more telling.”
“I should like to leave this family immediately,” Lottie said, muffled behind her hands. “Where does one apply for replacement siblings?”
“We are quite irreplaceable,” said Georgie, patting her hand with far too much sympathy to be sincere. “Much like Mr Deverell, it seems.”
Lady Tolliver beamed at the prospect of impending matrimony. “Your sister is always correct when it comes to such matters, my dear. How else do you imagine she managed to ensnare a duke?”
“Quite by accident,” Lottie murmured under her breath.
“But nevertheless,” Lady Tolliver pressed on, heedless, “one must strike whilst the Season is still fresh. It needn’t be next week, of course, but truly, Mr Deverell is a very fine match. NowGeorgiana, do stop hoarding that child and hand little Henry to his grandmama. You are being quite a hog.”
Georgie sighed. “Very well, Mama. Try not to let him chew on your necklace again.”
Lady Tolliver took the child into her arms. “Oh,lookat him! His dear little fingers! And his darling ears! I do believe he has your father’s brow andmycheekbones. Such a cherub! I could gaze upon him forever.”
“Yes, Mama,” Hetty said, dry as a winter biscuit. “And you often do.”
Georgie was not to be diverted. She turned back to Lottie, her expression all quiet command. “Now, listen to me carefully. Hetty and I have come to an agreement.”
“Oh, splendid,” Lottie muttered. “That always bodes well.”
Georgie continued as though she had not heard. “Lady Malverne’s annual house party is confirmed for next week. The invitations have been issued and the weather promises to be fair.”
Lottie raised a brow. “That would be the same party at which I disappeared into the rose garden with Gainsford and drank a bottle of claret, was it not?”
“Therealscandal, as I recall, was the duke and I,“ Georgie said primly. “Which ended in marriage and was therefore entirely respectable.”
“The point,” said Hetty, in her best eldest-sister voice, “is that you shall attend. You shall wear something flattering but not provocative, and you shall dance no fewer than three times with eligible gentlemen, and you shallnotvanish into any shrubbery.”
“And you shall,” Georgie added, “either secure a proposal from Mr Deverell or attract one from another suitable gentleman. It matters not which. Whatdoesmatter is that by the end of this Season, you shall be betrothed.”
“There is no longer any choice,” Hetty said firmly. “The family can tolerate only so many near-scandals before someone ends up memorialised in theGazette.”
