She sanded and sealed the letter, then rang for a footman. As soon as he arrived, she handed him the missive. “Please take this to my grandmother immediately. She is waiting for it.”
The servant bowed. “I’ll go straight away, Miss Featherton.”
She wrung her hands. Now, how to spend the next several hours? They were bound to be agonizing. She went to her dressing room where she found her maid. “Smith, we are leaving for several weeks”—no matter if she went to Adeline’s or north, the trip would take at least that long—“I anticipate we will leave tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yes, Miss Georgie. Her ladyship’s maid is packing as we speak.”
“We might not be traveling with my parents. It is possible we will visit Lady Littleton.”
Smith was silent for a second. “Then I’ll wait to pack your warmer clothing until we know which way we’re going.”
“Thank you.” Yorkshire was always much colder than Surrey, where there would be no need to take heavy woolens. “I am going to Merton House to see Miss Stern and then to Exeter House.”
“I’ll have most of the packing done by the time you return. I take it that you will not attend the ball this evening?”
Lord Turley was certain to be there, and because of that Georgie did not wish to attend. “I’d forgotten all about it. You had better ask my mother’s maid. She will know better than I.”
“Very well, miss. I’ll do that.”
Smith handed Georgie her gloves. After she donned them, her maid helped her into her mantel and put her hat on her head, affixing it with a large hatpin.
A knock came on her door, and the footman she had sent with the letter said, “It’s done, Miss Featherton.”
“Thank you. Do you have any other duties or are you free to accompany me on some errands?”
The servant straightened his shoulders. “Mr. Benson assigned me to assist you today.”
Thank Heaven for their butler’s perspicacity. “What is your name?”
“It’s Henley, miss.”
“Well then, Henley, let us be off.”
He held the door open, and she went through feeling like a ship under full sail. “We shall visit Merton House first.” It was likely she would find Henrietta and Dorie together. “If necessary we shall go to Exeter House afterward.”
The black cloud that had hovered over Georgie lifted and hope that she and Turley would eventually be together rose. After all, Grandmamma and the duchess had taken matters in hand.
* * *
She rejected me!
It had never occurred to him that was even a possibility.
Gavin stared at the open door of the small drawing room. He should have told Georgie what she wanted to hear. In fact a lie had risen to his lips, but there it froze. It had taken several seconds before he was able to open his mouth. Even then, he could not utter a word. The look in her lapis eyes as she had waited for him to answer made him feel like the veriest cad. She had been happy to have him propose. He saw it in her face when she’d entered the room. Then he’d gone and spoilt everything.
Blast it all.
Why the devil had he knelt? If he’d been standing, he could have pulled her into his arms and distracted her from her concerns.
A hole had opened in his stomach. And before he had been able to form an argument, Georgie had turned on her heel and strode gracefully out of the parlor. If he forgot about her eyes, the only sign she was under distress was the invisible iron rod that appeared to be holding her spine erect.
Bloody hellhounds!
He’d practiced his proposal until he’d got all the words right. He’d even gone down on one knee—that had been anything but helpful. Reminded of his position, he rose. Not an hour before he’d received permission from her father to address her. He had carefully set forth to her all the advantages of being Viscountess Turley and reminded her how much they had in common and that they enjoyed each other’s company.
Gavin raked his fingers through his perfectly brushed hair. A motion he’d seen other men make, but for which he had never understood the reason. Until now. His valet was going to be “very disappointed.” Although the man would never say the words.
Why the devil did love matter so much? His sister had insisted on it before she’d married. Well actually—now that Gavin thought of it—she hadn’t demanded to hear the words and had, subsequently, made poor Harrington’s life hell until he’d uttered them. Even Dorie Exeter, a vastly sensible lady, had wanted a love match. Last Season, Gavin had pitied Exeter having to go through working out how he felt. A trickle of dread crept up Gavin’s neck. No man should have to expose his inner self so. He straightened his jacket and sleeves.
