Charles led her through the entry hall and Georgie felt dread fill her steps at the thought of seeing Lord Ransdale again. She detested this man and how he made her feel: small, inferior, less than—all of that and more.
She stepped into the drawing room and saw Lord Ransdale standing by the window, looking bored. He had a narrow jaw, a slightly crooked nose, and his ears fanned out from his face.
He turned to face her and smiled, and her skin crawled in response. “Miss Holbrooke,” he said as he slid his gaze possessively up and down the length of her. “You look lovely.”
Knowing what was expected of her, she replied, “That is kind of you to say.”
Lord Ransdale approached and came to a stop in front of her. “You will discover that I value punctuality. I do not like to be kept waiting.”
Her brother interjected, “Georgie is usually very punctual. It is one of her greatest strengths.”
Georgie snuck a glance at her brother, wondering why he would say something so utterly ridiculous. Was Lord Ransdale insinuating that she, who’d come down with the master of the house, was late to her own dinner?
“I am glad to hear that,” Lord Ransdale said. “Without punctuality, we are no better than the animals.”
Her brother lowered his arm and stepped away from her. “Shall we adjourn to the dining room?”
“I think that is a splendid idea,” Georgie said. She would agree to anything if it meant speeding this evening up.
Lord Ransdale offered his arm and asked, “May I escort you?”
Georgie hesitated as she looked down at his arm. To refuse him would be rude, and she would be severely punished if she did so.
With great reluctance, she placed her hand on his and tried to ignore the sickly feeling that she felt in the pit of her stomach.
Lord Ransdale reached for her hand and secured it in the crook of his arm. “I prefer you closer, my dear.”
Georgie wished she was anywhere but here. She was well aware that the gossips whispered about how Lord Ransdale took advantage of his female servants, abandoning them when they started increasing. He was not a man she cared to spend any time with, much less be associated with.
They didn’t speak as Lord Ransdale led her into the dining room, for which she was most grateful. She had nothing to say to him. He waved off the footman and pulled her chair out. After she sat down, he pushed her chair in and claimed the seat next to her.
Lord Ransdale reached for her linen napkin and draped it on her lap. “We wouldn’t want you to soil your pretty gown,” he said.
Charles sat at the head of the table, appearing unconcerned by Lord Ransdale’s familiar behavior.
Georgie reached for her glass and took a sip. She knew she just needed to get through this night and hoped she wouldn’t have to see Lord Ransdale ever again.
“I was saddened to hear about the death of your father,” Lord Ransdale said.
Charles reached for his glass. “It was most fortunate that he didn’t suffer like my mother did. He didn’t want that.”
“Have you taken up your seat in the House of Lords?” Lord Ransdale asked.
“Not yet,” Charles replied, “but that is why we are in London for the Season.”
Lord Ransdale shifted his gaze towards Georgie. “It is a shame that you are in mourning, and you haven’t been able to enjoy the Season.”
“It is an honor to mourn my father,” Georgie stated.
Lord Ransdale reached out and laid a hand on her sleeve. “I am glad that you chose to forego your mourning gown this evening,” he said. “Dare I hope that you wore this gown for me?”
“My brother requested that I wear this gown,” she informed him.
“It is true,” Charles said. “My sister looks much too drab in dark colors.”
Lord Ransdale removed his hand when a servant placed a bowl of soup in front of him. “I agree,” he remarked. “You are much too beautiful to hide behind mourning clothes.”
“I am not hiding,” she contended. “When one loses a parent, they are expected to mourn for six months.”
