Their visitors each took a seat, while Georgiana poured them a steaming cup of Darjeeling.
“Miss Morehouse, I understand you are also undertaking a husband hunt with Lady Georgiana,” the baroness said. “Iapologize for the directness of the conversation, but I am well past seventy and do not have time to waste on such banal topics as the weather.”
If Miss Morehouse was shocked by the baroness’s rather straightforward approach to conversation, she gave no indication.
“That I am,” she replied, her manner reserved, but respectful. To her credit, she appeared to bear no shame for her unorthodox methods, nor worry at her discovery. “My parents prefer their life in the country, and my brothers are too involved in their own lives to pay me much mind, so I am blessedly left to my own devices at present.”
“Excellent,” the baroness replied. “I too prefer to be left to my own devices. Husbands can be most troublesome when they are underfoot.”
“Lady Georgiana has not told me which of the gentlemen she prefers, if she has a preference,” the baroness then said.
“I have not, and I do not,” Georgie said, which was a lie as much to herself as to anyone else in the room. She could feel the weight of Lily’s stare on her as she took a sip of tea. “However, Miss Morehouse, I believe you have your sights set on Mr. Worthington.”
“I do,” Miss Morehouse replied. Georgie expected more, but after a very long silence, it appeared she was not inclined to speak further on the subject.
“Mr. Worthington is a very attractive suitor,” Lily added, filling the awkward pause. “And will be a viscount. Surely the catch of the three.”
“Indeed, it is neither those attributes which make him my preference,” Miss Morehouse replied. “Rather, it is the agreement that each of us require the convenience of the marital status, with none of the messiness of the marital state. It maymore accurately be considered a business decision than one of the heart.”
Was that what Tom truly wanted? A business decision? While she knew of his family’s requirements, it was hard to believe that a loveless marriage would suit him. This was the same boy who read her poetry and picked her flowers.
Of course, he was not a boy anymore. A memory of last night’s kiss came rushing back, driving heat to her belly. She took a sip of tea, allowing herself a moment to push the sensation away.
“I see,” Georgie said. And truly, she did see. The precariousness of Miss Morehouse’s situation, if she had deduced it correctly, was no small matter. “I am acquainted with Mr. Worthington from when we were children. I can vouch for his character. If he agreed to this, he would keep close the reasons that make it amenable to you both.”
“That is good to know,” Miss Morehouse replied. “Though, I suppose I must have a second choice, if the proceedings tomorrow dictate another outcome.”
“All seem to be reasonable gentlemen,” Miss Howard said, her tone soothing. “Mr. Crowley might be the least suitable, as he appears as a puppy in need of affection. But Mr. Osbourne may also suit.”
“Indeed, I believe as long as he is provided a stable and a few ponies, he will be happy with whomever he marries,” Georgiana agreed. “He does appear to be of good character, and my interactions with him have been nothing but gentlemanly.”
“We shall know the truth tomorrow before tea,” the baroness said.
“For myself, it cannot come soon enough. I am too much like my parents and wish to quit town as soon as I marry,” Miss Morehouse said. “My father has a small estate not far from the coast, in Devon. He has promised it as my wedding present.”
“Sounds lovely,” Georgie said. “Tom—that is, Mr. Worthington, spent his youth working with his adopted father, who was the steward for my father’s estate in Cheshire. He might be very helpful with regard to managing the estate.”
Miss Morehouse set down her teacup, pursed her lips, as if she was careful choosing her words. After a moment, she spoke.
“Lady Georgiana, may I be so bold as to ask an impertinent question?”
“Of course.” Georgie forced a smile as she waited. Given that she’d become inadvertently privy to one of Miss Morehouse’s secrets, she felt an obligation to be open.
“Given your familiarity with Mr. Worthington, why did you choose not to enter into marriage with him?” her guest asked. “I understand his elevation to the peerage is new, and perhaps came as a shock, but once the surprise was done, it would have been convenient for you both.”
Georgie felt the weight of the room as she allowed herself a moment to consider her answer. How could she explain a feeling that she could not articulate herself? A prickle of heat crawled up the back of her neck as she groped for some elegant way to express the reality she had been resigned to for years, but stung just as keenly now as then.
“I am not certain we would suit now,” she replied. “We were little more than children when we parted. And when we did, I hurt him in a way that makes any sort of reconciliation impossible.”
To her credit, Miss Morehouse did not linger on the answer, and soon the conversation turned toward more benign subjects, including art, a new acquisition of reliefs from antiquity at the British Museum, and a discussion about the gothic novels which were a particular favorite of Miss Howard. A liveried servant bearing a small tray interrupted the discussion. The baroness waved him in.
“This came for Lady Georgiana by special post,” he said, presenting her the tray which bore a single envelope. Georgie held her breath as she spied the familiar hand of her brother Marcus, and the telltale seal bearing a saltire and four tiny sigils that had represented the family for generations.
“What is it?” Lily asked, her concern plain.
Georgie inhaled deeply before running her finger under the wax, breaking the seal. Hurriedly she opened the letter, which was short but devastating.
“It is from my brother,” she said, unable to take her eyes from the page. “Marcus. He and my father have just arrived and are expecting me as soon as it is convenient.”
