A very little.
“My lady,” he said, “shall we take a turn on this lovely day?”
“Of course,” she replied. Behind her, she heard the utter joy of Miss Fairfax at being paired with Mr. Crowley. At least one of the three ladies seemed to be genuinely happy with their partner. The irony that the technical last place finisher in the game was by any yardstick the winner in terms of happiness was not lost on Georgie.
Mr. Osbourne offered his elbow, and she took it. In truth, she wanted to be as far from the Lyon’s Den as she could possibly go, but at the moment, the garden would have to do.
“I am quite pleased with today’s outcome,” he said. “I think we shall make a good match.”
“I agree,” she said, more to convince herself perhaps than Mr. Osbourne. “And I hope you are not averse to making the match as soon as possible.”
If her request surprised him, he gave no sign. “Not at all. I am very eager to get back to my ponies. I miss them so very dearly. And I think you will like them as well. Particularly Freya, my big golden mare.”
He continued to list off another half dozen animals, describing them each in exquisite detail, from their physical attributes to their temperaments. The affection he had for his four-legged friends was such that if Georgie actually had any particular feeling for Mr. Osbourne, it might have made her a little envious. While he enthusiastically discussed his steeds—all, as far as she could tell, named for gods and goddesses of one pantheon or another, she could have sworn she’d heard Tom’s voice through the verge, and sensed him around the next corner. It didn’t matter. He was to marry Miss Morehouse. She would have the pedigree his grandmother required of him to win the fulsome amount of his inheritance.
“Indeed, Perseus,” Mr.Osbourne continued, dragging her attention back to him as he talked of one of his favorite horses, “was an instrumental clue to help with one of the more perplexing items on Miss Morehouse’s list.”
“Well,” Georgie began, trying to drum up enthusiasm even as she felt her attention waning, “that is a very good thing.”
“Indeed. Did you know that Miss Howard is quite fond of horses? Miss Morehouse mentioned it several times. I have invited them to visit once they are settled,” he said, then seemed to catch himself. “I hope you do not mind visitors. Sometimes my enthusiasm gets the better of me.”
A marriage in name only.The likelihood that Miss Morehouse—the soon to be Mrs. Worthington—would visit with anyone else but Miss Howard was unlikely. And she didn’t dislike the ladies. Not at all.
“I am certain they would be lovely guests,” she said. “And perhaps I would invite Miss Duigood and the Baroness D’Anville as well. I believe Miss Duigood in particular would enjoy some time in the countryside.”
“Excellent,” he said, then turned serious. “Should I call upon your father, my lady? I should like to make my intentions known to him as soon as possible.”
“Indeed, that is not necessary,” she said. “I will write to my brother Gabriel and advise him. My father, alas, would not approve. But I have money from my mother’s family that should help establish us very well indeed.”
“Of course,” he said. “Where shall I call upon you?”
Where, indeed. Her father would be expecting her at Ashcombe House before the dinner hour. The very thought of returning to the oppressive despair and desperation of her father’s company made her want to linger even longer with Mr. Osbourne.
“If you could send word to Baroness D’Anville, I will make haste to meet you there two days hence. Do you think that will be enough time to get a license?”
“I shall do my very best,” he said.
By the time she’d climbed into the carriage with Lily, Georgie was certain that she passed a very pleasant hour with Mr. John Osbourne. She remembered he smiled, and the smile seemed real enough; he kissed the back of her hand, and she might have had the presence of mind to smile sweetly back at him. The horses, his home in Lincolnshire, the fact that she would be entertaining the woman who’d won a game and claimed Thomas Worthington for herself…all of it had become a blur, dulled bythe blanket of relief that this plan of hers was over. By Saturday afternoon, she would remove herself from Ashcombe House for the last time.
Mr. Osbourne had done her the kindness of seeing her to the carriage and waved as it pulled away.
“Do you have to go immediately to your father?” Lily asked, not bothering to hide her concern. “You could return to the baroness’s residence and refresh yourself first.”
“As much as I would love to,” she began, looking away from the window where her companion was looking at her just a little too carefully, “it would only put off the inevitable. He will already be pacing the halls expecting me. This is the longest I have been away from him.”
“But you will be married soon,” Lily said, “and all of this will be far behind you.”
Not soon enough.Georgie pushed the thought aside.
“Mr. Osbourne has agreed to a special license, and I hope to be married before the end of the week.” She turned back to Lily, reaching for her hand. She needed someone to hold on to. This past week had opened Georgie’s eyes to how alone she’d been for so long. Urgency rushed through her. “I hope you and the baroness might come, since I have no one else to stand with me.”
“I would be honored, my lady,” Lily said, her face lighting up with such surprise that Georgie could not help but reach out and take both Lily’s hands in her own. The very idea of friendship such as she’d come to know with Lily was so new and comforting…this was one relationship she had to hold on to.
“Once I am settled in Lincolnshire, I hope you will come and visit,” she said. “Indeed, I hope you come and stay as long as you like.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Lily said. “That is very kind.”
“And please, you must call me Georgiana,” she said. “If that is not too forward. There is no obligation of course.”
