“Good afternoon,” she called out when she was close enough to make her presence known.
They both paused and turned toward Georgie. While both women were gently bred, it was easy to see that one of them, clad in an elegant, soft-green muslin dress with a matching wool pelisse with elegantly embroidered flowers along the cuffs and collar, was of a higher social rank than the other. She wore no bonnet, and her light-brown hair was pulled back in a simple but elegant knot at the back of her head. She had an unmistakable aristocratic bearing, but smiled warmly at Georgie.
“Good afternoon,” the woman replied, returning Georgie’s rather clumsy greeting with a bright smile that appeared genuine. “I assume you are here for the matchmaking game?”
The two followed the dark-green boxwood hedge, meeting up with the lady who was, like Georgie, accompanied by another woman in a simple but well-fitted frock that marked her status as a gentle companion.
Georgie nodded, a crush of relief coming over her. “My name is Lady Georgiana Hawthorne, and this is my companion, Miss Lily Duigood.”
“Miss Mariah Morehouse,” she continued, her tone bright, gesturing to the woman beside her. “This is Miss Imogene Howard.”
“A pleasure,” Georgie replied.
“Miss Amanda Fairfax is nearby,” Miss Morehouse continued. “She will also join us for Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s game.”
Georgie was curious to ask Miss Morehouse what brought a woman who looked as sensible as any she’d met to the Lyon’s Den for a husband, but seeing as Georgie was not inclined toshare her own secrets, she kept her question to herself. Miss Morehouse was far more open about the affair.
“I am not at all certain about the need for the theatrics associated with this week’s events,” Miss Morehouse continued. “I would much rather just pick one and be done with it.”
“I suspect it is for the benefit of Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” Miss Howard said. “I have heard she will be charging for those who wish to watch.”
“Watch?” Georgie asked, her voice breaking in a rather unladylike squeak at the prospect. She cast a glance at Miss Duigood, the blood rushing to her cheeks as the idea of being on display had as much appeal as reciting Fordyce’s Sermons. “I don’t want spectators. It’s enough I am here.” The scandal would be bad enough.
“Do not trouble yourself,” Miss Morehouse said, so unbothered by the idea that Georgie didn’t know whether to be shocked or impressed. “Once you are married, the ton will move on to the next scandal like the ravenous beast that it is.”
“Are you not worried about being shunned by polite society?” Georgie asked. Her father’s fixation on the Ashcombe place in society had gone from being one of pride to obsession over the course of Georgie’s life. Once upon a time, during her grandfather’s time, the family had been a paragon, and the estate one of the richest in the kingdom. Over the decades, that had slipped away, to the point that each Hawthorne sibling was expected to marry well to protect the family’s fracturing reputation. Her elder brother Marcus, the heir, plagued by illness of late, had to put his matchmaking plans on hold. Gabriel had left entirely, no longer willing to bear their father’s anger over his lack of propriety and interest in the estate. It had been left to Georgie to marry. But her father’s choice?
“I am not one for society,” Miss Morehouse replied, the brightness replaced by defiance that tensed her jaw and liftedher chin. “I will be very happy to retire to the country, tend to my gardens, and involve myself in whatever local affairs catch my fancy.”
“That sounds lovely indeed,” Miss Duigood answered.
“Indeed,” Georgie parroted. In truth, she was unsettled, the tension of doing her father’s bidding to soothe him and the repulsion of a life with a man her grandfather’s age, pulling her toward the impossible choice. Impossible, at least, for a girl who’d not only followed the rules, but spent far too much of her life making sure others had too.
“Shall we continue our walk?” Miss Duigood asked, as if sensing Georgie’s unease.
“I would like to see the heart of the maze,” she admitted.
“It is very pretty,” Miss Howard said. “There is a small fountain at the center that is quite pleasing.”
A little running water might have been exactly what she needed to calm her fraying nerves. Bidding Miss Morehouse and Miss Howard a good afternoon, they started farther into the maze.
“You are having second thoughts,” Miss Duigood said.
“Am I so transparent?” Georgie asked, ruing her decision not to wear a bonnet that might help shield her from her companion’s keen observations. Miss Duigood was a relatively new acquaintance, and whether it was because Georgie had no true friends or her companion’s naturally warm disposition, she felt at ease to speak more freely than she normally might.
“Perhaps,” Miss Duigood replied. “But given your circumstances, I believe your trepidation is to be expected.”
“Expected, but not comfortable.”
“When we are reaching out past the world others have drawn for us, it can be scary.” Miss Duigood guided Georgie toward a cherry tree, the young fresh leaves already providing a canopy as it waited for the blooms that were not quite ready. She restedher fingers on the bark, smiling at it with a tenderness one might reserve for an old friend. “Its seed dropped here years ago. To stand this long, its roots had to reach out into the unknown. And now look at it, a thing of beauty, flourishing.”
Georgie looked up at the tree, its thick trunk covered in dark rough bark. Soon it would be a glory of pink blossoms. Could she take a chance and blossom too?
“Thank you,” she said, thankful for this new acquaintance in her life.
“I shall fetch you a glass of lemonade or tea,” Miss Duigood said. “You can explore the maze and catch your breath, and I’ll be but a few moments.”
When Miss Duigood left, Georgie turned toward the maze. The design led her down one or two false paths that, in the evening, would no doubt provide the perfect place for a scandalous rendezvous after dark. Indeed, given the reputation of the Lyon’s Den, she worried she might come across a couple not willing to wait for nightfall. Luckily, she encountered no one, and she credited Mrs. Dove-Lyon with keeping such activities out of bounds, given the presence of three society ladies in search of husbands.
