Georgie tried to find a scrap of remorse for Marcus, but there was none. Instead, she swallowed the remainder of the brandy, then set the glass down on a small table.
“What’s this?” the baroness said, pointing to an object on the floor, nearly lost in the complex pattern of the rug. Lily picked it up, and almost immediately reacted to whatever it was as if it was hot, or possibly sharp. She dropped it into her palm, a curious expression on her face.
“May I see it?” Georgie asked, concerned from her friend’s reaction that it might have been a shard of glass. Lily held out her hand to reveal a small bronze medallion, approximately the size of a guinea, which Georgie recognized.
“Marcus must have dropped it,” Georgie said, picking it up and examining the familiar piece of Hawthorne history. In truth, she’d never given it much thought, given the innumerable trappings that came with the Ashcombe title. “It’s a family heirloom that gets passed down to the heir of Ashcombe.”
“My dear,” the baroness said, tapping impatiently with her walking stick. “I cannot abide such drama at my age. I believewe have waited long enough, and I am most eager to rejoin the party.”
Georgie wrapped her fingers around the charm. She would have to return it to Marcus, but she would think about that tomorrow. Tonight, she had only one thing on her mind, and that was dancing with Tom. She held out her arm to Lily, who accepted it, and together with the baroness they returned to the ballroom where a quadrille was in full swing.
Tom was on the dance floor, partnered with Miss Howard. Beside them were Miss Morehouse and Mr. Osbourne. A possessive energy flared as Georgie saw Tom dancing in step with Miss Howard, which was utterly ridiculous, particularly since Miss Howard was in love with Miss Morehouse. Indeed, though they were very careful, Georgie could see the smiles exchanged between the two ladies as they joined hands when the steps of the dance allowed. Georgie and her companions walked to the side of the ballroom, where the viscountess and the dowager were observing the festivities.
“My lady,” the baroness began, “I declare this evening an absolute success!”
“Indeed, I believe you are correct,” the viscountess said, regarding Georgie with a knowing look. “I look forward to getting to know you better, my dear. Indeed, Tom came to see us last night about his particular hopes for tonight’s ball, but I believe he’s been thinking about you since he decided to take on this task of finding a bride.”
Georgie laughed as she recalled their first meeting at the Lyon’s Den.
“I’m not certain of that,” Georgie said. “He seemed quite determined for it to be anyone but me.”
“When he started, he was mercenary about it,” the viscountess said, nodding in agreement. “As much as I love my husband’s family, I was furious that the old viscount put thatridiculous condition on his inheritance. I’m still getting to know my stepson, but he is too much like his father for me to believe that he could be so calculating about love.”
Georgie smiled at that. She loved that Tom knew his father and had loving parents who understood him.
“When I see the way he looks at you,” the viscountess continued, “I know you are the person who will make him whole. I do hope he will do the same for you. I know what you have been through, Lady Georgiana, as it is a tale far too common for too many ladies. But I do hope that you are finding not only escape, but love.”
A lump welled in Georgie’s throat at the generosity of the viscountess’s words.
“My dear Henry would be well pleased with you,” said the dowager. Tom’s grandmother was small in stature but had a steel about her that Georgie found admirable. “I don’t know whether or not I should be grateful to him for this extra burden he placed on our dear Tom. But perhaps, if he hadn’t forced the boy’s hand, he wouldn’t have known you.”
“I hope I am the subject of the gossip from this side of the room.”
Tom appeared, looking splendid in his bottle-green coat, staring at the ladies, but saving his best smile for Georgie. It took all her mettle to not wrap her arms around him in the middle of the room.
“I believe you are,” the baroness said, “and I suspect you don’t mind having a group of women who are busy extolling your virtues.”
“We were just speaking of the conditions on your inheritance,” his grandmother said.
“Indeed, Grandmother,” he said, “I do not yet know if I will meet the conditions of Grandfather’s will.”
The dowager regarded Tom with a curious, appraising look.
“What on earth do you mean?” she asked, a carefully arched brow framing her question. She lowered her voice, forcing her grandson to lean in closer to hear. “You just can’t tussle with a lady and decide not to marry her.”
Georgie remained silent as a nervous thread wound through her. Wasn’t Tom just declaring his love for her but a few short minutes ago?
“Of course, I wish to marry her,” Tom said, wearing a smile so bright it made Georgie’s heart want to burst. He turned to her and bowed deeply, looking so deeply into her eyes she thought she might get lost in the blue depths. “I have wanted to marry Georgie since I was fourteen. I have wanted to marry her since before I knew it was even possible for a steward’s son to marry the daughter of an earl. So eager that I turned a question into a demand, without considering how hard it would be to say yes, without considering the impact of that question on the people I love the most. So now, as much as I would love to marry Lady Georgiana, I wish for this to happen on her terms, when she is ready. And if that means it happens after my twenty-sixth birthday, or after my thirty-sixth birthday, I will wait until she is ready for me.”
He took Georgie’s hands in his, bringing her fingers to his mouth and pressing a firm but gentle kiss on her fingers. The warmth of his touch mingled with the memory of where those kisses had landed earlier this evening, stirred her blood. She wanted him this very moment.
“I have waited far too long to be with you,” she said, trying to keep the trembling out of her voice. It was nearly impossible to do so, the joy bubbling in her chest like it needed to go somewhere, and she could either cry or throw her hands around his neck and kiss him thoroughly on the lips, and neither were appropriate for the middle of a ballroom, right in front of his mother and grandmother.
Or was it? After all, hadn’t she begun this search for husband by breaking practically every rule she knew, and several she didn’t?
She took his hand, and overcome by pure love, she pressed her lips to his hand.
“I would love to marry you,” she said. “I am ready for a life of happiness with you. And it can’t come soon enough.”
