Page 20 of Counting on Love

“I was hoping for pictures.”

He snorted. “Stuff it back. My head hurts just from the title.”

She did, just on time before Mama bustled into the room, her face wreathed with disapproval, her posture stiff. She saw Hazard and relaxed.

“Oh. It’s only you.”

“My dear lady,” he said, in an exaggerated huff, “that is simply rude.”

“Yes, it was. I apologize. I was in the midst of writing a letter and…” She glanced back at the door. “And I want to get it into the morning’s post.” She bit her lip. “Yes, well. I will just step out for a few minutes if you’ll forgive me. I won’t be long.”

Georgiana stared, shocked, but Hazard simply flicked his fingers and said, “Go on.”

Mama left them alone.

He looked at her and made a pained face. “How emasculating. Come, sit on my lap. It will serve her right.”

“Lord Haslet!” She choked on her laughter. “You are improper.”

“Too much so and not enough.” He set his gaze upon the mahogany table and its burden of flowers. She noted that his cheeks had flushed slightly. Mama had embarrassed him. Oh, it made her heart hurt.

“They are all Alice’s,” she said, crankily enough that he would notice and be amused.

“Well, yes.” He pointed to a tasteful, compact bouquet of white and pink tea roses. “Those are mine.”

“Yours?” Georgiana had not read the cards. Alice wouldn’t have minded, but still.

“And where is she this morning? If I may ask?” He was still looking at the flowers.

“Riding in the park with Mr. Gamby.”

“Ah.” He nodded and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “He’s a decent sort. Dibs not in tune, unfortunately, but he has expectations from his grandfather.”

“Do you know everything? About everyone?”

He looked back at her and smiled sheepishly. “I can’t help it. People tell me things. However, I don’t repeat everything. That is key.” He lifted a questioning eyebrow.

“Don’t expect any confidences,” she said, tossing her head. “I’m sure you already know more about me than I do.”

He chuckled. Then his thin, handsome face bunched into a knot, and he said, “I’d like to ask you something. Privately. You don’t need to answer, but please don’t tell anyone I asked.”

She peered at him closely but could guess nothing from his expression. “You may ask.”

“What does Miss Fogbotham expect from a marriage?”

“Excuse me?” She had been traveling in the wrong direction and now drew up short. “Alice?”

“Well, girls marry for some reason. Is it wealth? Status? Children? Or something intangible.”

“All those things,” she answered. He looked uncomfortable and did not wear it well. So she tried to answer gently and honestly, though she could not be more confused. “I don’t think Alice is overly concerned with status. Wealth is not a necessity, but comfort would be. And children, of course.”

“Well, that is not very helpful. If it were wealth and status…” He turned over his hands and tried to smile.

“Are you…?” Then she rattled the thought from her head and asked instead, “Does your mother require you to pursue one young lady per Season?”

“Ha! No.” He flopped back, sprawling, and rubbed his hands over his cheeks. “Not Mother. The old witch was too correct. My cousin’s son just borrowed—ha! ‘borrowed’ as if he’s ever repaid a guinea—yet another fifty pounds to keep his creditors from calling in his tickets. A little gambling at his age is nothing to carp about, but he has fallen in with the worst sort of people. He is never completely sober.” He stopped, stricken. “I do beg your pardon. I really meant to address my question to your mother. And without this much sordid detail.”

“Hazard, I am so sorry. And I’m discreet. I won’t say anything.”