Page 59 of Scandal’s Daughter

Chapter 25

“Wherein proposals are made.”

“What in the name of God were you thinking?”

Georgiana blanched and stared at the toes of her satin slippers. She didn’t know how to answer the earl, who was quite obviously at a loss to understand her motivation.

“Oh, Alex, do stop chastising the poor girl!” Céleste scolded him, coming to sit beside Georgiana and taking her hand. “It is perfectly obvious why she did it after what the Duke of Sindalton said.” She squeezed Georgiana’s fingers in a reassuring manner and smiled at her. “I’m so sorry, dearest, truly. But Alex is right, you must ‘ave a care.”

“He wants to marry me,” she said, effectively stopping the conversation.

“Lord Beaumont has offered for you?” Alex said in surprise and then glanced at his wife.

“It’s alright,” Georgiana replied, smiling. “I’m aware of his reputation and yes, the only reason he’s suddenly desperate to marry is because his creditors are getting impatient, to say the least. He was very honest with me. But he is also very entertaining and we’re good friends.”

“But you’re really considering it?” Céleste demanded, the surprise only too apparent in her eyes.

She gave her friend a speaking glance. “What choice do I have but to consider it?”

Céleste had already heard the whole pitiful tale last night. She’d unburdened herself of Sebastian’s hateful words, the truth about his mother and why he’d never offer for her ... and Beau’s kiss.

“You don’t love him,” Céleste said, her voice echoing the sadness visible in her eyes.

“No,” Georgiana agreed. “But not all of us are as lucky as you were, Céleste.”

Her friend’s face fell as Lord Falmouth put his hand on his wife’s shoulder and they shared a look of such intimacy that Georgiana’s stomach clenched with jealousy. That was what she longed for, that unspoken connection, that deep and unbreakable tie that needed no words to prove the depth of its love and regard, and that was what she was never likely to have.

They looked up as a scratching sound was heard at the door and the butler appeared.

“My lord, there is a Lord Nibley to see you.”

Lord Falmouth nodded and left the room as Céleste and Georgiana looked at each other in surprise. She gave Georgiana a broad smile.

“I think perhaps Beau isn’t the only one with marriage on his mind.”

***

Twenty minutes later, with a scarlet-cheeked Lord Nibley wearing a hole into the carpet, Céleste was proved right.

Lord Falmouth, judging that Georgiana was in no immediate danger from Percy Nibley, had allowed the man to attend her alone. A fact for which Georgiana wanted to throttle him. She sat demurely, outwardly calm at least, while she ran through all the possible ways of letting the man down gently.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid this really isn’t my area of expertise,” he said, breaking the awkward silence that had been smothering them both for the last interminable five minutes. It had felt like hours. “If I was Beau, I’d have something witty and charming to say,” he added with a chagrined smile that was rather endearing. “And if I was Sindalton ...” He shrugged. “Well, a duke doesn’t have to say much to be impressive, does he?”

Georgiana scowled; that shouldn’t be true. She certainly wasn’t impressed by his grace. She had loved the impoverished marquess he’d claimed to be, and wished he’d been a plain mister more than anything. Someone who didn’t have generations of ancestors expecting him to make a brilliant match.

“Oh dear,” he sighed and sat down in the seat beside her. “I’m making rather a mull of this aren’t I?”

She gave him a smile which she hoped was kind but not too encouraging.

“The thing is, Miss Bomford,” he began, and as she looked up at him, she found his eyes were serious. “I know you don’t love me, I’m not so very foolish as all that,” he added with a rather disarming smile. “But I thought perhaps, if I explained a little, you might consider my heartfelt, if not romantic, proposal.”

She inclined her head, not having the heart to give him an immediate rejection before he’d said his piece. The least she could do was listen.

“The thing is,” he said. “Is that I’ve become most terribly fond of you. You are a lovely young woman who I’d be overjoyed to make my wife. But I’ve been trying to think what could possibly induce you to marry such a dull fellow.”

“Oh, my lord!” she exclaimed, for that was too harsh. Yes, he was certainly a bookish type and yes, her eyes did glaze over when he became particularly enthused in explaining the difference between igneous, sedimentary and metamorphic rocks. “I cannot allow that. Why, you are wonderful company.”

He smiled again, deep pleasure showing in his brown eyes as he adjusted his wire-framed spectacles. “Well, you’re very kind, too kind perhaps,” he added, looking down at his shiny boots. “I’m not about to pretend that I can claim any of the attractions of Beau or ... or your other suitors. But ...”