Page 89 of Scandal’s Daughter

“I tried to help him, but he was too damn proud to take it. No, he must go and steal the woman I love instead!”

Georgiana sighed, knowing it was useless. “I know,” she said. “But I can’t help but feel sorry for him, and for you. You’ll miss him.”

Sebastian made no reply, and they continued their walk in silence.

***

Despite Georgiana’s protestations the five days did pass, though slowly. The morning of the wedding was bright and sunny, a perfect early summer’s day.

Céleste, looking quite stunning in a peach blossom, satin dress with cypress gauze, wiped at her eyes and waved her lace handkerchief in agitation.

“Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “Oh, you look so very beautiful, Georgiana, but I wish you did not, for now I’m going to cry, and I shall look perfectly dreadful for the wedding.”

Georgiana laughed and held out her hands to Céleste who ran up to claim them, lovely blue eyes sparkling with tears.

“Oh, dearest, Georgie,” she said, holding one hand to her cheek. “I am so very ‘appy for you.”

Georgiana beamed, but the lump in her throat seemed too heavy to speak around, so she just nodded and laughed and prayed she wouldn’t cry herself.

Madam Lisabeth’s design was, in its creator's own words, a masterpiece.

The body of the gown was a white satin slip, ornamented at the hem with a flounce of broad lace and surmounted by satin lilies. The stalks of the lilies were contrived in silk cord and disposed in waves around the border.

Georgiana smiled as she took in the intricate details and smoothed down the gown of spotted British net that overlaid the satin in an open train that met just below her bust and fell in a gentle curve to the ground.

A delicate wreath of roses and lilies trimmed the slip and one perfect white lily was pinned in her hair against an elegant background of fern leaves.

It looked pristine and delightful against her shining red hair. As ever, she had left one long ringlet to trail over her shoulder and if she was well pleased with the effect, she was only echoing the thoughts of her abigail and her dearest friend.

A slightly harassed demand, as it was by far from the first time of asking, came from the landing as Lord Falmouth enquired, “Are you ready now?”

“Oui!” Céleste called, and ran to the door, hurrying through it to her husband. “Oh, Alex! Just wait until you see ‘er, I fear you shan’t look at me again all day.”

“Never, mignonne,” his lordship replied with more obvious honesty than gallantry.

Feeling suddenly a little shy and overwhelmed, Georgiana left the room and was gratified by the look of appreciation in Lord Falmouth’s usually cool grey eyes.

“Well indeed,” he said, smiling at her. “Céleste has the right of it as ever. Georgiana, you do look a picture.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said, grinning at him.

“Oh, and just think, in such a short while, she’ll be a duchess!”

“Not at this rate she won’t!” Falmouth exclaimed with a snort. “Now will you hurry, or Sindalton will think he’s been jilted, and much as that might amuse me, it won’t him.”

“Oh, do stop fretting, Alex,” Céleste said, taking her husband’s arm and allowing him to escort her down the sweeping staircase of his home. “And you know you said you’d quite forgiven ‘im and that ‘e was really a decent fellow.”

“I’m sure I couldn’t have said any such thing,” Falmouth said, winking at Georgiana over Céleste’s head.

“You did and you know it,” Céleste insisted, tapping his arm with her fan in a scolding manner.

“I must have been foxed,” the earl said mildly, and escorted the ladies to his carriage.

***

Sindalton frowned as Lord Nibley enquired if he had remembered everything necessary for the smooth running of the wedding.

“Well, I’m here,” he replied with a grin, believing everything was well in hand for the wedding breakfast, which Lord Falmouth had graciously undertaken to give at his home. Sebastian’s mother was still not in her right mind and confined to her own wing of the house.