Page 9 of This Earl of Mine

She gazed across the dance floor and tried to ignore the sense of dissatisfaction that had plagued her ever since she’d left Newgate. According to her original plan,she should have been a widow by now. Instead, she had a husband, somewhere out there in the world.

Her stomach gave an anxious flutter every time she thought of the rogue she’d married. Their encounter had left her with a restless awareness of her own body, a strange yearning. Looking back, she was amazed at her own boldness. Her memories of that night had taken on elements of a dream, or a bout of madness.

She had to stop thinking about him.

It had been three weeks since she’d summoned her mother and sister into the library and calmly explained that she’d married a convict to avoid Cousin Josiah. Mother had taken the news surprisingly well. She’d long ago abandoned any hope of Georgie landing a decent husband, and she’d never particularly liked Cousin Josiah, so she sympathized with Georgie’s aversion to marrying him, if not her choice of alternative.

In addition, Mother was blessed with a talent for simply ignoring things she didn’t want to acknowledge, like outrageous dressmakers’ bills, the ruinous cost of claret, and wayward eldest daughters who secretly married criminals. Her main concern had been that thetonmight find out about Georgie’s “foolish act,” as she called it. No scandal could be allowed to jeopardize Juliet’s chances of a brilliant match. She’d pronounced the whole affair an “unfortunate incident best forgotten,” and had sworn both Georgie and Juliet to secrecy.

“Do try one of these flans, Georgiana.”

Georgie turned. Only her mother ever called her Georgiana. And Pieter, of course, whenever she did something outrageous.

“I wonder if it would be possible to abduct Lady Langton’s pastry chef?” Mother muttered around a delicate mouthful oféclair. “He’s French, you know. These are divine.”

Georgie smiled, well used to such flights of fancy. “I don’t think it’s legal. And even if it were, it sounds expensive. I bet you’d have to lay out a tidy sum for a kidnapping. Even for a lowly pastry chef.”

Her mother chewed thoughtfully. “Hmm. You’re probably right. Besides, Cook wouldn’t like it if we let a revolutionary invade her kitchen.” She poked Georgie in the ribs with her folded fan. “I hope you’re not going to discuss trade routes with Lord Galveston again. This is supposed to be a party. No one wants to talk about latitude and longitude. Eccentricity is all very well in a ninety-year-old spinster, but it is hardly becoming in a woman who is only twenty-four.”

Georgie managed not to roll her eyes. “Twenty-five, as of today,” she murmured.

Mother had decided that Georgie would soon be a widow—thanks to the short life expectancy of criminals in the Antipodes. She’d been suggesting potentialsecondhusbands with depressing regularity.

“Oh, look, there’s Clara Cockburn. Admiral Cockburn’s wife.” Her mother waved at a plump, dark-haired woman across the room then raised her fan to hide her mouth. “Odious gossip. I don’t care what you say, Georgie, that woman has a mustache. I swear, in certain lights—”

“Shh!” Georgie smothered a laugh. “Someone will hear you! You wouldn’t want to ruin Juliet’s chances, would you?”

As if by unspoken agreement, they both turned to watch her younger sister, who was dancing in the center of the room. A tiny frown wrinkled the perfection of Juliet’s otherwise smooth forehead. Mother sucked in a breath. “Oh dear. It doesn’t look as if she’s finding the Duke of Upton amusing.”

Not for the first time, Georgie wondered how she could be related to such a beautiful creature. Juliet literally turned heads wherever she went. Just this morning, walking to Hatchard’s, a distracted carriage driver had taken one look at Juliet and pulled so hard on his reins that his horse had crashed into a street vendor’s stall. A torrent of apples had rolled down from the poor merchant’s carefully constructed pyramid. A besotted young buck had rushed forward to shield Juliet from the fruity threat—ignoring Georgie in his haste—and when Juliet had thrown him an absent-minded smile of thanks, he’d backed away, bowing, until he’d bumped into a window cleaner’s ladder. Both of them had toppled to the ground.

Juliet, as usual, had been oblivious to the trail of destruction that followed in her wake. It was, however, impossible to dislike her because she was completely free from vanity or conceit. No one was immune to her sunny charm, from the eighty-year-old vicar to the two-year-old in leading strings; one sweet smile from Juliet’s rosebud lips and the hardest of hearts melted.

Georgie completely understood Juliet’s appeal. Her own sense of humor was sometimes dry and at the expense of male pride, and she was often uncomfortably direct. Who wanted that when they could have Juliet’s delicious folly?

Juliet’s incredible clumsiness, however, had always been a source of slightly guilty pleasure. This, surely, was evidence of Mother Nature giving the less pretty girls a sporting chance. No one should be allowed that much beautyandcoordination. It just wouldn’t be fair. Even as she watched, Juliet turned the wrong way in the dance and stepped on her partner’s foot. The duke didn’t seem to notice. His rapt gaze never left her face, and he seemed genuinely crestfallen at the need to restore her to her family when the cotillion ended. Juliet gave him a sweet smile, nodded at his pleasantries—and expertly sent him on his way.

She turned to Georgie with a little huff as their mother excused herself to go to the powder room.

“Something wrong, Ju?” Georgie ventured.

Juliet gave an elegant shrug of her milky-white shoulders. “Do you know how tiresome it is to be constantly likened to classical deities? I swear, if one more person compares me to Diana or Aphrodite, I’ll… well, I don’t know what I’ll do. But it will be bad.”

She pursed her lips, and Georgie bit back a smile. If the men thought of Juliet as a Greek goddess, they probably consideredhera Harpy or a Gorgon.

“Why must men be so silly?” Juliet sighed. “Lord Dunravin said he’d slay dragons for me. There aren’t any dragons anymore, are there? At least, not in England.”

“There are no dragons left in England,” Georgie agreed, with a straight face. “Unless you count Lady Cockburn over there. How dare he offer to rid the world of imaginary beasts?”

“Well, what would you want a man to do for you?” Juliet asked, suddenly serious. “If not slay dragons?”

Georgie considered the question. She’d given up hope of a man wanting to do things for her about five insincere proposals ago. “I’d want him to make me smile,” she said after a moment. “And make my stomach all giddy.”

The way her prisoner had done.

“And be aware that there are no dragons in England,” she added for good measure. “Intelligence in a man is always a welcome surprise.” She nodded toward the duke. “You’re not seriously considering Upton, are you?”

“Ugh, no. I know mother would love me to become ‘Her Grace,’ but I can’t imagine marrying anyone except my darling Simeon.”

---