Page 42 of Lessons for Marquesses
Oliver feigned a coughing fit. Nicholas leveled a glare at him while Georgiana leapt up and poured a brandy. After a slap on his back, she offered him the libation. He downed half before squinting over the glass at Nicholas. “Such a considerate woman. Don’t you agree, Mr. Wolf?”
“Indeed. Write up the contract.” Nicholas simmered a moment before regarding Georgiana. “It seems my offer for your hand in racing has been accepted.”
By God, that was brilliant!
Oliver shouted, “Kitty Babbington! I know you’re lurking out there. Come here at once.”
Kitty crept around the door frame, her ribboned head bowed.
“Have Julian roused immediately. We require witnesses.”
Georgiana watched her friend dash off. “Cousin, we don’t require further witnesses. Yours will suffice.”
Poor girl, she hadn’t a feminine sensibility in her female body,yet. “I intend to render this agreement official, with a rite, if you will. Are you agreeable, Mr. Wolf?”
“Of course, Acomb,” Nicholas replied smoothly. “Whatever you wish.”
Georgiana looked between the two of them. “But it’s not necessary.”
Nicholas drew away and folded his arms across his chest. “Allow Lord Acomb his amusement.”
Truly, a St. Clair never missed a chance to wring advantages to the last drop, even if they were merely symbolic. Oliver would drop a note to his man to have it printed in the London papers and the town weeklies to Scotland.A Match Made in Racing Heaven.He would conceal their names enough to deny it but reveal it sufficiently that everyone would know Mr. N.S. Wolf and Georgiana St. Clair were as good as betrothed.
Julian stumbled in the room, banyan half-buttoned and rubbing his wild hair. “What now, Ollie? The colonists at war again?”
“Stand there, brother, beside Mr. Wolf and nurse your headache. We’ll have celebratory spirits after the ceremony. Kitty stand next to Georgiana.”
Charlotte swept into the room appraising the scene down her little nose. “What ceremony, Acomb?”
“A bit of pomp. Now join hands please. Mr. Wolf. Georgiana.” If only Oliver could be a fly on Nicholas’s dark soul as he pried Georgiana’s hand from the chair arm. “Mr. Wolf, repeat after me. I do solemnly swear on the souls of all ancestors dead and family and friends living, that I do enter into this contract in good faith and shall honorably abide by the terms of the contract.”
Nicholas cocked a brow and repeated the vow.
“And”—because Oliver was having the grandest time in years—“I promise to cherish and honor my partner, Georgiana St. Clair.”
A huff broke from his lips and damn if Nick didn’t take it further, looking steadfastly into Georgiana’s eyes. “I promise, George, to cherish and honor you as a partner. And teach you all I know.”
“Not all, I hope,” Julian quipped.
Turning slowly in his chair, Nicholas regarded Julian until his brother broke under the scrutiny. “Sorry, Georgie. Your turn.”
Georgiana perched awkwardly. “I do solemnly swear to all Lord Acomb has set forth.”
“Repeat it all, girl.”
Georgiana took hold of Mr. Wolf’s hand with both of hers. “I do solemnly swear on the souls of all dead and living, that I enter into this contract in good faith, et cetera. And I promise to…” She sped through the rest and added, “Listen to you as a partner and laugh at all your jests and make you proud.”
As Nicholas withdrew his hand in a near approximation to a man escaping fire, Oliver beamed. “I now pronounce you partners. You may shake hands.”
Silence ensued as they considered each other. Georgiana struck out her hand. Nicholas enveloped it in his and the size was striking against hers. Oliver called for a toast and within the quarter hour, Nick had agreed to arrive at Farendon by the end of the following week. He also smiled at Georgiana as he departed.
And that was politics, dealing with those one disliked and more often than not, after simulating goodwill, finding them to be perfectly excellent people. Indeed, former enemies made for the surest friends.
Georgiana felt her hopes slip away like a rope hitching from its mooring. Maybe, if she had grace and a petite figure, the ruse might have been less humiliating for Mr. Wolf. Pretend vows were shocking enough, but to Georgiana? Or if she had more mettle, the feminine sort that could put Oliver in his place without shouting, the ruse wouldn’t have happened at all. Mr. Wolf wouldn’t have left her with that smile. A smile of a person blessed with an escape.
Excusing herself, Georgiana fled to the mews. She prayed the stable boy saddled Mr. Wolf’s horse slower than his departure from the study, but when she found him preparing to mount his horse, she had no pretty speeches.
Caroline would know what to say. In fact, if it were Caroline whom Mr. Wolf had been forced to utter the wordcherishto, nothing need be said.
