Page 4 of Marry in Scarlet
Emm nodded. “The house is going to feel so empty with both Lily and Rose gone. We couldn’t do without you, George.”
George glanced at the mound of Emm’s belly. The house wouldn’t be empty for long. Or dull. The baby would take up all Emm’s time and attention then. “Iwillleave when I’m twenty-five.”
“We’ll talk about that when the time comes,” Cal said. “Nobody is going to force you into matrimony, George, but I don’t want you living alone.”
“Why not? I did for most of my life.” Except for her faithful Martha.
“A situation I deeply regret,” Cal said grimly. “Henry should have been shot for his lack of care for you. And for keeping your existence a secret from us all for so long. But you are part of this family now, and so you will remain.”
“I can never decide which I like better, the plum tarts or the strawberry ones,” Aunt Dottie said into the silence that followed. “Of course the marmalade ones are very nice, but I always think red jam is such a happy flavor, don’t you agree?”
The tense atmosphere eased.
Aunt Agatha set down her teacup with a clatter. “Pshaw! If that’s your attitude, I wash my hands of you.”
“But the red jamisthe sweetest, Aggie dear. There’s no need to get upset about it,” Aunt Dottie said. She winked at George.
“I’m not talking about the jam, as you very well know, Dorothea. Marriage is the only option for a gel of our order.” She trained her lorgnette on her sister. “We’ve already got one failure in the family, we don’t need another.”
“Aunt Dottie is not a failure—” Emm and George began at the same time.
Aunt Dottie chuckled. “Don’t worry, my dears, Aggie always takes a swipe at someone when she’s thwarted or put out in any way. It doesn’t bother me in the least.” She offered her sister the plate of tarts. “Try one of these, Aggie; they really are very good. They might even sweeten your tongue.”
Aunt Agatha waved them away. “You eat too many of those things. No wonder you’re so fat!”
“She’s not fat,” George said hotly. Aunt Dottie was plump and cuddly and George couldn’t imagine her any other way. Wouldn’twanther any other way.
“See?” Aunt Dottie twinkled at George. “She’s annoyed, so she takes it out on the nearest person, usually me. Just like a wasp, poor thing. It’s been like that ever since we were children in the nursery. I take no notice of her crotchets and you shouldn’t either.” She pored over a small dish of sweetmeats and selected one carefully. “Life is to be enjoyed, Aggie, and I enjoy every bit of mine. Do you?” She popped the sweet in her mouth and placidly resumed knitting.
There was a short silence, broken only by the sound of teaspoons clinking against teacups and the sound of crunching from behind the sofa. Emm raised her brow at George, who shook her head and looked at Cal, who tried to look innocent.
Avoiding his wife’s eye, he said, “Well, Aunt Agatha, don’t keep us in suspense—how did the duke respond to your proposal?”
George swallowed, feeling suddenly hollow. He couldn’t possibly have agreed to it—could he? She hadn’t given any thought to the duke’s reaction—she was only thinking of her aunt’s interference.
“He refused, of course, in no uncertain terms. No gentleman,” she added with thinly disguised satisfaction, “would want an ill-trained, boyish, impertinent hoyden for a wife.”
“Did he say that?” George flashed indignantly. “In so many words?”
Aunt Agatha arched a sardonic eyebrow. “What did you expect? That he wouldn’t notice your many inadequacies? I did my best, but...” She shook out her skirt, took hold of her ebony cane and rose. “I have other calls to make. Good day to you all. Ashendon...”
Cal rose and escorted his aunt from the room.
An ill-trained, boyish, impertinent hoyden. “How dare he! How dare she!” George jumped up and began to pace around the room. She didn’t know who she was angriest with—Aunt Agatha or the Duke of Everingham. She could happily shoot them both.
The knowledge that Aunt Agatha had offered her to him—and that he’d rejected her—even though she emphatically didn’t want him!—made her squirm with humiliation.
“It’s not for him to reject me! It’s for me to reject him.” The thought that she hadn’t had the chance to, that he had rejected her, unasked, was both mortifying and infuriating.
“He’s rather handsome, though, isn’t he?” Aunt Dottie had only seen him at the church, at his aborted wedding to Rose. “I do rather like a tall, dark, moody-looking man.”
“Handsome, perhaps,” George said. “And moody is right. He’s also cold, haughty, rude and arrogant. He looks down that long, aristocratic nose of his as if we’re all worms, beneath his notice.”
She’d only met him a handful of times, while his marriage to Rose was being arranged—and what a lucky escape for Rose that had been!—but she’d disliked him on sight.
“His friends—and he doesn’t seem to have many of them—call him Hart—his surname is Hartley—but he’s known in the ton as Heartless, and doesn’t that tell you something? Rose made a lucky escape, and I’m dam—” She broke off and glanced at Emm. “I’m blowed if I’ll be the sacrificial lamb in her place.” She clenched her fists. “Aunt Agatha had no right!”
“No, she didn’t,” Emm agreed. “And nobody will force you into marriage, dear, if you don’t want it.”
