Page 67 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“An endless battle, I presume.”
She blinked at his amused and dismissive tone. Joanna’s fear might be a bit overwrought, but it was grounded in very real fact. “What do you mean?”
He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “You know perfectly well. She’s got that nervous disposition that always twitches and jumps in fear of what other people are saying about her.”
“She’s sweet!” protested Georgiana.
“I never said she wasn’t,” returned Sterling. “Merely that I expect she requires a great deal of assurance and comfort.” He sighed. “Pity her future husband. He’ll never know a moment’s peace.”
Georgiana frowned. The dance began, and she moved through the steps automatically. Sterling didn’t mean to be unkind, and yet... his words rankled. One of her dearest and oldest friends, Eliza Cross, was shy and quiet—not unlike Joanna. Eliza’s father was enormously wealthy though of very low birth. He’d long hoped Eliza would make a splendid match, and had spared no expense bringing her out, but Georgiana knew just how miserable Eliza had been during the one Season she’d had in town. All ladies were not the same; some were vivacious and charming, drawing in gentlemen regardless of their fortune or birth. Others were shy and withdrawn, and had no suitors... regardless of their fortune or birth.
“Joanna will make someone a wonderful wife,” she told Sterling when they joined hands again in the dance.
“Who? Oh, no doubt,” he said absently, nodding at someone in the crowd.
“It’s not fair to say she constantly needs assurance,” she argued. “You know as well as I that any silly, stupid rumor can cause people to drop an acquaintance. She’s kind and loyal, but she hasn’t got the sort of social position that can shrug at cruel gossip.”
“Then she ought not to strive so hard to be part of society,” he said in surprise. “Darling, you know thetoncan be vicious. Anyone who can’t weather their storms ought to find a placid country squire and settle in Hertfordshire.”
The dance separated them again. Georgiana seethed with discontent. Was he right? Would Joanna be happier if she abandoned the fashionable, but sometimes snobby,ton? Eliza had hated it, but now Eliza was the Countess of Hastings; she was no longer snubbed, and she no longer said she hated London. A little confidence, and the support of her husband and his family, had made a vast difference. Not in Eliza herself—she was still much as she had been before—but in theton’s reception of her.
Now that Georgiana thought of it, Sterling had never cared to meet Eliza until she became a countess. At the time she had thought more of Eliza’s shyness and dread of London, but now she realized Sterling had never once asked to be introduced to her friend. The same was true of Sophie. Only after her marriage had Sterling gone to make her acquaintance.
“That is too harsh,” she told Sterling when they came back together. “To say anyone who can’t thrive among the most haughty members of thetonought to surrender and scuttle off to Hertfordshire. By that accounting only the most fortunate few would remain, and we both know they would turn on each other eventually.”
His brows shot up. “What’s caused this? You haven’t been the object of some stupid rumor, have you?”
“What would you do if I had been?” She raised her chin. “If people began whispering that I was a simpleton, or had no sense, or no style?”
“They never would!” he exclaimed in astonishment.
“But if they did.” She wet her lips. “If people looked askance at you, and wondered why you were marrying me, would you leap to my defense, or would you begin to wonder yourself?”
Pique flashed across his face. “What’s got into you tonight? I’ve never heard so much philosophical nonsense from you. Are you outraged over what I said about Miss Hotchkiss? I humbly apologize, my dear.”
He was only sorry that she pursued the matter. He didn’t really see what she meant, or why she was troubled on Joanna’s behalf. Georgiana said nothing, turning to her next partner in the dance and trying not to let her turmoil show. Quite against her will, she wondered what Rob would say if she asked him the same thing.
No.It did not matter one bit what Rob thought or would say. This was about her and Sterling and whether she still wanted to marry him.
That thought caught her utterly off guard, and nearly made her trip over her own feet. She couldn’t even remember when she hadn’t wanted to marry Sterling. It had simplybeenfor so long... but this might be the first time she actually pictured their future life together.
Georgiana knew she was one of the fortunate people. She had an illustrious name and had been left a very respectable fortune by her parents. She knew she was attractive as well, and she was neither shy nor awkward with others. She had been excited to come to London, thrilled by the adventure of it, delighted by the glittering world of theton. And she had, for lack of a better word, thrived.
But she had also been an orphan for most of her life. She knew what it felt like to be alone and uncertain of where she belonged. When Alistair sent her off to Mrs. Upton’s Academy for Young Ladies at the age of eight, she had been entirely alone. The other girls weren’t impressed by her name, her father’s title, or her wealth, for they all came from similarly elite families. Georgiana had learned that being kind and amusing and loyal made her a much-desired friend. Her instincts had been honed over ten years there, not only into the graceful deportment Mrs. Upton taught, but also into keen awareness of everyone else’s perception of her.
Sterling, unsurprisingly, was less mindful. Not only was he a man—and a handsome, clever one at that—he was heir to an earl. There was nothing to mock about Sterling. He was used to leading society, not chasing it.
The same could all be said of Rob, of course. She herself had called him malicious and arrogant.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She wasnotcomparing Sterling to Rob, who had surely recovered his former antipathy for society misses like herself. This was about wondering what it would be like to be Sterling’s wife in reality, not in the watercolor vignette of their future she had composed in her mind.
The dance ended and Sterling gave her his arm again. “Will you walk with me?” she asked on impulse.
“Of course, my dear.” He made a motion with one hand, and Georgiana saw a mate of his grimace in disappointment.
“Am I keeping you from something?”
“Bristow can wait,” he said easily. “He’s not half so lovely as you are.”
