Page 110 of Ironvine

“Zandra—” the Duke’s clear voice rang out from the other end of the long table. “You must hear what Graven just told me.”

“Do tell me, darling.”

Georgina’s grip on her fork tightened.Zandra?Zandra, Cassandra. She let out a tight breath, her pulse humming. Z. It was her. The love letters in Hugh’s possession were from the Duchess.

At long last, the desserts were brought to the table. An astonishing assortment of ices, colourful cream tarts, fluffy syllabubs, and exotic fruits. Georgina chose a lemon syllabub and it was placed before her.

“Tell me, Lady Ryvves, do you know Mrs. Treharne well?” asked the Duchess.

The Duchess had questions about Amanda, just as Georgina thought she might.

“Mrs. Treharne and her husband were close friends with my elder brother and my husband from childhood. We all grew up together here in the country.”

“Pity, for one so young and attractive to be a widow.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure if she wished to marry again she would have no problem finding a suitor.”

Georgina dipped her spoon into her syllabub. “Ah, Mrs. Treharne has never had …” Pursing her lips, she put her spoon down.I mustn’t gossip about Amanda with the Duchess.She must remain steady, neutral.

“Yes?” She tilted her head. She was looking forward to Georgina’s remark.

“I quite agree, she would have no problem finding a suitor. She’s very beautiful.”

The Duchess let out a sardonic laugh. “You, my dear, are quite lovely. And not only your physical beauty, no, your spirit commends you.” Her heavily ringed hand reached out and touched Georgina’s. Cool, silky, light. A small smile lit the woman’s lips. Georgina’s face heated and she wasn’t sure why. “You and I shall make great friends while we are here, I can feel it.” She raised her wine glass to Georgina. A bond of understanding had been made between them.

It’s what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?

Georgina raised her glass as well and drank, but the wine did not refresh her, it only warmed her further. She caught her husband’s tight gaze. She knew he was wary of her getting close to the Duchess. The Duke said something to Charles, who met his gaze and laughed. A false laugh. She could always tell when he did that.

The Duchess rose, signalling for all the ladies to retreat to the drawing room and leave the men to their smoking, drinking, and talk.

Georgina passed her husband on her way out of the dining room. He took up her hand, stopping her. Charles held her gaze as his warm lips brushed her hand, his fingers tightening their grip. Her breath shortened. Was it a warning?

“My Lord,” she whispered.

“Do not worry, Ryvves, your wife shall be safe with us.” Chuckling, the Duchess led Georgina and Justine out of the dining room, the other ladies before them.

A flash of pink showed underneath the Duchess’s dress. Georgina blinked. “What pretty shoes you are wearing, Your Grace.”

“Do you like them?”

“Pink is one of my very favourite colours, and I have never seen a shoe in such a bright happy colour.”

Except in that snuff box of Hugh’s.

She raised her dress an inch and showed them. “They are my favourite. I wear them on special occasions only, as they are rather delicate and the heel is high and not in fashion now, nor is it the most comfortable, but they are quite beautiful and I enjoy them greatly.”

“I only have one pair of higher-heeled shoes,” said Georgina. “And I agree, they are not the most comfortable, especially if one is dancing.”

“I am quite addicted to pretty shoes. I collect them, and I have so many buckles to choose from.”

“A delightful addiction if ever there was,” said Georgina.

“Luckily my husband enjoys indulging me in my addictions.”

He certainly does.

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