Page 13 of Ironvine

This, now, was no game.

“Georgie, he has an elegant air about him, does he not?” murmured Philippa. “He is a most attractive man.”

“He is not.”

“How silly you are,” her mother’s voice lashed at her. “What matters is what kind of man he is.”

“You have been discussing this, planning this for some time? Without telling me?”

“We want the best for you, my darling.” Her sister turned slightly to greet a passing friend. “Oh, hello, how lovely to see you…”

Georgina averted her gaze to the elegant couples lining up for a dance in the centre of the grand room. Was all of this to be now taken away from her? She thought she had time still. Plenty of time. Plenty of opportunities.

There was no more plenty.

Her own family had chosen for her, had made plans for her future, and Georgina had no choice. No voice.

When had sharing all things changed in their family? How could she not have noticed?

Her mother moved closer to her. “The time has come for you to be settled with a husband and not to be taken up with frivolous pursuits which waste your time.”

“Frivolous pursuits? Like father’s you mean? I am glad to be like him. Father was more a free thinker than most. He—”

“Stop this instant. Sir Reginald is a most suitable husband for you, and you shall settle very well with him.”

Settle? Suitable? Sensible?

Despicable sentiments, hateful words.

“I do not agree.”

“It’s already been agreed upon,” her mother’s voice snapped at her. “’Tis done.”

“Done?”

“And you cannot undo it. Your time has come to do your duty as a daughter, like all of us have.” Her mother’s words pierced her like a flaming arrow.

Philippa joined them. “Shh, there he is now with John.”

Her sister’s husband, John, approached them along with Sir Reginald. Georgina’s heart thudded in her chest, her lips pressed together.

Now she looked at the man with new eyes. Eyes that noticed every detail of him in a different way. Slightly stooped upper back, a paunch to his middle. His face mottled with red, his eyes small, a shiny new wig. His clothes were very fine, perhaps too fine. His shoe buckles polished. He had an air of confidence, or was it pomposity?

Georgina’s back straightened as the two men reached them. An unusually charged smile pushed up John’s lips as his arm gestured out to her.

Georgina’s flesh prickled as if she were bare naked to the world at this very moment.

“Good evening, Miss Georgina.” Sir Reginald bent his head at her, and she did the same.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Mrs. Townsend. Mrs. Holyfloke.” Sir Reginald bowed his head at Mother and Philippa. “Such a pleasure to meet here in London, is it not?” He cast another appreciative gaze at Georgina. “A great pleasure, indeed.”

Mother and Philippa agreed with him, and they all laughed together. Georgina said nothing. Her mind feverishly clacked away, imagining she and Sir Reginald living together, him touching her, those lips kissing her, him undressing her, rutting over her, demanding of her, delivering his babies one after the other…

“I do hope you will be free to dance with Georgina this evening?” Philippa’s suddenly arch voice extended. “That is, if you are not otherwise engaged, of course?”

John cast his wife a sharp look. Philippa couldn’t contain herself, but realising she had said a mite too much, her fingers tightened over her fan.

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