Page 30 of Ironvine

Philippa let out a gasp. “Oh no! No!”

Georgina’s heart thudded in her chest. She had saved herself indeed.

“This is a terrible wound to bear,” her sister exclaimed. “John and I have always taken care of you, Georgina, always done our very best for you. And how do you behave when it matters the most? The one time we required your obedience and gratitude? Willfully. Recklessly. How shall I ever forgive you? How shall we recover?”

“If he does not come tomorrow,” John bit out, his low voice a beacon of doom.

Georgina’s mouth dried, and she cast her eyes downward.

Hugh will come, she thought. He will.

Her hands clenched tightly in her lap.He must.

ChapterTwelve

Georgina

The next morning,Georgina woke early, dressed, and readied herself. One had to be prepared. And she would be. Prepared for the road of her choosing. The road of her own making. Success or failure.

She had breakfast alone. Georgina could barely swallow the bread she’d buttered and slathered with jam as she did every morning. Thankfully, her mother took her breakfast in her room as was her wont, as did Philippa. No sign of John or Thomas.

She went to the drawing room, read her book, but barely understood the words. She sketched, but hardly knew what she drew. Thomas and John entered the drawing room as her gaze went to the clock for the hundredth time. It was nearly eleven.

The servant entered, and she held her breath. “The Earl of Ryvves and Mr. Charles Montclare for Miss Georgina.”

John’s brow furrowed. “Bring them through.”

The servant left, and her pulse beat like a heavy drum. Her brother eyed her as she stood, her fingertips smoothing down her dress.Now it all begins.

The door opened, and the servant ushered in Charles, his demeanor cool and crisp, holding a thick leather folder, and Hugh, unruffled and at ease, followed. They greeted her brother and John, and both their gazes finally settled on her. She bowed her head, her face heating.

“Miss Georgina, it is wonderful to see you in the light of day.” Hugh took her hand and brushed it with a delicate kiss. “You are radiant.”

“Miss Georgina.” Charles bowed, his face remaining shuttered. Her heart shrank.

She gave her intended a brilliant smile as he handed her a small bouquet of blossoms. “I thank you, my lord. They are beautiful.”

The Montclare brothers settled in the armchairs opposite her and John, and Thomas stood behind her. Charles glanced at her, a sober, heavy look, and swiftly averted his gaze.

“We trust you have recovered from last evening’s many entertainments?” John crossed his legs.

Hugh let out a warm chuckle. “I shan’t ever recover, Mr. Holyfloke. Seeing Miss Georgina there last night, a brilliant gem amongst pebbles, I remain in awe.”

“Did the two of you not know each other in the country?”

“We did, but the last time I saw Miss Georgina, she was but a child. Now she is in the full bloom of womanhood.”

“My brother traveled the Continent quite a bit once he came of age,” said Charles. “He was rarely at home.”

Thomas sniffed in air. “Indeed, rarely.”

A silence filled the room, but Hugh didn’t seem to care. He boldly held Georgina’s gaze, grinning at her. “I have come today to ask for Miss Georgina’s hand in marriage. Undoubtedly I am but one suitor among very many worthy candidates, but I entreat you to consider my proposal above all others.”

Charles sat stoically, his jaw sharp, his features tight. They were all playing this game now, they had to utter and exchange all the proper niceties to fulfill society’s demands. They had to impress John, that was a hard fact, but even John knew this was all bluster and dissembling.

They played on.

“Your high regard, my lord, is an honour I dared not dream of,” said Georgina. “With all humility and great joy, I most gladly accept this great honour.”

---