His Mistletoe Marchioness. Georgie Lee
she was here. She wasn’t about to follow Lady Pariston’s advice, but she was at a loss for her own ideas about what to do. She needed her rest if she was going to face more of it tomorrow. Heaven knew this was not how she’d expected this week to be.
‘You and Lord Delamare were quite silent at dinner last night,’ Anne remarked, taking the empty seat beside Clara in the sitting room where all the guests were gathering for the traditional partnering for the week’s activities. The ladies wore their sturdy pelisses and shoes and held their leather gloves in anticipation of an outside game. The weather had remained pleasant if not cold and everyone was sure the Tillmans would take advantage of it to amuse their guests. The men were equally bundled up in heavier coats and redingotes, but everyone had undone the top few buttons to keep from sweltering in the warm sitting room.
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