Historical Romance June 2017 Books 1 - 4. Annie Burrows
arrived first.
‘Thank you so much for the pleasure of that dance,’ he said, making a bow which included both the stepmother and Lady Havelock.
Mrs Wickford preened as her daughter sat down. She clearly thought Miss Mead had made her first conquest. Little did she know that Lord Freckleton was not interested in females in the slightest. He only sought out those his family would consider completely ineligible, or the perennial wallflowers who always drooped around the edges of the room, in an attempt to throw dust in their eyes.
‘Lord Ashenden,’ said Lord Freckleton next, giving him a mocking smile. ‘What an unexpected pleasure to see you here.’
Edmund couldn’t return the compliment. Lord Freckleton always eyed him with a little too much interest for his peace of mind.
And then the Major returned, with a flush-faced Georgiana on his arm, and Edmund’s lack of a smile turned into a decided scowl. At some point the Major must have got so close to her that he’d trodden on her hem because she was trailing half a yard of sparkling, gauzy stuff that clearly belonged with the rest of the flounces and frills adorning the lower quadrant of her gown.
‘My thanks for the dance,’ the Major said, bowing over her hand with a flourish. ‘Haven’t enjoyed one so much in ages. A pity you cannot stand up with me again. A great pity.’
‘Oh, but you have stood up with my stepdaughter twice already,’ Mrs Wickford protested with a false titter. ‘Besides, she is promised to Lord Freckleton for the next,’ she said with a great deal of satisfaction.
And then several things happened in rapid succession.
First, Georgiana’s blush turned a deeper shade of pink as she tugged her hand from the Major’s grip.
Which gave Edmund a strong urge to punch the smug, lecherous look off the Major’s face. And to upend her stepmother’s chair. He also wanted to rip off his coat, drape it round Georgiana’s exposed shoulders and take her somewhere safe.
And then, while he was still wrestling himself under control, Lord Freckleton shot the Major a withering glance and stepped forward, obliging the oaf to yield his ground as he extended his arm to Georgiana.
At which point Edmund saw that Lord Freckleton was exactly the sort of man Georgiana thought she wanted to marry. He would definitely leave Georgiana unmolested. Not only that, but Freckleton would probably be so grateful to any woman who would make it look as though he was doing his duty to his family name, whilst making no demands on him in that regard, he would probably be extremely generous. In his own way.
With just a word or two in Freckleton’s ear, and a short explanation to Georgiana about what kind of man he was, Edmund could arrange the kind of future she claimed she wanted.
He looked hard at Freckleton’s bland face. At his slender shoulders. His neatly manicured nails.
And his whole being revolted. A man like Freckleton might be able to provide Georgiana with what she thought she wanted. He’d leave her alone, right enough, but he would do so because he didn’t care about her. He would never stir himself to encourage her to live her life to the full. To strike off the shackles her stepmother had weighted her down with. In fact, he’d probably impose a whole new set of rules so that she could play the part he wanted her to play.
All of this flashed through his mind in less time than it took for Georgiana to lift her hand and place it on Freckleton’s sleeve.
Which meant that it never reached its destination. For Edmund intercepted her movement, taking her hand firmly in his and laying it on his own sleeve before she could make such a terrible mistake.
‘You won’t mind if I cut in, will you, Freckleton?’
Lord Freckleton raised his eyebrows, his eyes dancing with amusement.
‘I am not able to spend a great deal of time here tonight,’ said Edmund, tucking Georgiana’s hand possessively into the very crook of his arm. ‘You understand,’ he said, and then, without waiting for Freckleton’s reply, he tugged her in the direction of the dance floor before anyone could voice any objections.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ Georgiana asked as he led her inexorably to the bottom of the newest set that was forming.
‘I might ask you the same question,’ he retorted. Because he was angry. At himself for acting so impulsively, at Freckleton for being Georgiana’s answer even though she hadn’t yet asked him the question and at the Major for...being the Major. ‘You were smiling at him,’ he found himself growling, rather than saying anything to the point.
She frowned at him in confusion. ‘Who?’
‘Gowan,’ he snapped. ‘While you were dancing.’
‘Why should I not have been smiling at him?’
‘No reason, if you actually liked him. Which I thought not to be the case.’
‘Perhaps,’ she said through a grimace that showed all her teeth in the parody of a smile, ‘beggars cannot be choosers.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well,’ she said, dipping a curtsy as the music began, ‘do you see any other suitors clustering round me?’
He’d seen Freckleton. He would be a much better match for her, in some respects, than the Major. Not that he was ever going to let her find out, he decided as they formed a square and honoured their partners to the diagonal.
‘You have been in Town less than a month,’ he said when they next came close enough for him to say anything without the words being heard by the others in the set. She crooked one eyebrow at him as she turned and went back to her place.
‘You have plenty of time to meet eligible men,’ he said the next time he got the chance.
‘You know very well,’ she said with a brittle smile, ‘that I have no interest in meeting eligible men.’
‘So you intend to marry that great lump of beef then, do you? Oh, this is intolerable.’ One could not hold a rational conversation whilst dancing and this one went on for another three hours. Or at least, that was what it felt like. The moment it ended, he took Georgiana’s hand in a none-too-gentle grip and towed her in the direction of the refreshment room.
‘You are supposed to return me to my stepmother,’ she hissed up at him.
‘After two dances with the Major, and one with me, you are entitled to a drink of lemonade.’
‘Well, yes, I would be, if I wanted one,’ she pointed out.
‘Don’t be facetious. You can see I wish to talk to you. And one cannot hold a sensible conversation whilst capering about like a...like a...cricket.’
‘What,’ she asked as they passed through the doors that led to the refreshment room and took their place in the queue, ‘did you wish to talk to me about?’
He scanned the room for signs of either the Major or Freckleton, but there were none. They’d either gone to the card room, or left altogether. Both of which suited Edmund equally well.
‘Husbands,’ he said grimly. ‘I thought you did not wish to get married, but now you are positively encouraging the first man to show a decided interest in you.’
She shrugged her shoulders. Looked at a point somewhere beyond his left ear. ‘I have to face facts. I am going to have to marry somebody. And since there doesn’t seem to be much difference between one man and the next, I thought I just might as well get it over with as quickly as possible.’
‘Georgie, no.’ He gasped, his stomach roiling at the thought of those meaty great hands getting hold of what they so clearly wanted to grope. Of those blubbery lips slobbering all over her. Her face, her body...
‘No,’ he repeated, more decisively. ‘It is intolerable to think of you in his keeping.’
‘Well,