Page 11 of No Mistress Of Mine

“Rather well, for we have at last found a suitable venue,” Georgiana replied. “At least,” she added, looking at the woman opposite, “I think it will suit. Lady Conyers, the hospital fund is your committee’s responsibility. What do you think of my idea?”

“Oh, my dear, I am relieved.” His mother gave a deep sigh, pressing a hand to her bosom. “And so glad I enlisted your aid. I confess, when you first told me your idea, I was not enthused. But now that we have toured the grounds, I am able to see your vision, and I believe you are quite right. Lady Belsham, what is your opinion?”

The Marchioness of Belsham, an older, perhaps more rigid version of her daughter, gave a nod of agreement. “The greatest obstacle, of course, might have been Lord Bute.”

“Lord Bute?” Denys echoed in surprise. “Where is this flower show to be?”

Georgiana was the one to enlighten him. “Regent’s Park, in the garden at St.John’s Lodge, which is owned, as I’m sure you know, by Lord Bute, who has agreed to allow the event to be held there. I do hope the venue proves a success, Lady Conyers.”

“Of course it will,” his mother answered warmly, and turned to Denys. “Georgiana’s choice in such matters is impeccable.”

Georgiana waved aside the compliment with the tactful complacency of one who seldom had occasion to be wrong. “The important thing is the funds raised, and if it works as we hope, this show will bring a great deal of money to the London hospitals.” She lifted her long, graceful hands and crossed her fingers. “Unless it rains.”

Denys studied her for a moment, trying to imagine that particular possibility, and failed utterly. Anything Georgiana involved herself in always proved a success. If she rode in a point to point, she won. If she hunted, she brought down more grouse than her father. And if she deemed an outdoor venue appropriate for a flower show, Denys couldn’t see even the traitorous English weather defying her. “It won’t rain,” he told her. “It wouldn’t dare.”

She smiled at that. “There will be tents, of course. But everything will go so much better if the day is fine.” She turned to his mother. “An Afternoon-at-Home is next, I think. We should arrange it at once, before Mama and I return to Kent.”

“Kent?” Denys echoed in surprise. “I thought you were to be in town for the entire season.”

“We are, but we still have so much to finish at home before we settle into the house in Cavendish Square. We only came up to town to assist your mother.”

He wondered if he might be the reason for Georgiana’s willingness to help with a charity that wasn’t her own, but he dismissed the thought. Georgiana loved charity work. “There’s the Bring and Buy for the church tower,” she went on, proving his point. “And the Sale of Work for orphans, and, of course, the village school. We simply must find a new teacher.”

“It seems I won’t be seeing you for ages,” he remarked, and as he spoke, he felt rather relieved. Lola and Georgiana were two distinct parts of his life: the past and—possibly—the future. He deemed it best they not collide in the present.

“We shall only be away for two weeks,” she assured him, and turned to her mother. “But don’t you think, Mama, that an Afternoon-at-Home is the perfect paving of the way for Lady Conyers’s flower show?”

“I do,” Lady Belsham replied at once. “We shall be able to inform all our friends of the hospitals’ dire need for funds.”

“Just so,” her daughter replied. “And yet, we must also provide an atmosphere of infinite leisure in which our friends are completely at ease. There must be the right mix of people, as well as good food and plenty of excellent champagne.”

“Thus priming them perfectly to pull out their bank books,” Denys added in amusement.

Georgiana gave him a look of reproof. “I wouldn’t put it quite so bluntly as that.”

Of course not, for Georgiana was never blunt. Subtlety and restraint were in every inch of her. He continued to study her as they dined, while they discussed his mother’s flower show, and it struck him—not for the first time—what a perfect wife she would make. She was well-bred, intelligent, loyal—

But not the least bit exciting.

The moment that pesky little thought crossed his mind, he quashed it by reminding himself he was done with excitement. To fulfill his duty to his name and title, he needed to marry, and in that regard, Georgiana was as close to ideal as a man could find. He could think of no reason not to marry her.

A ringing endorsement.

“Denys?”

“Hmm?” He came out of these contemplations to find the object of them looking at him inquiringly. “Sorry. I was woolgathering, I’m afraid. What did you say?”

She gestured to his plate. “I asked if you were finished. We really must be on our way if we’re to do any shopping today.”

“Of course.” He set aside his napkin and hailed the waiter, and minutes later, he was assisting the ladies into a taxi.

“Are you certain you won’t come with us?” Georgiana asked him through the window.

“Shopping in Mount Street?” He made a great show of looking appalled. “I’d rather work.”

“A gentleman shouldn’t work at all,” she said, frowning a little. “Especially during the season. Surely you can take time away from that beastly office? We could forgo our shopping,” she offered, and glanced at her companions. “Couldn’t we?”

Despite the eager assent of their mothers, Denys had to refuse. “I am flattered by the sacrifice, ladies,” he said, smiling, “but I’m afraid I have far too much on my plate today.Othellois coming up at the Imperial, you know, and it’s the first play of the season. There’s a great deal to do.”

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