Page 32 of A Scarred Wallflower for the Duke
Georgina gave her a pale smile. “You know the only thing Grandmother cares about is making you a duchess.”
Lydia huffed. She sank back onto the settle and folded her arms. Georgina took that as a sign that she knew her older sister was right. “Well,” she said. “Now I am even more set against marrying the man.” She took hold of Georgina’s wrist, shaking firmly until she released her needle. “We need to see this plan through, Georgie. We need to get the Duke out of our lives. Clearly, what we are doing is not working. So we need to step up our game somewhat.”
Georgina managed a tiny smile. “Oh yes? And what exactly will that entail?”
“I do not know yet,” Lydia blustered. “But I will think of something. I will make sure that scoundrel is gone from our lives forever.”
ChapterEighteen
“Wedding dresses?” said Georgina. “Do you not think that a little premature, Grandmother?”
“Nonsense.” The Dowager Viscountess took her seat at the head of the breakfast table. She had that determined look in her eye that Georgina knew all too well. “There is no harm in being prepared.” She turned to Lydia. “I am sure His Grace will be officially asking for your hand shortly, my dear. And once that happens, we will want to waste no time in seeing you married.” She nodded her thanks to the footman as he filled her cup from the teapot. “And the same goes for you, Georgina. I am sure I need not tell you how fortunate you are that Lord Renshaw has shown an interest in you.”
Lydia shook her fist. “Lord Renshaw. The scoundrel.”
The Dowager Duchess sighed to show her boredom. “Oh Lydia, that is enough. One can only be heartbroken for so long when she has a Duke wishing to make her his wife.”
Lydia pursed her lips and sipped her tea indignantly.
“In any case,” their grandmother pressed on, “I have made an appointment for us all to meet with the seamstress later this afternoon.” She shook her head stiffly, and Georgina could tell she was thinking about the Cream Jug Incident. “As far as I am concerned, the sooner I see you both settled down and married, the better.”
* * *
“We really ought to have seen this coming,” Georgina murmured to her sister as they stood side by side in the seamstress’s parlor later that day. The elderly woman stood beside Lydia, wrapping her tape measure around her waist. She jotted down the measurements on a tiny notepad in her apron. Then her eyes darted between Georgina and the Dowager Viscountess, who was overseeing the operation from a chair in the corner of the room.
“Two wedding gowns, My Lady?” the seamstress asked, uncertain.
“Yes. That is correct.”
“Very well.” Tape measure in hand, the seamstress moved on to Georgina.
Lydia glanced at her sister, nodding. “I know. We really should have seen it coming.” Georgina thought of all the money they were about to spend on a wedding gown for her—a gown she was never going to use.
I really ought to say something.
She knew the family’s finances were healthy enough. But they certainly did not need the added expense of a wedding gown for someone who would never be a bride.
I cannot bear to think what Grandmother would say if she found out the truth. She would be so disappointed in us.
At least Lydia would be happy, married to the man she loved. And that, Georgina reminded herself, was what this whole sorry debacle had been about from the beginning.
“And what style of gown did you have in mind?” the seamstress asked, glancing at Georgina, before pinning her gaze back to Lydia.
“Cream-colored lace,” Lydia began. “With floral embroidery on the bottom. Silver thread, perhaps. I think that will work nicely. And a little rouching at the collar. A single row of buttons down the back.”
Georgina smiled to herself. She was not at all surprised at how much thought Lydia had put into the issue. No doubt she had been planning her wedding gown since she was a child—or at least since she had made Lord Renshaw’s acquaintance.
The seamstress scrawled down Lydia’s extensive list of demands. She turned to Georgina. “And for you, Miss Wyatt?”
Georgina hesitated. “I really have no idea,” she admitted.
“Oh Georgina,” sighed her grandmother. “Honestly. Anyone would think you were not interested in taking a husband.” She turned to the seamstress. “You will have to excuse my granddaughter. Her upcoming marriage has come about very quickly. It seems she has not yet had time to adjust to the idea.”
“Grandmother, I really think it prudent that we wait a little longer before beginning work on my wedding gown. After all, Lord Renshaw has not even asked for my hand yet.” She lowered her eyes, deciding to play the pity card. “And we all know there is every chance he may change his mind about courting me.”
The Dowager Viscountess was silent for a moment, and Georgina could tell she was considering her proposal. “Nonsense,” she said suddenly. “He will do no such thing.” She gave Georgina a pointed look that said,Provided you behave yourself.She flapped a hand in the seamstress’s direction. “Show her some of your earlier designs.”
“Yes, My Lady.” The seamstress hurried to the desk at the back of the room and produced a large leather-bound book. She placed it in front of Georgina and began to turn through the pages. It was full of design sketches. “Each of these wedding gowns were made for young ladies of your class, Miss Wyatt. I am sure you will find something to your liking.”
