Page 48 of A Scarred Wallflower for the Duke
Lydia’s smile faded. It was as though for a moment, she had completely forgotten about Georgina’s affliction. She did not speak at once, but she slid her fingers through her sister’s and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Well,” she said finally, “then the lot of them are fools. They have no thought of what they are missing out on.”
* * *
“But I do not understand, Lydia,” said their grandmother asked again. “What went wrong? Why did His Grace not ask for your hand? His mother promised me he was to do so.”
Georgina rubbed her eyes. They were onto their second course of dinner, and the same question had taken up most of the conversation so far. The meal was beginning to feel interminable.
Lydia sliced her meat into minuscule pieces. “I told you, Grandmother. His Grace was set on us playing some foolish game. I just do not think he wishes to ask for my hand. I do not think a proposal is to be forthcoming. Perhaps we—”
“Nonsense.” The Dowager Viscountess flapped her hand at Lydia. “I have Her Grace’s word that a proposal will indeed be forthcoming. I have no reason to doubt her. If you ask me, His Grace just needs a swift kick in the backside to get him into action.” She glanced across the dinner table at Georgina. “And I might well say the same thing for Lord Renshaw. How long does he plan on dithering for?” She sighed dramatically. “Honestly, one could turn to dust waiting for these gentlemen to get themselves together.”
Georgina swapped nervous glances with her sister. She did not like where this was heading. Not one bit.
“It is time we put an end to this,” the Dowager Viscountess announced, waving a fork in her granddaughters’ direction. “We shall have Lord Renshaw and the Duke for dinner tomorrow night. Ask them outright about their intentions. No more dithering. And no more games.” She lifted her wine and took a tiny sip, peering at her granddaughters over the top of the glass. Gave them a smile Georgina assumed was supposed to be encouraging. “Do not worry, my dears. I shall see to it that, come tomorrow evening, both of you have a wedding to look forward to.”
* * *
“Oh, this is bad.” Lydia paced across the sitting room after dinner, wringing her hands in front of her. “This is very, very bad.”
Georgina perched on the edge of the armchair, drumming her fingers against the cover of the textbook in her lap. She had intended to work on her Latin in an attempt to take her mind off this ghastly dinner tomorrow night. Had not even got as far as opening the cover. How on earth were they going to wrangle their way out of these betrothals with their grandmother overseeing the situation like a hawk?
“Perhaps you can use the dinner to your advantage,” said Marcus, from the chair opposite Georgina. “You can both be as uncouth as possible to scare the Duke away.”
“No,” Lydia hissed. “We do not wish to scare the Duke away any longer.” She shook her head in frustration. “Honestly, Marcus, do try to keep up.”
Marcus frowned. “We don’t? Why not?”
“Because Georg—”
“Never mind scaring him away,” Georgina cut in before Lydia could give their brother a detailed recounting of her misguided affection for Vincent. “Marcus already told the Duke and Dowager Duchess that Lord Renshaw and I are to be married. How are we going to explain that to Grandmother?”
Lydia groaned. “Oh, I had forgotten about that. Oh, Georgie, Grandmother will crucify Peter if she believes he asked for your hand without telling her.” She buried her face in her hands. “Whatever are we going to do?”
Georgina sank back into the armchair, throwing her head back in resignation. This plan had seemed so simple when she had laid it out for Lydia the day before their jaunt to the park. Now the whole thing was a tangled mess that it seemed they would never escape from.
“I think perhaps it is time we accepted our fate,” she sighed. “Lord Renshaw can tell Grandmother he has changed his mind about marrying me. And you…” She swallowed heavily, forcing away the waver in her voice. It would do Lydia no good to hear it. “You will live a fine life as a duchess.”
“No, Georgie, please.” Tears slipped down Lydia’s cheeks. She turned to her brother. “Is there nothing you can do, Marcus?” she asked desperately.
Marcus gave her apologetic eyes. “Against Grandmother? I am sorry, Lydia. You know when she has her heart set on something, there is no way around it.”
“But…” Lydia faded out, her shoulders drooping. Georgina could tell she had finally come to accept that they had failed.
Georgina reached for her hand. “It shan’t be so bad, Lydia. The Duke… he is a good and decent man. I am sure he will treat you well.”
“But I love Peter,” Lydia cried, tears rushing down her cheeks. “I cannot marry another man. I just cannot do it.”
And Georgina pulled her into her arms and held her tightly, burying her face in Lydia’s shoulder so her brother and sister would not see her cry.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Vincent was silent on the coach ride to Thomson House. His stomach was rolling. He could not remember ever feeling this way—so unsettled and unsure of himself. Then again, he had never been in love with anyone before either.
He felt as though he was approaching the executioner. Knew well that, by the end of tonight, his mother and the Dowager Viscountess would expect him to be engaged to Lydia. No doubt that was what this dinner was about. Did Lady Thomson expect a grand proposal, with all the family watching? WithGeorginawatching? Vincent could not think of anything more horrible.
And yet, a promise was a promise.
From the other side of the carriage, his mother looked over at him with concern. “You look pale, my dear. Are you certain you are not unwell? Do you have a fever?”
