Chapter 33 - GEORGINA—PARADE OF MEN

Chapter 33

GEORGINA—PARADE OF MEN

The duke’s red study was filled with men. I sat off to the right of his desk in the corner with Scarlett. She’d taken out a quill to score candidates.

“Such a collection, all here for you,” she said.

Wasn’t sure they were here for me or the food or the circus-like atmosphere. Tall and short, big-boned and skinny, Black, Brown, and White—all God’s children were in my sight, hunting for a wife.

This was the duke’s science meeting gone wild.

Country-looking fellow, red from working in the sun, decked in his church-best—onyx tailcoat and black glossed boots—stood off to the side eating my biscuits, the batch I’d made this morning.

“He owns a large farm beyond London,” Scarlett said.

“I guess wealth was the price of admission.”

She nodded and shuffled through her notes. I stared at all my suitors.

Dandies with ideas on chemistry appeared in bright-colored regalia—waistcoats of stripes, strawberry reds, and silky starched shirt collars.

I wondered whose physiques were true or cinched with a girdle. Mr. Thom said they did that over here. He’d seen all manner of things on his coal routes.

Katherine couldn’t stomach this process. She drove a coal route today. Mr. Thom needed assistance with our growing business. I think my sister still hoped to pay the duke back. Miracles happened, but I doubted Wilcox Coal could gain enough income before the ball.

“Georgina, I think that’s Lord Fellows. Second son, man of science. I see him at the lectures held by ministers of the Royal Society.”

Ah. The peers would come.

The second and third sons of the impoverished ton—well, they looked that way with high-set noses and the air of wishing to be set apart.

The only member of Tavis’s family who came to visit was a distant cousin in line to inherit Tavis’s title. The gentleman, with his perfectly starched cravat and tasteful dark waistcoat that said notice me but stay back, offered polite conversation and then quickly left.

Oh, goodness. He was here, sitting in the rear near the grand bookcase with one of my Cornish Fairings in his greedy hands.

“The duke must’ve promised a very large dowry to get such a show.” Scarlett’s voice stung. The good feelings I tried to hold on to slipped away.

With one of my new sleek slippers, I stepped on my own foot. Clad in the silver satin slippers and a dress of light rose lace and silk, I might not look the part of someone important, but I was. I, Georgina Wilcox, mattered and that care-for-nothing family of Tavis’s needed to be gone.

“What are you doing, Georgie?”

“Waving to Mr. Steele.”

The duke’s man came to me. When I had his ear, I whispered, “I need you to rid the room of refuse.”

He looked confused, then I pointed to the new Lord Hampton. “Take the waste out. Toss the new viscount to the street or drop him in a coal chute. And make sure he has no more biscuits.”

His brow wrinkled, then Mr. Steele nodded, his face filling with a wonderful, malevolent grin.

With a clap of his hands, groomsmen appeared and hauled the affronted man out of the study.

The Wilcoxes had enviable connections. Joy and pride swept through me . . . until I saw Mark and his friend entering the room.

* * *

I settled into the corner, behind the duke’s desk, looking longingly out the window at the maze. “Scarlett, perhaps we should take a walk. Get some air. It’s very sunny today.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you move. You will not run. You’re worthy of being sought after. You’re a prize, even if the man you regard can’t see that. Now let the scientific process select a proper candidate.”

With her quill extended, she tapped my nose. “You can still reject the winner at the duke’s ball. For once, you have control.”

Yes. I did.

Instead of running, I sat up straight. “Let the games begin. Make sure you carry the one to get the right answer.”

My sister smiled and I did too. It felt good to have her here. “I’ll be with you every step, Georgie. So, let’s get this process right.”

For a moment, she gripped my elbow, then she slipped into her investigative posture, quill threaded through her fingers, papers in her lap covering her robin-blue skirt.

Finished with refuse duty, Mr. Steele returned with the duke. Immaculately dressed, easy in his stride, His Grace glanced at us and his diverse selection of candidates, then took his seat at the desk. “Ladies. Gentlemen. I’m so glad you could join us. For the past few weeks, many of you have submitted yourselves to interviews to be recommended to the heiress Miss Georgina Wilcox.”

Welp. That meant the duke had put up a lot of money on my behalf.

Scarlett poked me with her elbow. “The Earl of Livingston is here.”

Why? I thought he was against marriage.

“Don’t frown, Georgina. Someone will think you are dismissing them.”

I was. Mark’s friend was garbage. “He’s surly.”

“Surly? He’s brilliant. I watched him lecture. Very detailed studies. He’s been helping the duke with the selection process.”

“No wonder this has been abominable. I doubt he could tell a good match if it were his boots.”

“Stop.” She smothered a giggle. “We must seem serious, sober in our thoughts. We can gossip with Katherine later.”

The ache in my heart for my elder sister’s blessing stung anew. She’d never give it. I felt more understanding for Mark wanting the same from his family. He looked at me, then disappeared.

I thought he’d left Anya House but a glance out the window exposed him.

The way my heart fluttered exposed me.

His tortured piano playing had gone on long into the night. Part of me wanted to go to him then and try to make him understand why my marrying someone else was best.

A man would not understand. They could marry late. They’d never be looked down upon for being childless. They’d be slightly chided for having children out of wedlock.

London called single women like me a tall Meg, a spinster. Mark was young and his bachelorhood was celebrated. In twenty years, he too could marry Lydia and no one would think anything was wrong. Men had time to dither.

Not fair.

Yet when had it been for women—women like me?

Mark waved, curling his fingers as if to ask me to join him.

That would be scandalous to go and meet him where our troubles began.

Then I snapped to attention.

The duke began asking questions of the candidates.

Scarlett noted scores on the paper.

And I listened intently to each answer. One of these men could be the one I’d been waiting for, someone available now, ready to support the Wilcox family and my desires. My future husband deserved my undivided attention, not the lover I let walk away.