Chapter Seventeen

It was mid-May now, and they were into the fourth week of the Season.

And not a single gentleman had caught Georgie's attention.

She picked up the letter in her lap from Mirella. She had only written her sister once since the Season began. She had also written everyone at Shadowcrest one letter, but that included Aunt Matty, Effie, Lyric, Allegra, Miss Feathers, and Caleb—as well as Mirella. It was hard finding time to steal away from her social obligations to play the pianoforte for half an hour each day, much less write so many letters.

Still, she knew Mirella was feeling left out. Possibly even lonely. She owed it to her sister to write again. She would encourage Mirella to share the letter with the others, hopefully keeping them happy, having heard from her.

Placing the letter in a box where she stored special correspondence, she went to her mother's sitting room. Mama was just leaving the room.

"May I use your desk?" she asked. "I am going to write to Mirella."

"Of course. Give your sister my love. I am about to meet with the Powells. We still have so much to do regarding James and Sophie hosting a ball. I want to chat with them about decorations. The food to be served. And a few additions to the guest list, which has already been sent out."

"Enjoy, Mama. I know this is the kind of thing you have always loved doing."

Her mother nodded. "I do love to entertain, especially when it is a ball. It has been so long since one was held in this house. It is about time we brought Polite Society back to our doorstep."

Georgie sat at the desk, withdrawing fresh paper and opening the inkwell. She thought a moment, and then she began to write.

Dearest Mirella –

I am sorry it has taken so long to write to you. You will understand next year when you are caught up in the social whirl of the Season. I have truly missed having you here with me. I hope your bones are healing nicely and that the fresh country air is doing you good.

I had to laugh when you wrote of how you are practicing the pianoforte with one hand! It must sound odd, playing only the melody to songs without the accompanying chords. Still, I know how much pleasure music brings you, so keep up what you are doing.

You did not mention if you were painting. I hope you are since your right hand is intact. I miss the smell of your paints. Seeing a smudge of it on your cheek. Viewing your finished landscapes. I hope being at Shadowcrest has brought inspiration to your art.

While I am enjoying the events we are attending, I have yet—after a month—to find a gentleman who speaks to my heart. Well, that is not entirely correct. I know you met Lord Edgethorne when you were here. I will admit (only to you) that I am attracted to him.

We kissed, Mirella. My first kiss. It was as Pippa described to me, something that is... indescribable. She said I would have to experience it for myself because it is difficult to explain, not just the physical aspects of a kiss, but the emotional connection you feel to the gentleman who kisses you.

Alas, Lord Edgethorne is as obstinate and uncompromising as anyone I have ever met. He has it in his head that, because of how his injuries have altered his appearance, he would not appeal to me. That is far from the truth. I have had to learn to respect his wishes, though, and watch him dance with other women at balls. I have been fortunate; I have not lacked for partners. But no gentleman has held my attention as Lord Edgethorne. None of them hold a candle to him.

I have decided I will simply continue as if nothing is wrong. I meet new individuals at every event I attend. I am enjoying myself. Music and dancing are a part of a majority of the events held, so you know I am happy in that respect.

Mama has convinced James and Sophie that we need to hold a ball. It has been decided it will take place the second week of June. Even as I write this, Mama is meeting with the Powells and Cook, creating a menu (the invitations have already gone out).

She says it will be a good way for Polite Society to meet James and Sophie, through them hosting an event in their own home. Each guest will pass through the receiving line, so they will get to speak to James and Sophie for a brief time. Sophie is letting Mama handle everything since she has experience in planning a large event.

As for Sophie herself, her face is growing rounder. If she turns and her gown clings to her, you can see her burgeoning belly. The styles of the day usually hide it. She has said that after this ball, she and James will most likely withdraw to the country. She meets with Mr. Barnes every afternoon, sorting out business. It is Mr. Barnes who will be in charge of Neptune Shipping while Sophie is away. She is hoping, since Shadowcrest is not so far from town, that he will come down every few weeks and catch her up on important things.

Mama and I will stay in town until the Season concludes, of course. I had hoped by now Mama might have formed an attachment. That is not the case. She has been incredibly popular, though. Our drawing room has been filled with as many suitors vying for her hand as have come to see me. Mama confided that she is having the time of her life, so I am happy for her in that regard. As to whether or not she will decide to wed again, that is anyone's guess.

That is all my news for now. Please give everyone my love and share the contents of this letter with them (except the part about Lord Edgethorne). It is difficult to find time to write to so many of you. I look forward to coming home to the country and suppose you and I will do a Season together next year, since it seems as if love is not on my horizon this year.

All my love,

Georgie

She read through the letter once, making certain she had not left anything out. She would let the ink dry and give it to a footman to post.

As she waited, she went and practiced her pianoforte for half an hour, playing pieces Mirella enjoyed, feeling close to her sister. She missed her sisters and her cousins dreadfully, more than she would have imagined. Georgie only hoped that Allegra and Lyric had decided to proceed with their own come-outs next spring.

After giving the letter to Dursley to post, she remembered it was Tuesday. Mama had designated this day as the one where they would not be at home to callers. She had told Georgie and Sophie that it was important to make time to rest and recover from all the events. Sophie would meet with Mr. Barnes and then nap in preparation of the evening's activities. Since Mama was still busy with the Powells, Georgie decided to go sit in the private park on the square.

She had not been to it since she had been kissed by Lord Edgethorne.

*

August was sittingin his study, idly looking out the window, when he heard a knock at the door.

"Come," he said.

Wilson appeared, clearing his throat. "It is Lord Blankenship, my lord. Here to see you."

He cursed under his breath. Blankenship had written to August three times. He had ignored each of the notes and avoided his old friend at the few events he'd attended.

"Send him in," he grumbled, hoping he would soon be rid of the viscount.

"Lord Blankenship," announced Wilson.

Apparently, his friend had accompanied Wilson to the study's door, because he breezed in immediately and took a seat opposite August. Wilson closed the door.

"I would ask you to sit, but you have already done so before being invited."

"Don't be a curmudgeon. You used to be fun, August."

"I also used to have another eye and three more fingers," he said drily. "Perhaps they are what made me so fun and carefree."

Blankenship's look turned sympathetic. "I am sorry for that, August. No one should have to suffer what you have gone through."

"I don't need your sympathy. Or your pity," he barked.

"Can't I merely express my sorrow without you biting my head off?" his friend countered. "Come, August. We were once the closest of friends."

"That was before the war. Before everything changed."

He grew quiet, thinking over how he should be grateful Blankenship had come to see him.

"I am sorry I ignored your notes," he said gruffly.

"Why did you?"

"Because it is all so different now. You stayed here in England. I never understood what safety meant. Stability. The peace of a country day." He swallowed. "War is harsh, Silas. If you knew what it was like, you would not wish it upon your worst enemy."

They sat in silence for several minutes before August spoke again.

"I am sorry I have pushed you away. I knew you wanted to be around your old friend, but that jovial, carefree young man no longer exists. Battle beat that out of me. To live in fear—knowing you could perish at any moment—that changes a man. And not for the better."

He met his friend's gaze. "I cannot be who I once was, Silas."

"I am not asking you to, August. I merely want my friend. Yes, the man scarred by battle. The man who has seen death and lived to tell about it. We had our fun. There may still be some in our futures. But I need you, August. You. Whatever version of you which I can have."

August put a hand to his face, emotions getting the better of him. "I do not know how you can bear to look at me."

"You look much the same to me. Slightly older. Hardened. I know the war has done that to you."

He dropped his hand. "But these scars. They are hideous, Silas. I hate how I look."

"And yet there are those who do not see them. Such as Lady Georgina."

August stilled.

"I will admit it was a shock to see your new appearance the opening night of the Season. But when I speak with you, August, I do not see the scars. I see my friend. I believe others are the same. I have seen you with the Duke and Duchess of Seaton and a few others. Why, you have even started partnering with some ladies at balls."

His friend raked a hand through his hair. "But the one person who has never seemed to see what you think are your faults is Lady Georgina." Blankenship paused. "I have seen how she looks at you when she thinks no one is looking."

"You are interested in her."

"I was interested in her. Until I discovered just how interested she is in you."

He shook his head several times. "You would be a good husband to her."

The viscount looked at him steadily. "She doesn't want me, old friend. She wants you."

"She said that?"

"She didn't have to. I kissed her."

Immediately, jealousy flooded him. "You what?"

His friend grinned. "You heard me. I kissed her. Do not tell me you wouldn't have done the same. And remember—I know you."

August calmed himself. "A man kisses a woman for two reasons. One, because he wants a good time. And second, because he is looking for a wife. You are not the type to dally with a woman of such good breeding as Lady Georgina. Therefore, I am thinking you are on the hunt for a bride."

"I do wish to wed," the viscount agreed. "And I had thought Lady Georgina would be the best candidate. Of course, I had to kiss her." He snorted. "It was like kissing my sister. We tried. We both tried. But it was hopeless."

Something stirred within him. Something nameless that he refused to identify.

"We decided that we did not suit. I will no longer take space on her programme. She needs her dance card to be filled with the names of potential suitors, not rejected ones."

"Why are you telling me all this, Silas?" he asked. "You see what I look like now. Do you truly believe in my present state that I am fit for a duke's daughter?"

"If she thinks you are, then you are, August."

The viscount rose. "I will leave you to these thoughts. Are you going to the musicale this evening or the card party?"

"I accepted an invitation to the musicale. Before they truly knew what I looked like, else I doubt I would have been invited. No one—as of yet—has rescinded any invitations, but fewer are trickling in now."

"Well, I am hearing less and less gossip about you." His friend paused. "Think about what I have shared," his friend urged. "And the next time I send around a note, answer me, man!"

They both laughed.

"I will see you tonight," August promised. "I will also stop avoiding you."

"Good. Because you are stuck with me. We have been friends far too long for a missing eye to make any difference."

He walked Blankenship to the door, and they shook hands. "Thank you for coming."

After his friend left, August was restless. Though he said he would not return to the park separating his townhouse from that of Seaton's, he decided to go there now. He assumed Lady Georgina would have a bevy of callers and be nowhere close to it.

Entering the park, he decided to go to the bench where he had kissed her. He had spent far too many times thinking of those kisses as he tried to fall asleep each night.

The day was sunny as he went to the bench and was shocked to see Lady Georgina rising from it. Immediately, he knew it had been a mistake to come here.

Startled by his sudden appearance, she cried, "Lord Edgethorne! I thought you were not in the habit of coming here."

He shrugged. "I haven't been." He paused, their gazes meeting. "It is the first time I have returned since... since the last time I was here with you."

She blew out a long breath and sat again. "You might as well join me."

August did so, having not a clue why he did so.