Chapter 1

"Thank goodness that is over."

A short laugh escaped Georgiana before she could help herself. Turning away from the front door, which she had closed to ensure her guests were gone, she turned to see her little sister skipping over to her.

It was difficult to scold anyone so adorable as her sister, who was newly ten years of age. Emma was a small, spritely-looking thing. While they both had their father's light blonde hair and deep green eyes, Emma had yet to have the same growth spurt that Georgiana had despised for the better part of her life.

Too tall to be graceful but too thin to be stately. Sometimes I feel like a walking tree, and the cobblers don't particularly help me feel any better than that. Hopefully, Emma will not have the height that Father and I share. Perhaps she'll have Mama's soft, small figure instead.

"I missed you!" Emma cried, before throwing her arms around Georgiana's middle.

Georgiana hugged her around the shoulders, leaning forward not just to make sure Emma had indeed washed her hair that morning but also to soak in the familiar scent of lilac. A smile spread across her lips as she straightened.

"We broke our fast together this morning not three hours ago," Georgiana reminded her sister with a chuckle. As Emma pulled back to pout at her, she added, "But I missed you just as much."

"I missed you more."

"That's not possible." Poking her sister in the nose, Georgiana nodded toward the parlor. "There are a few cakes left if you are still hungry."

And just like that, she was forgotten.

Emma's eyes rounded like saucers before she turned and fled through the large doorway. Her scampering steps faded away. However, it didn't take long to hear her small squeals of delight.

Laughing, Georgiana followed her sister back into the parlor.

Visiting hours were usually noneventful in their little household. If she weren't the eldest daughter of the long-widowed Earl of Lincoln, then she believed she would have had more freedom to do as she liked. But even then, she had more than most women had.

Of course, it is more than other ladies of the ton enjoy. So long as I hold up the Honeyfield family name, Father doesn't raise a fuss. He doesn't even acknowledge his two daughters if he doesn't need anything from us.

It had been over a year since she'd acted as hostess for any event her father wished to host. Now that she was in her fourth Season at two-and-twenty, he didn't even see the need to ensure a chaperone accompany her to social events.

Not that Georgiana cared much for them. She tried to attend a few whenever they were in London, but for most of the time, her father liked to keep the two of them in the country, in Devonshire. Which she and Emma didn't mind one bit.

That would keep nosy braggarts like Mrs. Lyle and her daughter, Lady Comtel, out of this house. They show up every Season just to ensure that Elizabeth is prettier and more successful than me. It's a competition they are happy to win, since I have no need of looks or husbands.

Or so Georgiana liked to tell herself.

She wasn't a bluestocking, but she was tall. That was good enough of a crime for a woman on the marriage mart in London. Her father still towered over her by a few inches, just as he had towered over his petite wife, but Georgiana could look over most of a ballroom, much to the men's dismay. They took one look at her and hurried away like she might stomp on them.

It would be amusing if it hadn't been hurtful during her first Season. Since then, Georgiana had grown used to that.

She didn't care for such social events. She preferred keeping her house and tending to Emma. Her ten-year-old sister had never known their mother or a governess, which was just the way Georgiana liked it. They relied on each other.

"It smells funny in here," Emma said with her mouth full.

Wrinkling her nose, Georgiana nodded. She took her seat and offered up a napkin with a pointed look. "It was Lady Comtel's pomade. Or her husband's—I didn't keep track."

"That must have been awful. I don't like visiting hours. They must be horrible."

"Enjoy it while you can," she teased. "Someday soon, you shall be out in Society, my doll, and you shall enjoy such treats and pomades and dancing and all sorts of pleasures."

"Pomade is not a pleasure. It's horrible." To emphasize her point, Emma took the rest of her cake and scooted to the other side of the room. "If she's married, why can't she just stay at home, away from here?"

Georgiana went to the window to air out the room. A carriage passed, and two figures walked in front of their home. "Because it's visiting hours, I told you. She just wanted to talk about how nice it is having her own home."

She didn't know why she said that. It wasn't her business nor her sister's. Turning around, she opened her mouth to correct herself.

"You have your own home." Emma pouted.

"Not exactly. Having your own home means that you're the lady of the house. While I am the lady of this house, it's only because Father is widowed," Georgiana explained. "He could remarry, and I would no longer have that position. If I marry, then I will truly be the lady of the house—my husband's house, that is."

Nodding to show she understood, Emma shoveled the rest of her cake into her mouth. She chewed for a long minute before asking, "Why aren't you married?"

A smile broke free. Georgiana crossed the room to tap her sister's nose. "Because I could be married and lady of my own house, or I could be here with you."

"I'm glad you're here. You don't… wish to be married, do you?"

Giving her a nudge so they could sit close together, Georgiana shook her head. "And give up my afternoons with you? Certainly not."

"Good." There was palpable relief in her sister's expression. "I want you here. I don't know what I would do without you, Georgie. You're the only one who tells me stories. Won't you tell me one now? The one about the piglet and Mama."

That was Emma's favorite, and Georgiana was not surprised. She told the story of her mother helping their neighbor's cook catch a piglet racing through the mud nearly every day. There had been dirt behind her mother's ear for a good week.

"Yes, and then we shall go for our ride," Georgiana decided. "Let's see, where does it begin again?"

"With Mama! She was with child and had just felt me kick for the first time."

"Ah, yes. What a sunny morning that was. Mama and I were playing outside in the front gardens back in Devonshire, collecting flowers, when she felt you kick inside her tummy. Then we heard a shout and––"

A knock sounded at the door.

She paused in surprise. Visiting hours were over now. Their last two visitors had come at the tail end of the time before slowly taking their leave. No one else had any other reason to visit. Her three friends had all married, making them busier than ever.

Didn't I remove the knocker? I wonder who it could be. Oh, and if Rogers isn't around…

Ignoring Emma's groan, Georgiana nudged her sister's legs off her lap—they had somehow ended up there. She quietly excused herself before making her way out of the room and around the hall to the front door.

There was a quiet shuffling following behind her. That would be Rogers, their aging butler. Though her father intended to recruit another, she had managed to ignore that order this long. Rogers liked feeling useful and he wasn't ready to retire.

"My Lady?"

"I can get it," she called over her shoulder. "Don't worry yourself, Rogers. We shall see…"

Even though Georgiana had heard the knock on the door, she still was not prepared for actually seeing anyone there. Her words faded away as she studied the two men who had come at an odd hour without an invitation.

"Good afternoon," the shorter one said.

She recognized him as Lord Egerton, the son of the Marquess of Carlisle. A little shorter than herself, and on the rounder side, he was around her age. They had shared a dance at the first ball of that Season back in September.

It was months ago. I wonder what he's doing here?

"Welcome, My Lords," Rogers said as he came up behind her.

Having him so close so suddenly made her jump. The thin, hunched man only came up to her shoulder. His voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Yes, welcome, Lord Egerton," she stammered out, recalling his Christian name to be Benedict. "What a… what a pleasure to have you here. Is there…"

Benedict turned his cautious smile to the man next to him. "Yes, yes. Erm, may I introduce my cousin? This is Owen Comerfield."

"The Duke of Winchester," the tall man corrected.

Georgiana stood a step above the men, though the Duke was able to meet her gaze. His strong features outlined a thick jaw and sharp cheekbones. He made her think of a bull, all muscle and more intimidating than she was ready to know.

Dark green eyes stared her down as he slowly removed his hat with a serious expression. "Good afternoon, My Lady. May we presume you are the lady of the house?"

Proud tension radiated off his body. She could feel it, though they weren't quite within arms' reach. Every part of him seemed to tell her he was not a man to be bothered. Cold, proud, and unfeeling. Hearing the heavy beating of her heart, she fought the sudden urge to close the door in their faces.

"I… Yes. That is I. Me. I'm Georgiana."

Rogers was there to help her remember her manners. "Lady Georgiana Honeyfield and the Honeyfield household welcome you. His Lordship awaits you both in his study."

She glanced at him warily as she moved out of the way. No one had told her about that. But then she supposed that was where Rogers had gone––he had talked with her father and knew of the guests without ever telling her.

How can I be prepared for guests if no one tells me?

Collecting herself, Georgiana straightened. She nodded while the men made their way inside. "Right this way, My Lords. May I offer any refreshments? I can have tea and cakes delivered to the study."

"Oh, that sounds lovely." Benedict nodded. His blonde curls bounced into his eyes, reminding her of a cherub.

"That won't be necessary."

Everyone straightened when her father appeared from around the corner. Ernest Honeyfield, Earl of Lincoln, was an intimidating man. Silver streaked his thick black hair as he strode over with his head tall and shoulders rolled back.

When did he come home? Or has he been here all day? He's always at his offices in Parliament to avoid the noise here. Or us, whatever his excuse may be.

Georgiana swallowed. She glimpsed Emma in the doorway of the parlor just before the girl hid back inside the room to stay out of their father's way.

"Good afternoon, Father," Georgiana said quickly, trying to manage the situation. She hoped he wouldn't know how clumsy she had been about the gentlemen's arrival. "We have company. The Duke of Winchester and Lord Egerton have––"

Her father waved his hand to quieten her. "Yes, yes, I can see them. Surely you know better than to stand about in the hall like this. You're old enough, Georgiana, and should know how to manage guests."

Heat infused her cheeks. "Father, I was offering refreshments. Perhaps if I had been informed about their––"

"I don't need excuses, only better behavior." He frowned at her, studying her from top to bottom. He did not appear pleased, though she couldn't imagine why. She looked fine. "A lady's place does not require a badgering tongue. Come this way, gentlemen. My study is just around the corner."

Biting her tongue, Georgiana had no choice but to nod and bob her best curtsey. "Yes, Father."

He nodded in approval before turning away. "Shall we?"

She kept her head lowered as the men left.

She thought she could feel eyes watching her. But when she looked up again, everyone but Rogers had their back to her. Glancing at the butler, he offered a sympathetic smile before he went to remove the knocker on the door.

Watching them disappear down the hall, Georgiana tried to piece it together. While Benedict was a fair, albeit somewhat boring and quiet gentleman, she'd never actually met his cousin.

After all, the Duke of Winchester was cursed.

That was what the ton said. He hadn't shown himself once in London in nearly three Seasons. The man traveled across the Continent, across the sea to faraway places, or hid away in the country. Everyone said he was cold and unfriendly.

Georgiana understood that now. Even now, when they had come uninvited, he hadn't bothered to smile at her.

She huffed in annoyance. Had he been the one staring? Probably prepared to mock her. Or curse her as well.

If the Duke is cursed, it's because he probably deserves it. Not that I believe in curses. He's most likely a philanderer and a blackguard. He doesn't participate in Society, but the rumors circulating about him… Why, I wouldn't know what to believe.

"There you are, My Lady." Hopping down the steps came her ever-cheerful maid, Jean. "Is something wrong?"

Two years younger, Jean was a brunette in freshly pressed servants' garb. She offered a toothy smile that widened when Emma stepped out into the hall, now that the men were gone.

Georgiana immediately banished the gentlemen from her thoughts. They didn't warrant her attention, not with Jean and Emma about.

"Everything is fine. I was merely detained. Emma?" Georgiana managed to smile. "Let's change and ride, shall we?"

"Yes, please!"

Georgiana thanked Rogers quietly for his aid before trailing after the girls. They shared a maid, since that was what Emma wished for. To ensure she didn't get too overworked, Georgiana outsourced all the laundry and sewing to Jean's younger sisters and mother and gave her every Saturday off.

Once Emma was changed, they gathered in Georgiana's bedchamber so she might put on her riding habit.

"What were those men here for?" Jean asked curiously.

"I don't know," Georgiana had to admit. "Father's never brought anyone here for business before. It must be something sensitive."

"You don't think it's about Marjory, is it?" Emma asked before plopping down on the comfortable bed.

Their cousin, Lady Marjory, was in a similar role as Georgiana. She was one-and-twenty and unmarried. Though she had four younger siblings, they were facing financial difficulties as of late, so this could be her last Season. Her last chance to marry.

With the Season over in three months, there was little hope.

"I don't think so," Georgiana replied. "I'm sure Father will tell us. Or Rogers might. He seemed to know someone else would be coming to the door, even if he was a tad late."

Letting her sister moan about being left in the dark on their way back down the stairs, Georgiana talked through the rest of their day's plans with Jean. She wanted to give her maid the rest of the day off but would need her assistance after supper to work on Emma's birthday gift.

"Why can't you—" Her sister's complaint was silenced when they heard footsteps in the hall.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and waited, watching silently as the gentlemen from before emerged from the study. Her father wasn't with them, clearly content to let the men see themselves out. He preferred people to be independent. Though he was not a cruel man, he did have high expectations for everyone.

"My Lords," she uttered when they came closer.

Narrowing his eyes at her, the Duke merely raised an eyebrow. It appeared he had laid judgment on her, only to find her wanting. An itch started high in her spine that she fought to ignore.

She avoided his gaze to the best of her ability. Ignoring the way her heart pounded, unnerved by his stare, she focused instead on Benedict. He might be dull, but he had never ceased to be kind and polite.

"I hope your visit went well," she said.

He hesitated more than she had expected, before he finally mustered a smile and nodded. "Yes, well. What a perfect word for that. Well, I should… We should, My Lady…"

It was a wonder these two were related.

She could have sworn the Duke nudged him. But it was hard to tell when neither man said anything. Was Benedict lying to her? She didn't see why that would matter, but she knew her father could appear harsh.

"Georgiana?" she heard her father call.

"Good day," Benedict blurted out. He nodded to Jean and Emma, before hastening down the hall.

The Duke's gaze lingered another moment before he disappeared as well.

Georgiana took a step forward, wondering if they had left in a hurry or if she was imagining it.

"Georgiana? My office. Now, if you please," her father added after a pause. "You haven't left, have you?"

"Not yet." She offered an apologetic smile to her sister.

This was probably going to ruin their schedule.

Emma slumped down on the stairs, a pretty pile of red and pink in her striped dress and jacket. If their father wished to speak to them at a time like this, there was no telling what might happen. She might not have a chance to ride, after all.

"Coming, Father," Georgiana called back. She tapped her hat, but it would be more work to remove right now. Forcing a smile, she reached her father's study. "Is something amiss?"

His doors were open. They were never open. She could count on one hand how many times she had been here. Inhaling deeply, she stepped inside.

The Earl sat at his desk, sorting through a few papers. He glanced at her with a slight frown. It was small enough to be a smile. "Close the door, Georgiana."

"Yes, Father."

Telling herself there was nothing to worry about, Georgiana clung to her waning confidence and closed the doors. Then she took a seat and prepared herself for the worst.