Chapter 1

Chapter One

December 22, 1821

Apple Grove House

" No true lady enjoys the country. Pigs reside there. And I don't mean men. But yes, them, too." –from The Masculine Inconvenience: Memoirs of a Superior Lady

A death and a dare had brought Lady Georgiana Hunt to a place she'd never thought to go—a Christmas house party. She'd loved the yuletide as a girl—the fires, the dancing, the laughter—but her girlhood and her love had died long ago. Now she knew the holiday for the inconvenience it truly was. Pretending to be jolly, talking to family and friends who had no interest in you.

Outside, the air looked fresh and clear, and an apple grove fanned out in rows by the house. Green, rolling lawns and a lake in the distance, frozen under the white winter sky. So very different from London. So much space. No corners to hide in.

She looked away from the window, the soft pink brocade curtains brushing her arm, and down at the letter that had arrived in London but a week ago.

Georgie,

As you well know, I'm hosting a Christmas house party. As I well know, you've refused to attend. However, considering you are out of mourning, I think you should.

I dare you.

Kindest regards,

Sarah

A direct dare. Sarah had known she'd not be able to resist. Her addiction to a challenge, her pride—the only reason she was here. It had nothing to do with the lack of challenge in the city now that her fortune hunter problem had been solved. Nothing to do with the silence of an empty townhouse either, void of the family she'd invited for Christmas, the family who had turned down her invitation with a few words in a cold note. Nothing to do with the unexpected loneliness landing like a brick to the head. Not at all.

A knock on the door.

"Come in." Georgiana paced to the mirror to pat her hair. All neat and in place.

"All changed, I see." Sarah Evans, Viscountess Flint strode in, her red hair wispy and falling out of its coiffure. "And looking fresh even after hours of travel from London. You always look fresh, even straight out of musty coaches." She plopped on the bed with a sigh. "I tend toward hoyden at all times."

"You look lovely," Georgiana assured her. A truth. Her friend had a welcoming smile and a happy light in her eyes. She wore the kindness of her heart in her face.

"You came. I was not sure if you would." Sarah's eyes glittered.

Georgiana snorted. "You doubt my courage? My daring?"

"You know I do not." Her fingers tracing the design on the coverlet, Sarah let each word drop slowly and thoughtfully into the air. "I was merely unsure if you would dare yourself to defy me. A counter dare if you will."

"Defy the Dare Queen? Even I am not that brave." Sarah had caused a scandal with her dares before marrying Xavier, pushing herself to more dangerous actions in order to raise funds for a hospital. Georgiana's current dare exceeded all of those, offering true terror. Carols? Winter revelry? Mistletoe? She shivered. "A house party, Sarah? At Christmas? You know I am not made for such things."

"I do. Which is why I dared you. You've been so secluded since your aunt's death. It's not good for you. You need a challenge. Surviving something you dislike is certainly that."

"Editing my aunt's memories is challenging enough, thank you very much." Georgiana eyed her traveling trunk. Inside sat the manuscript her aunt had worked on for the last decade of her life, the manuscript she'd willed to Georgiana, tasking her with preparing it for publication.

It was always a task with Aunt Prudence. She'd never spoken to Georgiana without some lesson on her lips—men are foolish, women who fall for men are worse, trust few and never anyone with extra equipment between his legs. Every day a lecture since the moment Georgiana had moved into the woman's house. Until she'd learned them well enough to earn her aunt's approval. Then Georgiana had been left so much to her own devices that they'd rarely seen one another. Aunt Prudence had always valued independence above all else. It had been Georgiana's reward for learning so well.

Georgiana strode to her traveling trunk, opened it, found the manuscript, and put it into Sarah's hands. "There's already an interested publisher. The man who publishes Lady Escher's books."

Sarah held the pages with gentle fingers, almost as if she did not wish to touch the document. Her nose wrinkled. "It smells a bit of cheroots."

"Aunt Prudence enjoyed them."

"The Masculine Inconvenience: Memoirs of a Superior Woman," Sarah read. "Quite the title."

"Indeed. It includes all the maxims she raised me with." And that Georgiana's own experience had proved true. "Do not trust men. Said in a variety of different ways. As well as a very vivid account of all her liaisons. The book will cause quite the stir."

"She hated men but…" Sarah flushed. "But she did not mind…"

"Sleeping with them? No, apparently not. She considered physical pleasure the one useful skill a man could cultivate, but she found men who had cultivated it, sadly, in short supply. When she found one, she, erm, clung."

"I see. Why task you with this job?" Sarah stood and laid the pages gingerly on a small writing desk beneath the window.

Georgiana shrugged. "I am her heiress in every way. I inherited her money, her houses, and her philosophies." The truth of the world is what she'd inherited—men were useless and often cruel, and a woman should prize independence above all else. It was a gem rarely given to women. Georgiana had learned to covet it, hoard it early on.

"I do not think you should listen to her philosophies. I've never thought you should."

"Fortune hunter after fortune hunter, as well as my own father and Aunt Prudence's husband, have taught me the truth of her words." Georgiana's father, the Earl of Hatchetford, had long suffered a gambling problem, so had given nine-year-old Georgiana to his eccentric, widowed, childless sister in exchange for money. Aunt Prudence had wanted an heiress, had insisted on raising one herself. Georgiana shouldn't despise her father as she did. But every time their paths had crossed on London streets, every time one of her younger siblings stared at her from across a park with a blank, unknowing look in their eyes, she hated him quite excessively. And now that they'd rejected her invitation and failed to offer one of their own to the familial festivities at her father's country seat… she was done caring. She'd learned a very valuable lesson from her father, her family, from her aunt.

"Independence above everything else," Georgiana said.

"Even above love?"

Georgiana pressed her fingers to her temples and looked out the window. "You and Xavier. All our friends and your sisters have found adoring husbands. Love. You've somehow dug up men who aren't horrid. Men who seem to… care. I am terribly happy for you. But most women cannot expect such riches." She'd certainly never expected it for herself.

Sarah returned to the bed, sitting primly on its edge. "What about Josiah?"

Georgiana turned to her, sharp as a whip through the air. "What about him?"

"He's been… good to you of late. Fighting the fortune hunters away and all."

"True. He is another good man, I believe."

Sarah leaned forward tentatively as if teetering on the narrow edge of a high cliff. "I'm going to ask a question you may not appreciate, but I refuse to hint around it any longer."

"If you must."

"This fake courtship… is it perchance headed in a… real direction?"

"What can you mean?" Georgiana asked, less from an ability to understand and more from a desire to ignore her friend's meaning, hoping she dropped the question entirely.

Sarah straightened and lifted her palms up, a soft gesture, nonthreatening. But also, a refusal to back down. "It's only that I've seen it before. The fake courtship rousing real feelings. Xavier's sister and her husband—"

"Are not me and Josiah. I've barely seen him since little Bea's christening." Five times in the last nine months. One of those times was the day of Aunt Prudence's funeral. He'd walked with her in her garden, the both of them silent until he'd made her laugh. She'd needed that laugh.

"He punched a man for you."

A most humorous day. The best outing to Hyde Park she'd ever had. "Lord Afton. The man proposed to me. An insulting affair in which he compared me to a cow. I was with Josiah to begin with, yet Afton approached and proposed, the nodcock. He deserved that blow." She grinned. "So much blood."

"As your friend and Josiah's sister-in-law, I should tell you... Xavier is growing grouchy about it. Thinks he should punch some sense into Josiah for toying with you."

Georgiana laughed. "He's not toying with me. You both know that. We told you. It's all part of the ruse. It worked, too. After he broke Afton's nose, no one dares approach me, fortune hunter or no." She'd become Josiah's property in the eyes of the ton , though no announcement had been made, no verbal confirmation. He never even touched her in public. And yet, she was his. To everyone else. It irked her, the idea she might belong to some man, even imaginatively, but she knew she didn't, and the lie served a purpose, so she let her ire slip away.

"You do not think he's even a little bit in love with you, then?" Sarah asked.

"Lord, no! Josiah's an excellent friend. And he is helping me. As friends do if you will remember." Her aunt had always said men couldn't be friends with women. They'd only try to get beneath their skirts once they saw an opportunity. That sentiment was actually written down. On page five of her memoirs.

"You're sweet on him." Sarah gave a lazy grin. "When you say his name, your lips twitch, like they want to smile."

Did they? Georgiana turned back to the window, welcoming the thick curtain to hide her definitely-not-twitching lips. "How is baby Bea? Walking yet? When do they begin to walk? Can she talk? How does she take her tea?"

"It's clear I'll have to teach you about babies. Your knowledge is scandalously imperfect. But I'll not let you distract me just yet. Friendship is a lovely place to start. Wouldn't you like to marry a man you can be friends with?"

"No."

"Then what will you do? With your fortune and your independence and your new freedom from fortune hunters?"

"Apparently, attend a house party," Georgiana grumbled. "Tell me, what does one do at this sort of thing?"

Sarah lifted her chin and cast Georgiana a sly glance that would not be out of place in a fox's den. "There's cake. I'm sure Josiah will bring you some. There's always cake at your tea after he's visited. A pretty, pastel pastry of some sort, mountains of it." Said as if that proved something.

It did not. "And? I enjoy cake. My friend knows this of me."

"Ah well. I guess cake means nothing." When clearly, she thought it meant everything. Sarah flopped backward onto the mattress with a sigh. "Such a pity. Since the two of you seem so well suited."

Georgiana grunted. "He's a steward who stomps through mud and, oh, I don't know, inspects cows and pigs or some such thing. I'm a lady of London. I prefer other amusements. Balls. Walks in manicured parks. Visits to the modiste."

"He's helping Xavier. And dancing can be had in the country. In fact, there will be dancing. At the Christmas Eve ball, which means fine gowns. And we'll have mistletoe, and—" Sarah snapped her mouth shut and studied the ceiling with a frown. "Oh. Oh, yes. That's an idea."

Georgiana sank slowly into the chair at the writing desk, needing the curved arms for support and the cool wood for calm. "No, it's not, Sarah. Whatever it is, it is not an idea."

Sarah lowered her gaze from the ceiling slowly. "I dare you—"

"No. I'm in middare right now. You cannot pile on another. It's not sporting." She curled her hands around the chair arms until she felt the skin stretch taut across her knuckles.

"I dare you—"

"Sarah—"

"To kiss Josiah."

And there it was.

"No." Georgiana rapped her knuckles on the table, welcoming the sharp knock against bone, to punctuate her refusal. "I'll not fall for matchmaking schemes. Why didn't I see it before? You are trying to bring Josiah and me into a web of… love."

"You do not have to say it as if it's a curse. Something on the bottom of one's shoe that wrinkles the nose. Love is grand. Freeing—"

"It's a chain. I'll not sacrifice my independence to—"

"And you think I've given up mine? I help run a hospital! A hospital my husband funds solely so I can supervise it."

"And you've married one of the few men who would allow you to do so." She rolled her lips between her teeth and leaned away from Sarah. She'd spoken too loudly, too vehemently.

Sarah shook her head. "I disagree." She stood and strode for the door. "And you've been dared, so you have a choice."

Georgiana followed her out of the room. "You cannot force me to kiss anyone."

Sarah shrugged. "I cannot. But I can dare you to. And if you don't do it, no harm done to me, but to you… how much power does your pride have over you? You've never backed down from a dare before. Will you do so now?"

"Of course." Maybe? She wasn't so sure. She'd begun to feel a bit wiggly inside.

"What worries you, Georgie?" Sarah asked, stopping and looking over her shoulder. "That you'll enjoy it? That you'll desire more?"

"No! Of course not. Ridiculous notion. Very well. I accept your dare. But only to prove I'll not enjoy it, and even if I do enjoy it…" He was a handsome man, after all, and likely knew what to do with those firm, chiseled lips of his. "I'll not want more. You could have proffered a more difficult challenge, Sarah." Surely this would prove no challenge at all. Kiss a man and win a dare. Nothing easier.

Right?