Once she would have relished such a function - the bigger the better - but time, maturity, and the realization that there was more to life than sitting about exchanging nasty gossip had dulled her enthusiasm considerably. Not to mention the fact that there were far better way to help the unfortunate than an exclusive gathering that involved lots of talking and planning but very little actual doing.
“A cucumber sandwich, my lady?” A maid dressed in black with her blond hair tucked neatly under a cap walked up to Georgiana holding a silver tray. She removed to the lid to reveal half a dozen neat cucumber sandwiches garnished with a bright green sprigs of mint.
“No.” Georgiana gave a slight shake of her head. “Although if you could point me in the direction of the library, I would be most appreciative.”
If there was one place she would be guaranteed a bit of peace and quiet in a house filled with empty-headed gossips, it was a room full of books. It was ironic, really. She’d never been much of a reader before her husband died - truth be told, she’d mocked those who were - but after living in relative seclusion with only her eccentric sister-in-law for company, she’d learned to appreciate just how distracting a good book could be.
With just the flip of a page one could be transported to another place and time. It was a wonderful experience; one she chided herself on for not discovering sooner for if there was one thing she knew better than most, it was that life could be tragically short.
She and Derek had lost their parents at a young age. They’d gone to live with their grandparents, the Duke and Duchess of Hawkridge. While the duchess had been a sweet tempered woman who liked to sneak her grandchildren sugary treats, the duke had been a cruel, foul-mouthed man who took and instant dislike to Derek. As far as Georgiana was concerned he didn’t seem to have any emotional attachments one way or another, and she soon found herself at boarding school where she spent the majority of her adolescence.
It was in school that she’d grown her thick skin. Having always been naturally observant, she had quickly seen what happened to the meek and the mild. They were laughed at. Ridiculed. Taken advantage of. Determined not to count herself among their ranks she’d set out to prove herself worthy of praise and admiration. She was, after all, the granddaughter of a duke. And while she would never inherit the title that would eventually go to her brother, she was determined to have the next best thing: a wealthy husband.
Slowly and methodically the laughing, adventurous child she’d been was replaced with a shrewd, sharp-tongued debutante who wouldn’t hesitate to cut a rival to the quick. When she made her debut into society it wasn’t as a wide-eyed lamb but a sly, cunning fox. One who quickly sank her claws into London’s most eligible bachelor.
After she was married her life became a revolving door of parties, luncheons, and dress fittings. Her husband may not have been the man of her dreams but she was sensible enough to know that such a man did not exist, so why want for what she could never have? They were happy enough in a polite, detached sort of way. Until the idiot had to go and get himself killed, plunging all of her careful planning into absolute chaos.
Forced to retreat from the high society she so adored, Georgiana went to live at Hawkridge Castle, her family’s remote ancestral estate set upon ten thousand sprawling acres in the middle of absolutely nowhere. It had felt so very strange, returning to the home she’d been effectively banished from all those years ago. But nothing - rather, make that no one - had been stranger than her new sister-in-law.
Suffice it to say, Eleanor was everything Georgiana wasn’t.
The red-haired bluestocking was unrefined, loud, and hopelessly awkward. They were opposites in every way imaginable, and yet life - or maybe it was fate - had brought them both to Hawkridge Castle.
Over the next twelve months they became something more than roommates and something less than bosom buddies. To Georgiana’s surprise, she discovered she actually liked Eleanor. Although she would rather cut off her right pinky finger than admit as much out loud.
Her sister-in-law’s blunt honesty and disregard for what anyone thought about her was refreshing. When Derek finally showed up to claim his bride, she’d told him in no uncertain terms that he was a fool for staying away as long as he had. Eleanor may have been an unconventional duchess - to put it mildly - but she was also beautiful, witty, and a constant source of amusement (whether she meant to be or not).
Now Eleanor and Derek were tucked cozily away at Hawkridge while Georgiana struggled to find where she belonged. She knew it wasn’t as a third wheel at her childhood home, no matter how many times her brother made it clear she was welcome to visit whenever she wished. But neither, it seemed, was it here.
The library door creaked on its hinges when she pushed it open. Sweeping her skirts to the side she stepped in and quietly closed the door behind her, giving her eyes times to adjust to the subdued lighting before she walked into the room, the heels of her slippers sinking silently into a thick Aubusson rug.
All manner of books lined the walls, from heavy tomes bound in leather to slim novels with paper covers. After perusing the shelves for a few moments she selected a worn looking edition of The Sense of Reason, a short novel by acclaimed author James Harbrook about the trials and tribulations of a young orphan girl growing up in the East End.
Georgiana had read it before, and she flipped to one of her favorite passages as she slowly backed up towards an oversized leather chair. Her eyes on the page in front of her, she failed to notice the chair was already occupied until she started to sit down...and encountered not a wool stuffed cushion as expected, but a pair of very hard, very masculine thighs.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she gasped, jumping to her feet. “I didn’t know anyone was…you.”
Her entire face draining of all color, Georgiana stared in wordless astonishment at the one man she’d hoped never to see again. The man who had stolen her first kiss. The man who had been her first love. The man who had promised her the stars…and the man who had broken her heart.
“Hello, Georgiana,” drawled the Duke of Warwick. “It’s been a long time.”
A Dangerous Passion Page 15