of experience. She’d taken another, longer look at him then. And seen that this fashionably dressed, sophisticated man would have regarded the letters she’d written to him as the outpourings of a childish idiot.
She’d gone cold inside as she’d finally understood how pathetic she’d been about...so many things. And promptly vowed not to be so pitiful one moment longer. If he didn’t want to have anything to do with her, then she would not embarrass him, or herself, by letting anyone suspect she’d been pining for him.
So the next time she’d seen him, the night he’d strolled into the local assembly in Bartlesham, she’d fixed a smile on her face and stuck close to Sukey and her throng of admirers. And instead of ignoring the leftover ones that Sukey didn’t have time to dance with, she’d offered to stand up with them for once. Most of them were so bemused they couldn’t think of a polite way to refuse her, so, for that one night, Georgiana had never lacked for a partner.
But it hadn’t impressed Edmund. At least, not the way she’d hoped. He’d looked at her exactly the way he was looking at her now. As though she disgusted him.
So she did exactly what she’d done that night as well. She lifted her chin and turned her head away, as though there was something more interesting to look at elsewhere. Her gaze came to rest on the baronet, who was standing by the piano, piling his plate with food. And slipping every third sandwich into his pocket.
The sight of a guest stealing food was so shocking that it did actually distract her from Edmund. For a moment, anyway. By the time she glanced back at the place where he had been standing, he was no longer there.
Instead, he was striding across the room, looking as though he was thinking of strangling her.
Her heart started banging against her ribs. She didn’t know what she’d done to put such a look on his face, but at least he was coming over. Every other time they’d been at the same function he’d made a point of ignoring her. Spoken to just about every other person in the place, but accorded her only a chilly nod as he’d stalked past on his way out.
Not that he had any right to look at her like that. In fact, she had far more right to be angry and to be shooting dagger glances at him. If he’d only been more...reasonable, she might not have had to part with Whitesocks, or see Stepmama spend the money that had been left to her by her father on foolish extravagances, or been shoehorned into ridiculous outfits and obliged to put up with the unwelcome attention such gowns attracted from men who ought to have better manners. She might not have had to come to London at all.
By the time he reached her side, she’d curled her hands into fists, she was so angry with him. Every bit as angry as he looked. For a moment or two, neither of them spoke. Instead they just stood there glaring at each other.
‘I see you are set on taking London by storm,’ he said, giving the edge of her décolletage one scathing glance.
He might have said something vile, but at least he had been the one to weaken and speak first. So it felt as if she had scored the first point.
‘I see you have left your manners behind in Bartlesham,’ she riposted.
‘Touché,’ he said, raising his hand to acknowledge the hit. Which made it two to one. ‘But if you want me to make a complimentary remark about your appearance, I am afraid you will be waiting a long time.’
She supposed he’d meant to wound her, but since he couldn’t possibly hate the gown more than she did, the thrust had gone wide. What was more, now that he’d spoken to her so rudely, she felt perfectly justified in speaking her mind as well.
‘I have already learned that waiting for you is a waste of time.’
‘I attended you at the trout stream the very day I got your note,’ he said, looking a touch uncomfortable. ‘And I did call upon you a day or so later, to tell you that...’ He shook his head. ‘Never mind that now. It must be obvious that by the time I had calmed down, you had already left for London and what might have been said upon that occasion is now completely irrelevant.’
‘You called upon me? At Six Chimneys?’ That hadn’t been what she’d meant about waiting for him. It had been the years while he’d been abroad, during which she’d pined for his company, which she now regarded as so much wasted time. Because she’d always hoped that when he came back, things would have returned to the way they’d been...
Which just went to show how silly she’d been. They’d both been children when he’d gone away. Adults when he returned. Things could never have been the same between them, even if he’d kept his word about staying in touch.
‘Yes,’ he said looking grim. ‘I had the dubious pleasure of meeting your father’s cousin, Mr Wickford.’
‘Serves you right,’ she said, as if she was twelve again. ‘Did you also meet Mrs Wickford?’
‘No. She was upstairs, attempting to make herself presentable.’
‘You had a narrow escape. Though a meeting with Mrs Wickford is exactly what you deserve for—’ She pulled herself up short. For a moment, there, she’d started speaking to him as freely as she’d done when they’d been children. As if she hadn’t worked so hard to acquire the manners of a lady. As if all the slights and betrayals had never taken place.
But they had. Besides, he was the Earl of Ashenden now, not her playmate. And she was just a penniless country miss, who ought to know her place and respect her betters, and all the rest of the things Stepmama was constantly reminding her of.
‘For letting you down,’ he finished her sentence for her, the way he’d always done when her thoughts had become too tangled for her to get them out sensibly. ‘For which I apologise. I told you, once, that you might apply to me should you ever find yourself in need of my help—’
She gasped. She’d thought he’d resented making that promise. That he would do anything to wriggle out of it. And yet now that he’d had time to reflect, it seemed he regretted not being able to do the one thing she’d requested. As though keeping his word was still important to him.
Even if she wasn’t.
‘And the very first time you asked me for anything,’ he was continuing, ‘I let you down. Not,’ he went on hastily, ‘that I have any intention of acceding to your ridiculous proposal of marriage.’
‘Naturally not.’ It had always been a long shot. Her last, desperate attempt to salvage something from the wreckage left in the wake of her father’s demise.
But did he have to look so relieved she’d now said as much?
‘But there are other ways I could keep my promise to...to be your friend, I am sure. Other ways I can repay the debt I owe you.’
‘Debt? What debt?’
‘Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it is not that I owe you anything.’ He paused, frowning slightly, the way he always did when marshalling his arguments. ‘Perhaps it is more accurate to say that I am determined not to break my vow.’
She flinched. Just as she’d thought. It wasn’t she that mattered, but his own honour.
‘Yes, well,’ she said, ‘it is a little late now.’
‘Far from it. There is a great deal I can do, short of actually
