If the Major was a suitor for her hand.
She shuddered. He’d certainly been keen to tell her all about the estate from which he hailed, the horses his father kept in the stables and the hunting to be had in the area. Was that how a man showed he was interested in a girl as a prospective bride? By talking incessantly about himself?
‘I am not surprised to see you shudder. What a strange thing to talk about during an at-home,’ said Stepmama, completely misunderstanding Georgiana’s reaction. Thankfully. ‘Still, he always was a very odd young man by all accounts. Not surprising that he’s grown into an eccentric.’
‘Eccentric? He is not eccentric. He’s—’
‘I think he’s rather fascinating,’ put in Sukey hastily, before Georgiana could get herself into trouble by launching a defiant and heated defence.
Fascinating was a very good word to describe the adult Edmund, actually. Even when she was angry with him, he could make her laugh. Or want to laugh, anyway. She’d had to bite down quite hard to stop herself when he’d spouted all that nonsense about the delicacies of the female eye.
‘He was certainly fascinated by you, my dear,’ said Stepmama to Sukey, happily diverted from the subject. ‘I saw the way he was looking at you as he was drinking his tea. He stood there, just gazing down at you, as though he’d never seen anything so lovely.’ She leaned forward and gave Sukey’s cheeks a loving pat. ‘And little wonder. You are exactly to his taste. By all accounts.’ She leaned back, flushing. ‘Not that we should pay any attention to that sort of thing. All men have their little diversions before they are married. And some of them, particularly those of his rank, have them after, as well.’
Georgiana couldn’t think why that statement made her spirits sink. It wasn’t as if she had any matrimonial hopes in that direction. Edmund had rejected her proposal in no uncertain terms. He had only called upon them today, because... She frowned. Actually, she wasn’t sure why he’d called. To let her know that he disapproved of her gown and her behaviour? He’d done that, right enough. And then gone on to rescue her and to give her advice as to how to avoid getting backed into corners by idiots like Major Gowan, whilst admitting she didn’t need it because she had the sense to avoid such situations now she knew they were likely to occur. He’d also totally confused her last night by saying she looked magnificent, directly after expressing his disapproval of her low-cut bodice, and then, to crown it all, today he’d taken her hand and patted it.
She looked down at it, in bewilderment. It still tingled from his touch. In fact, her whole being had leapt when he’d taken it in his. Probably because it had been the first time he’d touched her in a natural, affectionate sort of way since...since they’d been children. And because, for the entire time they’d been talking, she’d been able to forget that he was an earl and she was a nobody. He’d made her feel like a person again, instead of an...an object of lust, simply by looking directly into her eyes while he’d been speaking to her, without once appearing tempted to let his gaze slide down to her bosom.
Except in disapproval that too much of it was on show.
Which meant he didn’t feel the slightest bit attracted to her, as a woman. Not that she wanted him to start acting like a lustful, drooling idiot. And yet...it was perplexingly depressing, all the same.
She’d given too much credit to his declaration she looked magnificent, that’s where she’d gone wrong. He’d probably only said it in an attempt to make her feel better about herself, once he’d remembered what she’d said about disliking being treated like a prize heifer.
She eyed her stepmother with resentment. Trust her to take all the pleasure out of the encounter with Edmund, with just a few choice phrases. For that was what she’d done. Before her remark about the way he’d been looking at Sukey, she’d been basking in what had felt almost like a return to old times. She’d loved the way he’d launched into that nonsense about optical orbs and sunlight from west-facing windows, to tease her for rolling her eyes at the Major. She loved the way he’d wielded his intellect, like a rapier, skewering an opponent who’d been too slow to even notice the attack. Or the defence, rather, because he’d befuddled the Major on her behalf.
Which had been most chivalrous of him. Until now, she’d thought he’d grown into an aloof, and cold, and cutting man. But she’d never heard of him using his intellect against anyone who didn’t deserve a set-down. And there was always talk about him. There was talk about all people of his rank. The doings of the ton filled columns of print every day. Even though the names were left out, the newspapermen gave sufficient clues to leave nobody in any doubt about who had been doing what with whom.
Perhaps that was what had made it much harder for her to put him out of her mind, than for him to forget about her. She was always hearing snatches of gossip that had reached Bartlesham from London, or Oxford. Not just the gossip about his love life, either. Locals had been vicariously proud of each paper he’d presented to various scientific societies, even though it confirmed the opinion that he was an odd sort of man, to sit up all night catching moths, let alone wasting hours of daylight cataloguing them.
But what was she ever likely to do that would make a newspaper wish to write about it? Nothing.
She might scoff at the Major for being a slowtop, but the truth was she had far more in common with him than with Edmund nowadays.
Though she hated to admit Stepmama could be right about anything, Major Gowan was just the sort of man she ought to consider marrying. He liked living in the country. When he was in London on duty, he was grateful that he could at least spend a great deal of it on horseback, he’d told her. And more to the point, he liked the look of her. Or her bosom, at any rate.
She shuddered again. Was that to be her future? Shackled to a brainless boor who would only ever be interested in her body?
‘Now that the visitors have gone, you may run up and get a shawl, Georgiana,’ said Stepmama, mistaking her shiver of revulsion at the prospect of having to marry a man like Major Gowan for one of cold.
‘Thank you, Stepmama,’ she said meekly, relieved to escape the room before the interrogation went any further. For if she had to give her opinion about the first suitor her stepmother had flung in her path, it would have been a struggle to say anything even remotely polite.
She would rather go to work as a...as a...
She came to a dead halt halfway up the stairs. Actually, what sort of work could she get? Not as a governess, Stepmama had been right about that. She had none of the accomplishments young ladies required. Her father hadn’t thought that sort of education necessary when she’d been little, and by the time he married Stepmama it had been considered too late to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Stepmama had therefore concentrated on drilling her in correct behaviour.
Her bottom winced at the memory of just how mercilessly she’d drilled that behaviour into her, which got her moving up the stairs again.
What other occupations did indigent females of her station go into? Milliner, seamstress? Out of the question. She couldn’t sew a straight seam to save her life and had no eye for fashion whatever. Companion to an elderly lady? She’d go mad.
She could, probably, go on the stage. The one thing Stepmama had succeeded in teaching her was how to pretend to be something she wasn’t. She didn’t think she’d have any difficulty learning her lines, either. The trouble was, actresses had to put up with lots of men drooling over them on a nightly basis, rather than just one.
A reflection that put paid to any thought of having a career on the
