I hope that we will remain friends, and I sincerely wish you all happiness.
Yours truly,
Amy Hardwick
Amy sanded and sealed the letter. She didn’t know if she would ever meet a man who would love her, but she had no doubt that her decision about Mr. Crawford was in both of their best interests.
Georgette was embroidering a handkerchief for her father in the drawing room while Amy worked on her sketches. The afternoon light was good, and Georgette felt content. She liked to embroider because it made her feel peaceful.
The bell rang. Perhaps it was one of her father’s political fellows. They sometimes met with her papa in his library.
Footsteps sounded outside the drawing room. Her mother’s voice sounded cheerful, and Georgette knew before she ever heard his voice that Beau had called. She had just seen him last evening. Sometimes he was too persistent, but she did not know his reason for calling and shouldn’t make assumptions. When her mother entered, she regarded Georgette with her typical plastered smile. “Georgette, look who could not wait to see you again?”
Georgette and Amy rose and bobbed curtsies.
“How are you today?” Georgette asked.
He handed her a bouquet of wildflowers. “Thank you,” she said.
She would have appreciated them more if he’d thought to bring flowers for Amy as well, but she told herself he was a man and wouldn’t think of these things.
“Please be seated,” Lady Boswood said. “It’s always a delight to see you. Is it not, Georgette?”
Her mother’s stiff conversation never failed to grate on Georgette’s nerves, but she could not show it. “This is a surprise,” Georgette said. “I had not expected to see you so soon after last night’s ball.” I should be flattered by his persistence, but I’m starting to feel smothered.
Beau smiled. “I hoped you would take a drive in the park with me.”
She looked sideways at Amy and started to suggest they stay indoors, but her mother interrupted as usual.
“But of course Georgette wishes to drive with you,” Lady Boswood said. “Run along and put on your spencer for warmth, dear. And do take your parasol.”
She had no choice, but her mother always made the decisions. Then it occurred to her that she could decide. After all, her mother would not lecture her in front of Beau. “Perhaps we could stay indoors. We can converse while Amy and I work.”
Amy looked up from her drawing. “Oh, please don’t miss your outing because of me. I’m thoroughly engrossed in my sketches and would not be good company anyway.”
Lady Boswood clasped her hands. “There, all is settled.”
Georgette remained silent on the drive to Rotten Row, but the clacking of horse hooves and shouts from street vendors prevented casual conversation. Her temples ached a little as they often did when she had to bite her tongue over some inane or acerbic comment her mother had made.
Beau smiled at her and then returned his attention to the road. Georgette knew she ought to be happy. Any other belle would gladly snatch Beau away, given the opportunity. He had a ready smile and light blue eyes, so different from her darker blue ones. His top hat covered his blond hair of varying straw and sunshine yellow hues. There was no doubt that he was handsome, witty, and nice. But his determined courtship sometimes overwhelmed her, and of course her mother encouraged him to call as often as possible. Perhaps it was time to tell him that courtship shouldn’t be a race, but that might wound him. She truly liked and cared for him. It would be better to say nothing. She was just a little out of sorts because her mother had acted so obsequiously earlier.
When they reached Rotten Row, the promenade was in full swing. Georgette knew that Beau was proud of his smart curricle and loved to rattle on about it. She would listen with a little smile until he realized he’d forgotten himself and bored her silly. Of course, she loved the sound of his voice, and he’d answered in a gruff tone that her liked her voice, too.
Her spirits lifted, because the sun was shining, and now that she was away from her mother, she didn’t feel as if others were pushing and pulling her. Georgette twirled her parasol and waved at Sally and her brother. As Beau drove along, they both waved at many acquaintances.
Beau leaned toward her. “Look, there are my friends,” he said, raising his voice. “I’ll pull off the road for just a moment.”
“Very well.”
After he pulled over and saw to the horses, Beau helped her climb down. She’d been a bit afraid of climbing down the big yellow wheels when he’d first taken her for a ride, but now she felt comfortable as long as he assisted her.
A breeze stirred the leaves overhead. The tall oaks provided shade. The scent of the scythed grass tickled Georgette’s nose.
Beau escorted her to greet Charles Osgood and Lord Caruthers. “Well met,” Beau said.
Georgette bobbed a curtsy. “I hope you gentlemen are enjoying the lovely day and the promenade.”
“Well, we were hoping to attract the attention of some pretty ladies,” Osgood said.
“I have the prettiest lady in England,” Beau said. “And she’s all mine.”
She thought it a little funny that he’d spoken of her as if she were a possession like his curricle, but it didn’t signify.
Someone farther down the path called out and waved. It was Beau’s mother, Lady Wallingham, and her daughter Eugenia.
Georgette pasted on her society smile, but Lady Wallingham was every bit as ridiculous as Georgette’s own mother. Lady Wallingham had one advantage over Lady Boswood in that she didn’t appear to be ill-tempered.
Lady Wallingham prodded poor Eugenia to walk faster. Georgette certainly understood how Eugenia felt. Why did some mothers not understand the fine art of subtlety?
A somewhat large woman, Lady Wallingham clutched her chest and huffed upon catching up to them. “Oh, my, I didn’t want to miss you.” She prodded Eugenia again. “Do make your curtsy.”
Georgette decided to rescue Eugenia. “Have you met Lord Caruthers and Mr. Osgood?”
Before Eugenia could answer, Lady Wallingham interrupted. “Oh my, yes, all of my son’s friends call frequently. But of course, I’m looking forward to having you come along with us to visit Beau’s grandmother this Saturday.”
“Goodness, it must have slipped my mind,” Georgette said, not quite hiding her sharp tone. “Or perhaps I missed the invitation?” She imagined Lady Wallingham and Beau clasping her arms in a game of tug of war.
“Mother, I have not asked Georgette yet,” Beau said.
Caruthers and Osgood exchanged amused looks.
“Oh, well, hurry and do so,” Lady Wallingham continued. “You don’t want her to make other plans.” She patted Georgette’s hand. “I’m sure you would consult my dear son first,” Lady Wallingham said. “I know you would not wish to disappoint him.”
Georgette wanted to say that Beau ought to consult her, but of course, she must keep silent to avoid causing a scene.
“You are such a lovely couple,” Lady Wallingham said. “By summer, our family will no doubt have a new member.”
Lady Wallingham’s statement was the last straw. Georgette could no longer force herself to smile. Everyone made assumptions about her and assumed she would acquiesce. She simply could not bear it.
Caruthers bowed. “Ladies, Beaufort. Osgood and I are off now. Have a pleasant evening.” The two climbed into Caruthers’s curricle. With a deft tug on the reins, Caruthers drove onto the main path again and disappeared among multiple other conveyances.
Georgette turned to Beau, meaning to ask him to return her home, but his eyes widened a bit. He must know she was vexed, because she was not trying to hide it.
“Georgette, perhaps you would allow me to escort you for a walk,” Beau said.
“Oh, what an excellent idea,” Lady Wallingham said. “Eugenia and I will visit some of our acquaintances. Do be mindful of the horse droppings, Lady Georgette. You don’t wish to ruin your slippers.”
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Georgette took Beau’s arm. He led her away from the promenade and farther into some of the more rustic areas. When they were well away from the crowd, he stood with his back against a tree. “I’m sorry my mother blurted out the invitation like that. I told her that I would ask you, but sometimes she doesn’t think before she speaks.”
“Well, we both have ridiculous mothers,” she said.
“They are our mothers, and regardless of their faults, they deserve our respect.” He smiled. “And really all you have to do is placate them.”
“No, Beau. You do not understand. If I placate them it means that I bow down and do whatever they want or expect of me. I have almost no say in my life, because everyone decides what is best for me. No one ever thinks to consult me first.”
He cupped her face with his hands. “Do not worry. Our mothers are just excited that we are courting. So am I.”
She turned her face away, hating that she must say the words, but if she did not stand up for herself now, everyone would continue to manipulate her into doing what they wanted.
“Georgette, what is it?”
She regarded him. “I need everyone to stop pushing me so hard.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
She inhaled on a shaky breath. This would not be easy to say. “Everyone, including you, is trying to rush me. No one says it directly, but they are not subtle about it either. Both of our families assume we will marry. And that troubles me, Beau.”
His expression grew alarmed. Then he took her by the shoulders. “Georgette, I thought we had an understanding.”
“Nothing was ever spoken. No one ever asked me.”
“It was understood,” he said. “I called on you. We kissed last winter. And yes, you have led me to believe you wished to marry me.”
“I’m not saying that I don’t want to marry you,” she said. “I’m saying that I need more time.”
“Don’t you know how I feel about you?”
“All I ask is that we slow down a bit. I feel as if we’re racing ahead in this courtship.”
His mouth thinned. “Every night when I go to bed, I imagine having you there with me.”
Oh, dear heavens. “Beau, you should not mention that in my presence.”
“Why? I know you’re a respectable young lady, but I do think about being intimate with you. Those feelings aren’t wrong.”
“I know, but we aren’t married.”
He drew her into his arms. “We could be.”
She averted her face and blinked back her stupid tears. “You’re not listening.”
He pulled her flush against his body. “It’s just hard to wait.”
She gasped at the hard ridge of his sex against her stomach.
“Please don’t be afraid,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes. “This is why you’re in such a rush to marry. You want to bed me.”
He laughed. “Where did you hear that expression?”
“I have three elder brothers.” She pushed on his chest. “You didn’t answer me.”
He kissed her softly on the lips. “I will do my best to honor your request to slow down, but I don’t want to wait too long.”
She stepped out of his arms. Beau still did not understand. He’d just assumed that she would marry him. And that made her wonder what else he would assume without asking what she wanted. “You had better escort me home.”
“You’re overset again,” he said. “What is wrong?”
“If you had listened, really listened, to what I said a few moments ago, you would not have to ask me that question. But you are like our mothers. You make assumptions about the decisions you believe I will make.” She shook her head. “Beau, don’t take me for granted. And I think it would be better if I did not go with your family to call on your grandmother. It will set expectations of our future, and I am far from being decided.”
He clenched his jaw and strode away, leaving her to follow in his wake. She struggled to keep up. Eventually, he halted, turned around, and walked back to her. He halted a foot away, and the distance seemed like a mile. “Forgive me for losing my temper. I have made assumptions, but your every word and deed encouraged me.”
“Beau, I think you had better take me home now.” He didn’t understand, and she suspected he never would. Her heart felt heavy as she realized he didn’t see that he was still making assumptions.
“You’re making me suffer because my mother blurted out the invitation to the call on my grandmother,” he said. “I saw your smile fade away. It’s not fair to blame me. I can’t control my mother.”
“Beau, it’s not fair for you to assume that I will leap to do your bidding. That includes visits to your family, carriage rides, dances, and, most of all, weddings,” she said. “If I don’t stand up for myself, everyone else will continue to assume that I will acquiesce to whatever they believe is best for me.”
“It’s called courtship,” he said.
“You are pressing me, and you don’t want to admit it. Take me home, Beau.”
“You just want to make things more difficult than they are,” he said.
“No, I just want to have a say in my life.”
Chapter Five
One week later
Amy took advantage of the morning sunshine to work on her designs. She envisioned a gown with a Vandyke collar. Along the bottom of the gown, she drew silk tulle flounces. At the end of the paper, she made a note recommending aqua silk satin for the fabric and silver lamé embroidering the flounces.
A knock sounded. Frowning, Amy rose. “Come in.”
Georgette let out a disgusted sigh. “I will be so glad when this card party is over tonight. Mama is fretting over every little detail. She actually chided me for sneezing.”
Amy laughed. “Oh, dear.”
“The servants are scurrying about, and my father recommended I steer clear,” Georgette said. “Then he shut himself up in his library. I wish I could hide in there, too.”
“Your mother is just anxious for everything to turn out well,” Amy said.
Georgette sighed. “It cannot have escaped your notice that she insists on perfection. I have to bite my lip to keep from telling her to stop haranguing everyone.”
Amy pitied Georgette for having to endure such a temperamental mother. “You understand her and manage well in spite of her flaws.”
Georgette’s eyes widened. “Oh, are those new sketches?”
“Do you like this one?” Amy asked.
“Oh, yes. High collars are all the rage now.”
“Here is a walking gown I drew with long sleeves,” Amy said. “There are three rows of lace at the shoulder and two rows at the bottom of the skirt.”
“I like that one as well. Are you planning to show them to Madame DuPont?” Georgette asked.
“Yes, when I draw a few more.” Amy felt a bit uncomfortable about hiding the matter of compensation, though she had taken none yet. She felt Georgette did not need to know. In truth, the less she knew the better.
“It is so exciting to think of others wearing your creations,” Georgette said.
A knock sounded at the door. Georgette went to answer, and Lizzy bobbed a curtsy. “Miss, her ladyship requests you attend her in the drawing room.”
Georgette sighed.
“Should I come as well, Georgette? Perhaps I can help,” Amy said.
“You have two letters, Miss Hardwick,” the maid said, pulling them out of her apron pocket.
“Read your letters,” Georgette said. “I’ll attend my mother.”
After Georgette left, Amy sat at the desk. She wrinkled her nose upon recognizing Mr. Crawford’s handwriting. The other one was from her mother. She decided to read the vicar’s letter first and be done with the unpleasant business.
Dear Miss Hardwick,
Six times, I have read your short missive and fail to understand why you have lost all affection for me. My spirits have been so lowered, that I finally sought your parents’ coun
sel. I admitted to them that I fear you have transferred your tender feelings to another.
My dear, please tell me that all my worries are the product of my imagination. Until I receive such reassurance, I will be pining for your presence. At this moment, I am tempted to journey to London to see for myself that you are unaltered since last I saw you, and that you are the same sweet country girl. But let me say no more on this subject. I believe it obvious where my tender feelings reside. All that is required for my happiness is a comforting word or two from you.
Yours truly,
F. A. Crawford
She could not fathom why Mr. Crawford had trouble interpreting her letter. Amy felt that she’d been clear and concise in her explanation. She was more than a little surprised about his claim of tender feelings. Before she’d left home, he’d never said anything that indicated he felt affection for her. But apparently the moment he realized she no longer welcomed his suit, he suddenly fancied himself in love, though he’d not gone so far as to use the word.
Since she had told him she no longer believed they would suit, she decided that any further correspondence was unnecessary. If she were to write to him, he might interpret her letter as encouragement, and that would not be good for either of them. She tossed his letter on the fire and broke the seal on her mother’s letter.
After unfolding the letter, Amy smiled. Papa left the correspondence to Mama as he said she had more delicacy and always managed to strike the right tone. Amy’s chest tightened just a little, for she missed her parents.
Her mother’s letter started out with assurances that she and Amy’s father were in good health. They were surprised that she had rebuffed Mr. Crawford, but Papa had said the vicar could sometimes be a dry old stick. Her mother stated that she trusted Amy’s judgment, though she was somewhat surprised that Amy had told him not to wait for her just prior to leaving for London.
The sudden timing leads me to believe there might have been a disagreement. In your letter, you were very firm that you no longer welcome him as a suitor. Are you certain, daughter? I feel compelled to ask because Mr. Crawford appears to be truly distraught and was under the impression that the two of you had an understanding.
How to Ravish a Rake Page 9
