Loving Lady Georgianna (Spirited #2)

Chapter 14

The day prior

Piccadilly street

Madame Laurent's shop

The midday hour

As Georgie stood on the dais that afternoon, she found herself debating the merits of marriage. Even as the corset of her wedding gown dug into her skin, the fragrance of hothouse blooms filling her nostrils, and with Miss Lester's red curls shining as the girl pinned the hem of said gown, it felt as if tiny ants had descended beneath her skin, and by god, how she itched.

And it had begun quite early this morning as Burkeley and his mother, Lady Elizabeth, had come to call. Burkeley with his assurances that last evening's events would be addressed and Lady Elizabeth, with her urging to begin building Georgianna's wedding trousseau.

They had moved up the wedding. In one month's time, she would be wed.

A duchess.

Burkeley's wife.

None of those things should have caused such an occurrence within her. This was what Georgie had wanted. Always wanted.

So why had if not Burkeley's tread seemed unduly heavy on her parquet flooring? Why did his voice ring so in her eardrums as he assured Georgie he would "handle everything to her satisfaction."

Pretty words, she was sure, meant to soothe and console, so why did all of that make her decidedly anxious?

Her gaze fell to the outside world, glancing past her shoulder in the mirror, and Georgie was realizing she would give anything to be anywhere else than where she was.

Which was preposterous when she considered her desire for a lifelong companion and a home of her own - both of which could be found within the Duke's palatial manors. Not one, Georgie recalled, nor even two, but five, if her mother's reading of Debrett's Peerage had been correct. There was also her utmost concern, Georgie thought, absently placing her right hand on her belly: a child with which to raise and play and love.

Her eyes absently traced the frills of her wedding gown as Georgie remembered walking from her drawing room to find a bevvy of gentlemen had laid siege upon her doorstep - all asking after her welfare which was no doubt, in part, because of Thorne's machinations two days prior.

The sight had brought a smile to her lips. The man knew how to press her buttons, and it had made her feel...alive for the first time in years.

Had it truly been only earlier this week that everything had happened?

It seemed months had taken place.

Georgie had, in fact, expected to see Thorne when she was out riding in Hyde Park. Perhaps see him walking down the cobblestone streets or as she called upon her acquaintances. All to no avail. It was as if the man had disappeared.

She should be happy to have skirted his attention, to have dissuaded him from their wager.

Why wasn't she?

But even as her eyes had looked for him in the crowd filling her parlor that morning, he was decidedly absent. And as easily as they had all congregated,  it had taken merely Burkeley's gruff "Leave" for the gelatinous mold that was London's upper crust to evaporate. They had cascaded away like wayward rivulets into the streets from whence they came. The matter apparently settled, Georgie had then found herself similarly maneuvered, shuttled into the duke's carriage and rambling down the road towards the center of London with her mother and future mother-in-law in tow.