“How do you think?” George retorted, insulted by her great-aunt’s tone. “The duke gave it to me.”

Aunt Agatha glanced at the duke, who was talking to some other guests. “It’s a disgrace! To give it to you, after your outrageous appearance at the church.”

“Why shouldn’t he give his bride jewels?” Emm asked. “I think it’s a lovely gesture and the rubies go perfectly with George’s dress.”

Aunt Agatha eyed the dress and winced. “The less said about that wretched dress the better—you know, of course, what everyone has been saying.”

“The duke didn’t seem to mind it, Aunt Agatha, and really, isn’t that all that matters?” Emm said mildly. “It’s unconventional, certainly, but the color suits her.”

“I don’t give tuppence for what everyone is saying, Aunt Agatha,” George told the old lady. “It’s mostly hot air, spite and envy, and for all I care the gossips can choke on it.” She smiled. “And the duke told me he liked my dress.”

“Pfft! What choice did he have?”

George touched the jewels at her throat. “He didn’t have to give me these jewels either, but he did.” She realized now why he’d given them to her before the wedding breakfast—so that all the guests would see and know that she had his approval and support. She was deeply touched by the thoughtfulness—and loyalty—of the gesture.

The duke was turning out to be rather different from the man she thought she knew.

Aunt Agatha glanced at the rubies and pursed her lips. “He should never have done so. His mother should have had them years ago—I know she asked for them often enough. They’re priceless, a treasured family heirloom, but the old duchess always refused to hand them over. Claimed they weren’t part of the entail and so she could choose who to give them to.” She shook her head. “But to give them to you, and after your disgraceful appearance at the church. Truly outrageous.”

Aunt Dottie bustled forward and gave George a warm hug. “You look stunning, dear girl—and oh! I see you’re wearing the famous Hartley parure. The old dowager duchess would have approved, I know.”

“And how would you know, Dorothea?” her sister said in an acid voice.

Aunt Dottie gave George a mischievous wink. “I know she despised her daughter-in-law, Aggie, dear. And our darling George is going to make her grandson very happy, so of course she would have loved her and wanted her to wear her jewels—especially as they suit her so well.”

George glanced at the duke on the other side of the room, talking to several men she didn’t know. Would she make him happy? She had no idea. Would he make her happy? She had even less of an idea.

*   *   *