“Nonsense! Every gel needs a husband. And, all appearances to the contrary, you are the daughter of an earl and need to marry and be a credit to your family.”

The flat dismissal of her views infuriated George. “Not me. I don’t want a husband, I don’t need one and I won’t have you or anyone else arranging one for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, child.”

“It’s not ridiculous and I’m not a child. I’m almost twenty and—”

“And well past the age you were married and off your aunt’s and uncle’s hands. Ashendon and Emmaline are starting their own family.” Aunt Agatha gestured to Emm’s swollen belly, then trained her lorgnette on her rebellious great-niece.

George put up her chin and glared back. She wasn’t sure whether the old lady actually needed the eyeglass to see with, or whether it was just her chosen weapon of intimidation. Whatever the reason, George would not be intimidated.

Aunt Agatha continued, “Ashendon’s sisters are now married—in however scrambled a fashion—and their future is taken care of. There is only yourself remaining—an ill-mannered, unfeminine, ignorant, tomboyish hoyden with no idea of ladylike or even polite behavior—and worse!—no interest in acquiring it. You should be grateful that I’m taking an interest in your future.”

“Grateful? For unwarranted and unasked-for interference?” George was ready to explode. The insults stung; there was no denying there was some truth in them, but she would never let Aunt Agatha get the better of her.

“You cannot expect your uncle and his wife to care indefinitely for his late brother’s unwanted and unacknowledged offspring—especially a gel who’s more trouble than she’s worth. A charitable gesture is one thing, an embarrassing millstone quite another.”

Emm sat up angrily. “George is not a millstone, Aunt Agatha! Nor is she an embarrassment. She’s a dear sweet girl and a beloved member of our family and as far as I am concerned she can live with us until . . . until she’s a hundred years old!” She reached out a hand to Cal and he took it, a silent gesture of support.

Aunt Agatha gave a dismissive wave. “That is your condition speaking, Emmaline. Breeding women are notoriously hysterical.” She turned to Cal. “You see? Yet again Georgiana is causing your wife distress. And endangering The Heir.”

“I’m not the one upsetting people,” George muttered.

“Now look here, Aunt Agatha,” Cal began.

“Oh, don’t worry, Cal,” George said. “I know better than to mind the spiteful outpourings of an interfering, officious, presumptuous old b—”

“George,” Emm said in a warning tone. George glanced at her and bit off the remainder of the insults she had stored away. She would cross swords with Aunt Agatha any day, but upsetting Emm was another matter.