Aunt Dottie did suggest—very quietly so her sister couldn’t hear—that George could always agree to the betrothal, and later, when the dust had settled, she could call it off. Girls were allowed to break betrothals; only men could not—well, they could, but then they’d be regarded as dishonorable scoundrels whose word of honor could not be trusted.

A man’s word of honor was held to be almost sacred, but if a woman gave her word, she wasn’t taken seriously. Because only men—only gentlemen—had a sense of honor. Apparently.

George hated the hypocrisy of that. If she gave her word, she’d keep it. Her sense of honor was just as reliable as any man’s. As any duke’s.

The duke was to call at eleven. Time crawled on.

By half past ten George was ready to climb the walls. Or murder Aunt Agatha who didn’t let up her lecturing for a moment. They’d all gathered in the drawing room to wait for the duke’s arrival.

“Of course you will accept, you stubborn child. You have no choice in the matter.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Agatha, but that’s not true,” Emm said serenely. “I made a vow when I first married Cal that all the girls would be free to choose their own future, and nothing has changed. Admittedly George is in an awkward situation, but—”

“Awkward? She has caused a scandal!”

Cal added his mite. “Seems to me the duke is as much to blame, if not more so. Can’t see George instigating a thing like that, myself.”

George grimaced. Her behavior had been totally uncharacteristic, she knew. She was only just starting to understand why. It was so frustrating the way nobody talked about these things—not to unmarried girls, anyway. It was infuriating to be kept in ignorance of how one’s body worked. At least George had been able to put two and two together because of her years growing up in the country. How did gently reared London girls ever work things out? She supposed they waited until they were married—and then it was too late. They were caught.

The clock in the hall chimed eleven. Cal glanced pointedly around the room. “And if the duke is so keen on this betrothal, where is he?”

Aunt Agatha sniffed. “So he’s late. He’s notorious for unpunctuality.”

“Maybe he’s changed his mind,” George said brightly.

“No matter what the duke does,” Aunt Agatha persisted, “a scandal has occurred and the family must handle it. And if you won’t send the foolish gel down the aisle, what do you intend to do?”