Chapters (29)
- Cover
- PRAISE FOR
- Titles by Anne Gracie
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Epilogue
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“I shall come upstairs with you,” Aunt Agatha announced majestically and rose from her chair. “We can talk as you change. A nice cozy chat between gels.”
George grimaced. A nice cozy chat between gels? As cozy as sitting down with a python. But her great-aunt was not to be denied. She followed George up the stairs to her bedchamber and watched critically as she changed her clothes with the assistance of Milly, the maid.
The minute Milly left the room, Aunt Agatha started on her. “I gather you are determined to repudiate the duke’s offer.”
“I have already declined it.”
Aunt Agatha’s lips thinned. “And your uncle and aunt by marriage refuse to intervene.”
Her words warmed George. Dear Cal and Emm. “Good.”
Aunt Agatha’s eyes were like gimlets. “Then if yet another Rutherford gel is going to jilt the Duke of Everingham and cause an even worse scandal, the least you can do, Georgiana, is to explain it to the duke’s mother—”
“The duke’s mother? But—”
“The duchess is in extremely poor health and is mightily distressed by the way her son has been treated by the gels of this family. The least you can do is to face her in person and explain your pathetic reasoning. That way the poor lady might understand, and it will perhaps give her a little peace of mind—relieve her of the suspicion that her son has been at fault—”
“But it is his fault. He’s the one—”
“Nonsense! He did the honorable thing and announced your betrothal. You’re the one who behaved like a hussy—worse than a hussy! I saw it with my own eyes! And now you are courting even more gossip and scandal by refusing him. Any other young lady would graciously accept her fate—what am I saying? Accept her fate? Marriage to a handsome young duke, one of the richest men in the kingdom is not a fate, it is a blessing! Any gel would be thankful to be in such a position, but not you! Oh, no, not my great-niece. I am ashamed, deeply ashamed, that a relative of mine could behave so shabbily.”
George gritted her teeth.
“So you must meet the duchess and explain that her son has done all he ought in this matter and is in no way at fault.”