Defying the Duke: Book 3 Victorian Novella Series

Twenty

First Draft

London, 1863

Georgina dressed with care, since Lady Margaret would not hear of her staying home while they called on Lady Cathrine. She told the countess the trip had exhausted her and Lady Margaret announced they could all nap and rest up. Then, Georgina had faked a megrim, but Lady Margaret offered a headache remedy, and after fretting for hours, she'd given up, resigned to her fate.

After glancing in the mirror, Georgina realized she needed Scarlett's help. Her hair was a right mess and there was naught she could do with the tangled, wayward tresses. The London staff were a small group, and she hated to bother the young girl who wore many hats in the household. Georgina chewed her lip as she eyed the bell cord, looked in the mirror again, and sighed. Drat! I'll never tame this mess on my own.

Within minutes, Lady Margaret burst through the door in a dressing gown with Scarlett trailing close behind. "Oh, that will never do, child." Lady Margaret tsked, shaking her head while Scarlett deposited a tea tray containing a crystal decanter of brandy on the table under the window.

"Yes, 'tis why I rang for Scarlett, even though I know she's run off her feet. But as you can see, my coiffure is a mess." She pointed to her unruly hair and frowned.

"Not your hair, although it needs work. I mean your gown." Lady Margaret wrinkled her nose, shaking her head again. "'Tis all wrong, lass. Scarlett, be a dear and pour Auntie Margaret a brandy and Georgie some tea while I fetch her something more proper." Scarlett smiled at Georgina as she poured a hefty splash of brandy into a glass. "That's a poppet," Lady Margret said and threw open the armoire.

Once dressed again, Georgina stared at herself in the tall-looking glass, feeling self-conscience. While the peach gown was quite fetching and complimented her skin, it seemed too risque for afternoon tea. Georgina wasn't comfortable showing this much décolletage, but Lady Margaret always had the last word. She looked over at the tray still sitting under the window and wanted to help Scarlett by taking it to the kitchen. Poor girl had worked so hard! She had done wonders with Georgina's hair and was off to dress Lady Margaret and Mabel, having already attended to Lady Eleanor.

Georgina grabbed the handles and lifted the tray, watching the amber liquid sloshing around the decanter. Dare I? One drink would settle the nerves, she reasoned to herself. At the butterflies wreaking havoc in her tummy, she sat the tray down and poured a small measure into her empty teacup, and gulped it down. She coughed and sputtered, but enjoyed the warm sensation relaxing her limbs. One more won't hurt. With only a slight tinge of guilt, she imbibed in another brandy and left her chamber feeling confident.

To walk or ride the short distance was the argument that Lady Margaret won, and they all four clamored inside the carriage. "This is most ridiculous," Mabel said. "'Tis a hop, skip, and a jump to Lady Catherine's, Madge!"

"If you want to walk," Margaret ventured and opened the carriage door. "Then go on... hop, skip, and jump right on over, but I'm too old and cold for all that nonsense."

Mabel muttered something under her breath. "Close the door, you cantankerous old bat. I will not get back down now that I'm inside." She narrowed her eyes at Lady Margaret, who stuck her tongue out. Sometimes they were like bickering children.

Seconds later, they arrived in front of the Duke of Hayward's London residence. The countess handed her calling card to a tall and pompous-looking butler who bowed and allowed them entrance before taking their coats and hats. He guided them to a pink drawing room and Georgina giggled aloud, thinking about the Duke of Hayward having tea in this frilly feminine room. Pink, white, and splashes of light yellow with paintings of various flowers, bowls of dried petals, throw pillows, and plenty of fluffy rugs made up the room. It was too garish for Georgina's taste.