“To whom you were rushing,” she clarified. “You had not noticed that she was pretty.”
“No.” He deliberately did not look at her then, because he did not wish to see the understanding and the surprise and the interest he heard in her reply.
“I see.”
Lord deliver him from sisters.
Chapter 9
. . . in case of fire, this paper cautions you to resist relying upon the Viscount Galworth’s horses for escape. They never run as fast as one would wager . . .
. . . Meanwhile, Lady G— continues to edge away from her dreadful and utterly unsuitable moniker. There’s been not a scandal in sight this season, though, in truth, this author is somewhat disappointed . . .
The Scandal Sheet, April 27, 1833
“Tell me again why we are walking here and not down there with all the others?”
Georgiana looked to Caroline, surprised by the question. They’d been wandering the edge of the Serpentine for the afternoon—something they’d done a dozen times before, whenever Caroline was in town.
But they’d never done it while Georgiana was out and on the marriage mart. And in all the times that they’d done it, Caroline had never asked that question—why here, and not Rotten Row.
Georgiana supposed that she should have been prepared for it. After all, Caroline was nine, and girls eventually learned that the world did not solely exist for their pleasure. Eventually, they learned that the world existed solely for the pleasure of the aristocracy. And so, this close to throngs of aristocrats, Caroline was bound to ask.
“Do you wish to walk down there with the others?” Georgiana asked, evading her daughter’s original, pointed question. Willing her to answer in the negative. She didn’t think she could face the stares if they took their afternoon ride with the rest of London. She didn’t think she could stand the way they whispered about her. The way they whispered about her daughter.
Being within sight of them made things bad enough.
“No,” Caroline said, turning to peruse the crush below. “I was just wondering why you didn’t wish to be there.”
Because I should rather spend an afternoon being ritually stung by bees, Georgiana thought. She supposed she couldn’t quite tell her daughter that. She settled on, “Because I would rather be here. With you.”
Caroline cut her a disbelieving look, and Georgiana was struck by the honesty in her pretty, open face—by the way her wide eyes filled with knowledge far beyond her years. “Mother.”
She supposed she was responsible for that, for the knowledge. For the fact that Caroline had never in her life acted her age—she’d always known more than a child should. It came with being a scandal. “You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you wish to spend the afternoon with me, but I don’t believe that is the reason we are not down there. The two are not mutually exclusive.”
There was a pause, after which Georgiana said, “You are too intelligent for your own good.”
“No,” Caroline said thoughtfully. “I am too intelligent for your own good.”
“That is definitely true. Would you believe me if I promised to take you to Rotten Row the next time we come to the park?”
“I would,” Caroline allowed, “but I did notice that the promise is contingent upon us returning to the park, full stop.”
Georgiana laughed. “Foiled again.”
Caroline smiled, and they walked together for a few quiet minutes before she said, “Why are you planning to marry?”
Georgiana nearly choked on her surprise. “I—”
“It was in this morning’s newspaper.”
“You shouldn’t be reading the newspaper.”
Caroline gave her a dry look. “You’ve been telling me to read the newspaper since before I could read. ‘Ladies worth their salt read newspapers,’ do they not?”
Caught. “Well, you shouldn’t be reading anything about me.” Georgiana paused. “In fact, how did you know it was about me?”
“Please. The gossip pages are designed to be obvious. Lady G—? Sister to Duke L—? With a daughter, Miss P—? In actuality, I was reading about me.”
“Well,” said Georgiana, casting about for something to say that was appropriately parental. “You shouldn’t be doing that, either.”
Caroline looked at her, those brilliant green eyes, at once so knowing and curious. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“What was the question?”
Caroline sighed. “Why are you looking to marry? And why now?”
She stopped walking and turned to face her daughter, not knowing quite what to say, but knowing that she must say something. She’d never lied to her daughter, and she did not think it right to begin now, with the most difficult question she’d ever asked. She thought she’d simply open her mouth and let the words come out. It might not be articulate, but it would give Caroline an answer.
But by the grace of God, she did not have to find words. Because behind Caroline’s horse, Duncan West came up the rise.
Her savior.