“I am as well.” Georgie’s stomach made its agreement known. It was good to feel hungry again.
“After we eat, let’s take a walk to town.” Adeline tugged the bellpull. “I am in need of a new bonnet.”
That sounded like a good idea. A new bonnet, a party, and possibly a new gentleman. “An excellent idea.”
* * *
Gavin dragged a hand down his face. He’d spent the last two hours in a committee meeting and was on his way to the next one. Normally, the discussions would have held his interest, but today all he could think of was Georgie. He should stop sulking over her and do something. The problem was that he had no idea what to do.
“You look like hell.” The new Earl of Bolingbroke slapped Gavin on the back.
He felt like hell. If he’d known being rejected would cause this much agony, he never would have proposed. Drinking certainly had not helped. “I haven’t had a good couple of days.”
“It will get better,” Bolingbroke said loudly—although that might be the fault of the brandy Gavin had consumed last night—and much too cheerfully. “They always do. My grandfather always told me that, and he was right.”
“So I have heard.” Gavin wished the man would go away. Bolingbroke hadn’t even formally taken his seat in the Lords yet. “What are you doing here?”
“Seeing how things work. My grandfather told me a great deal, but I needed to see it for myself. I’ve been invited to a house party though. That will be a pleasant diversion until my ceremony.”
Who the devil would give a house party during the Season? Not that this autumn had been much fun. “A house party?”
“Indeed. Lady Turner and Mrs. Fitzwalter are hosting it,” Bolingbroke said. “I’ve known their husbands for years.”
Gavin felt his brows lowering without his consent. Blast it all, he couldn’t even control his own features. But something was nagging at him. “Aren’t their estates in Surrey?”
“They are. It’s not far from Town.”
And not far from Littlewood. Or from Georgie.
Bloody hellhounds!
How could he have forgotten? Turner’s and Fitzwalter’s estates bordered Littlewood.
The one thing he did not want was for other gentlemen to be sniffing around Georgie. “Do you happen to know who else has been invited?”
“Not really.” The man frowned. “I do know St. Albans is going.”
The Earl of St. Albans was a courtesy title and, from what Gavin had seen, the man had little to keep him occupied. “I’m surprised that he would consider a house party very interesting.”
“It depends which ladies are there.” A smirk briefly appeared on Bolingbroke’s face. “Then again, I’ve heard both Lady Turner and Mrs. Fitzwalter are pretty high sticklers. He might need a repairing lease.”
That sounded more likely, but it also meant that his lordship would be more than willing to entertain the ladies. “I wish you a good time.”
“Thank you. I hope you feel better.” Bolingbroke sauntered off. He was only a year or so younger than Gavin, but the man made him feel ancient.
Exeter came up as his lordship left. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
Gavin did not need to ask what his friend was talking about. It was Georgie. All of his thoughts, all of his difficulties revolved around her. “No. I was going to ride to Littlewood, but then I thought it would make me appear desperate.”
“You are desperate.” Exeter’s tone was as dry as sand.
“Yes, well, I don’t wish to look like I am, do I?” The more Gavin had thought about his plan to convince Georgie to marry him, the more it seemed like an idea that was bound to fail.
“I suppose it depends what you want,” his friend said unhelpfully.
What he wanted right now was to take a swing at someone. “You do realize that you are not being at all helpful?”
Exeter just shrugged. “Dorie heard from Georgie. According to what my wife told me, she is having a wonderful time visiting Littlewood. They are even going to attend some of the events at a house party.”
That was the last straw. “I’m going to Jackson’s. You’re welcome to join me if you wish.”
“Now?” Exeter sounded shocked. “But we have another meeting.”
“I need to hit someone, and it’s better I do it there than here.” Gavin was having trouble being polite to anyone at the moment.
“I shall tell you if anything of significance occurs.” Exeter placed his hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “I wish I could tell you what to do.”
“So do I.” He wished someone, anyone, could tell him what to do.
Chapter Five
Lucinda, the dowager Viscountess Featherton, was in the morning room of the house she shared with her oldest and dearest friend Constance, the dowager Duchess of Bridgewater. After searching for several months, they had been lucky to find the property on Mount Street that pleased both of them. Lucinda looked up from the letter she had received by messenger from the dowager Lady Littleton—what a pity that they all had dowager as part of their titles. There must be a better way to address widowed peeresses—in response to a letter Lucinda had written to her longtime friend. She was determined to find out whether Viscount Turley was indeed the right gentleman for Georgie. If not, she and Constance would simply have to find another prospect for the poor girl. “According to Cristabel, it appears that Viscount Turley’s father lost his beloved wife and proceeded to promptly lose his mind, leaving the boy to keep everything together at a young age. Ergo—”
“The stupid boy has decided that, despite all the evidence to the contrary, he might do the same.” Constance scowled. “Men are such fools.”
“Well, they can be,” Lucinda said slowly. “But you must admit that not all of them are.”
“No, no, you did a wonderful job raising yours. And if Turley’s mother had not died when the children were young, he would not be having this particular problem. But what are we going to do about it?”
“She—Cristabel has a plan.”
“I am glad someone does,” Constance grumbled.
Lucinda grinned. They had been going round and round and had still not come up with a suitable scheme. “She will arrive in Town late today. She might even be here now.” She did not even bother to give her friend the letter to read. Constance preferred to be told the information.
“Does she wish to stay with us?” Constance asked. “We can easily have rooms made up for her.”
“No, she has sent orders to open up Littleton House. Once she explained the matter to her son, Littleton agreed that she should become involved. I do hope she comes by soon after she arrives.” Lucinda found the passage she wanted in the letter. “She writes that Frits is convinced that Turley is in love with Georgie, but that he is too afraid of putting the viscounty at risk if he allows his heart to rule him.”
Constance grunted. “Perhaps I was a bit harsh when I said Turley was a fool.”
“He also opined that his friend was deluded for thinking that anyone can tell their heart what to do.” Lucinda had to agree. Although it was amazing how many people tried to do just that with horrible results.