“True, but there are other shops on Bond Street I can visit if I get bored,” he replied, as he walked her to the waiting carriage where her aunt was waiting for her.
“I am glad you are well enough to come with me this morning,” Adelaide told her as Ambrose helped them both into the carriage. “Ah, are you coming, too, Ambrose, dear? I should have guessed as much.”
“As long as you do not mind my company?”
“Not at all,” Adelaide quickly replied. “At the very least you may provide us with some amusement, since I doubt you know the first thing about perfume or any of the other things they are likely to sell there.”
“Well, if you wish me to be amusing, I am sure I can oblige you,” he replied cheekily as he got in and signaled the coachman to start.
Georgiana snickered slightly. “But we mean you are to be unintentionally amusing, without the need to try.”
“Then how much more will you laugh if I happen to be both intentionally and unintentionally funny?”
Their banter flowed easily during the trip. Georgiana was able, for the first time since the previous evening, to truly relax, and they arrived at the perfumery before she was even aware of it.
Ambrose, as he had said he would, went in with them. His whole face was alight with amusement, so much so that even Adelaide found it difficult at times to keep her smile within moderate bounds.
While Ambrose attempted to be funny, he never at any point did so in an inappropriate or unseemly fashion. The result was that those employed at the perfumery decided unanimously he was a most congenial young man.
Aside from perfumes, there were scented waters, lotions, and salts and oils for scented baths. Ambrose stood near the ladies, giving his opinion on certain scents when asked.
They purchased a few items, including some smelling salts for Georgiana, on Adelaide’s insistence. Once finished, they decided to make their rounds of some of the other shops along Bond Street.
At the booksellers, Georgiana eagerly inquired about Emma, to find there were no copies available just then but some were soon expected to be delivered.
Some embroidery thread, a new pair of gloves, and other random items were also purchased before they decided to return to Irvington Manor some hours later, to get ready for the soiree at Elwood Manor.
Georgiana’s good mood quickly evaporated, as she was reminded she would have to place herself under the ton’s scrutiny once again. What bothered her the most was knowing the dread she felt at the thought of seeing Walter again was mixed with a tiny bit of longing, too...
Chapter 8
When Walter saw the lightening of the sky outside his window, he sighed and rubbed at his weary eyes. “So much for getting some sleep,” he murmured to himself as he got out of bed.
Despite the late hour at which he had returned home, his thoughts had been far too consumed with seeing Georgiana again to sleep at all. No sooner had he turned his thoughts away from one aspect of her, than he would remember something else…
There was the ravishing way she had looked in that lovely pink dress— though he had tried not to notice it. There was the way she had worn her hair, and how she had always seemed to be by Rowley’s side.
Then, there were the things that made no sense to him, like how pale she had looked and how confused she had seemed at his words. Had she been feeling ill, or was her reaction somehow because of him? But why should seeing him make her nervous at all?
These questions, and more like them, were still going round and round in Walter’s mind. Not only had they made his sleep restless, but now they made him feel agitated and ill at ease.
Quickly dressing himself, he went for a brisk walk around the house as the sun rose. He hardly noticed the dampness of the dew as he tried to corral his thoughts.
His feelings about Georgiana had not changed in the slightest. He could admit it to himself, but those feelings were pointless. She was married now.
She had no doubt moved on from whatever feelings she had for him, though there had been moments when he had doubted she held any genuine feelings for him to begin with.
Then, why had she looked at him, smiled at him, talked with him in the way she had? Why had she let him kiss her if she had planned to marrying Ambrose Rowley all along?
Walter was brought to the present by a glimpse of his mother heading towards the dining room. Looking at his pocket watch, he found an hour had sped by. Quickly returning to his room, he changed out of his damp clothing and joined his mother for breakfast right on time.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said politely as he held her seat.
“Good morning … did you not sleep well?” Sylvia asked with a frown as she looked at him.
“Not really.”
“Then you should put a damp cloth over your face for a while, so it is not so obvious. We have both been invited to attend the soiree this evening, and it would be best if you looked more … rested,” she told him as they began breakfast.
Walter nodded as he was expected to. Attending another social event sounded like pure torture, but he had made a promise to his mother.
“Very well, I will try to take your advice about that. What time shall I be ready, and where is this soiree?”
“You should be ready by five o’clock, to give us time to get there. It is being hosted by the Dowager Duchess of Elwood at her manor.”
“If I go out today, I shall try to be back by four, then,” Walter told her.
Even though nothing of importance called him away from the house, he had a feeling his restlessness might require him to go for a ride or seek another activity to calm himself.
“That sounds fine. Just don’t be late, today of all days. We do not want to offend the duchess.”
“Is it safe to assume Miss Rutherford will be there?” He vaguely recalled she had mentioned it, but his mother would know.
“Of course,” Sylvia replied with the first genuine smile of the morning. “And you seemed to be getting along marvelously with her. Tonight will not be too soon for you to ask her permission to call on her outside social events, I would think.”
“Then, I will try to find a suitable time and way of asking her.”
“And be sure to have at least two dances with her over the course of the evening.”
“Oh? Not more?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm she seemed to miss entirely.
“No … two dances will do, for now. It is too early to monopolize her entirely,” was the serious reply. “There should be other things at the soiree you can engage her in, such as a game of cards.”
He didn’t bother making a verbal assent, instead choosing to eat a little, while his mother prattled on about the soiree, the music, the theme, and everything else about it.