Page 12 of Prince of Scandal

How adorable it was!

Georgiana clasped her hands and gazed eagerly at the sight in front of her. Numerous wooden stalls offered every item imaginable, from carved wooden toys to freshly cut flowers, produce, sweets, embroidered pillowcases and pincushions, bags of dried herbs, even a tinker offering thimbles and combs and hair ribbons. Further along, there were several games set up: a ring toss, hopscotch, skipping ropes, a group of laughing children playing blind man’s bluff, and what looked to be an unusually tense match of Pall Mall for the adults.

“Gigi! You’re here!”

She turned and grinned at Phoebe. “Good afternoon. I was just admiring the setup. Your job?”

“Indeed,” said the brunette, as she linked arms with Georgiana and coaxed her on. “Come and see the rest. There is dancing in the hall, and some delicious food to purchase. I hope you brought your coin purse.”

“Of course. My new maid mentioned something about marzipan that nearly starts a war each year?”

Phoebe giggled. “Mary is quite correct; Mama’s marzipan is very, very good. I shall ensure you get some; the benefits of befriending the right people!”

“I knew you would be good fun,” said Georgiana happily. “Is your beau here? I should like to meet this older rake you reformed.”

“Oh yes! Now, I must warn you, he’s not the most handsome man in Norfolk. But he’s sweet and kind and generous, and does this thing with his tongue that makes me see stars,” Phoebe finished in a whisper.

Georgiana almost stumbled on the hall steps. Then she glanced at the other young woman, who stared back with gleaming eyes and ruby-red cheeks. “Why Miss March, you vixen. Tell me everything.”

“Not what you expected to hear from a vicar’s daughter, I’m sure. I am still a virgin, but with some not-so-gentle encouragement from me, Sir Alan demonstrated there are many pleasures to be had outside the marital act. I must say, couples really are given a lot of freedoms once their betrothal is announced. I never thought carriage rides could be so exciting.”

Pure envy speared through Georgiana. Phoebe might be virgin still, but she had progressed far, far beyond her own experiences. She had a man who loved her and knew about pleasure. Just like Lilian and Pippa.

“I’m so pleased for you,” Georgiana said wistfully. “Every woman should experience that.”

“I couldn’t agree more…Sir Alan! Darling, I’d like you to meet my newest and dearest friend, Mrs. Gigi King. Gigi is a widow who just arrived in Brundall from the wilds of London.”

A portly, dark-haired, and well-dressed man not much taller than Phoebe stepped forward, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. Then he bowed and kissed Georgiana’s hand. “Delighted to meet you, Mrs. King. Phoebe has been on tenterhooks waiting for your arrival, haven’t you, Blossom? How lovely to have a friend her own age, rather than a passel of creaking ancients like myself and Latimer.”

Georgiana barely suppressed a gasp. Her neighbor was here? Where? “What fiddle-faddle, sir. You look in fine form, an excellent match for dear Phoebe. I bet you dance beautifully together.”

Phoebe snort-giggled. “We do. Where is Mr. Latimer? I wanted to introduce him to Gigi. See if we couldn’t coax him to dance.”

“Here, Miss March,” said a deep, stern voice behind them.

Georgiana shivered in delight.

Thank you, Lord.

* * *

How dare Georgiana King look so beautiful, so damned innocent, when he knew for a fact she was a brazen hoyden?

Ashton tried to keep his eyes on Miss March, but his gaze kept sliding sideways to rest on Mrs. King. Even more so than the shirt and breeches, the white gown was struggling to contain her luscious curves. If she belonged to him, he would add a splash of color to the ensemble; a cherry-red backside for thinking that scrap of muslin tucked into her neckline did anything other than emphasize the finest breasts in England.

What if it dislodged?

He groaned softly. Christ, he needed to leave the fete at once. A church hall was not the location to be pondering such things, especially wearing form-fitting breeches.

“Mr. Latimer?” said Miss March, her gaze quizzical. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” he replied swiftly. “Quite well. Nothing that a few bites of your mother’s marzipan won’t fix, anyway.”

“Well, once I have properly introduced you to my new dearest friend, the four of us can trot over to the sweet stall and purchase a great quantity. Mr. Ashton Latimer, may I present Mrs. Gigi King, from London. Mrs. King is renting Rose Cottage, so you are neighbors. How wonderful is that?”

His new nemesis curtsied politely, but her hot emerald gaze promised a world of wicked delights. Saucy minx!

“Mr. Latimer,” she said huskily.