Page 85 of Lyon of Least Resistance

“It’s not done for the lady of the house to—” Georgiana began, but James interrupted.

“Yes it is, Georgiana. Just because you’re incapable of appreciating a little kindness and consideration, doesn’t mean that the rest of us shouldn’t. Apologize to my wife.”

“James, there’s no need…” Cordelia began, but James raised his hand.

“There’s every need. Well, sister?”

“I apologize,” Georgiana said sheepishly. “I do, however, trust that Charles will attend us for breakfast when our guests are here, unless Cordelia wishes to serve them all. And I hope you’ll behave, Margaret, in front of our guests.”

Margaret poked out her tongue and a piece of chewed fish fell onto her plate.

Georgiana rolled her eyes. “Damnation! Hasn’t Miss Flight taught you any manners?”

A snort came from the opposite end of the table, and James glanced up to see his wife hiding her smile behind her cup.

“Ha!” Margaret said. “Georgie cursed! Ought she wash her mouth out, brother? Miss Flight says I should wash my mouth out with soap and water when I curse.”

“I don’t curse,” Georgiana said.

“You said ‘bloody’ the other day when you cut your finger.”

“Hush, brat!”

Margaret pulled a face, then resumed eating. Cordelia glanced up at James and he smiled. His heart soared to see her return the smile.

She was right in that they came from different worlds, but perhaps, in time, they might be able to span the gulf between them.

Georgiana approached the buffet and spooned eggs onto her plate. Her eyes glistened with moisture as she sat and began to eat.

“Georgiana, is there anything I can help you with in preparing for the house party?” Cordelia said. “I would hate for you to do all the work when the task should fall to me.”

Georgiana opened her mouth and James frowned at his sister, meeting her gaze. She sighed and nodded.

“Thank you, that would be most kind,” she said. “Perhaps you could assist me with the place cards for dinner. My penmanship is not very good.”

“And you think mine’s better?”

“I happened to read the direction on the letter you wrote to your friend in London. You have a clear, bold hand.”

“Then I would be delighted, Georgiana, thank you.”

James nodded encouragement, and his wife smiled at him again—but this time it almost reached her eyes.

“I have the guest list here with me,” Georgiana said. “I was intending to write the place cards after breakfast.”

“May I see?”

“Of course.”

Georgiana fished a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to Cordelia, who unfolded it, sipping her tea.

Then she froze, and her cup slipped, spilling brown liquid onto the tablecloth.

“Oh, how clumsy of me!” she said, a little too brightly. “I must ring for Charles.”

She set the paper aside, rose, and approached the fireplace, where she rang the bell. Then she resumed her seat. But though she smiled, her eyes had hardened, their expression showing, for a heartbeat, a combination of fear and hatred.

As breakfast continued, Cordelia chatted animatedly—a little too animatedly—answering Margaret’s questions about yesterday’s picnic and promising to take her next time. Even Georgiana managed to be civil for the remainder of the meal.