Page 92 of Lyon of Least Resistance

“Quite right,” Mr. Ffortescue said. “Kind and sensible as well as beautiful. An excellent choice you’ve made there, Bedford.”

Cordelia met her husband’s gaze, and her heart swelled at the pride in his eyes.

“There’s no need to tell me something of which I’m already aware, Ffortescue,” James said, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”

Cordelia’s apprehension lessened as the tea party continued. Sir Iain barely looked in her direction, his attention focused on Georgiana.

As tea drew to a close and the footmen began to clear away the accoutrements, the guests milled about, as if looking for instruction.

What was she supposed to do? Order them inside? Members of the aristocracy didn’t take kindly to instruction. Perhaps she ought to announce the hour at which dinner would be served?

She glanced about. Where was Georgiana when she needed her? Excepting Sir Iain Leaney, the rest of the company were present, including Mr. Marlow, looking miserable as he tucked into his fourth slice of shortbread. Earlier she’d seen Georgiana circulating among the guests, engaging in the ineffectual remarks that passed for quality Society conversation.

Then she caught a flash of yellow silk through the gate leading to the walled garden and set off toward it. She heard voices before she reached her quarry.

“Such a ridiculous puppy, Georgiana. I can’t think why you invited him.”

Cordelia froze. The voice was Sir Iain’s.

“He’s charming, Sir Iain,” Georgiana said. “And it was Sir George and Lady Marlow I invited. I couldn’t exactly invite them without inviting Leonard.”

“Leonard, is it?” Sir Iain chuckled, and Cordelia suppressed the ripple of nausea at the thick layer of charm in his tone. “Somewhat familiar an address for a man not worthy to kiss the ground upon which you have walked.”

“Oh, Sir Iain! You do flatter me.” Georgiana let out a girlish giggle that ended in a fit of coughing.

“I cannot praise you highly enough, m’dear. That Marlow pup, on the other hand…did you see him spill his tea earlier? All down his waistcoat, which was as ill-fitting a garment as I’ve ever seen. Marlow’s tailor ought to be shot for such workmanship. But perhaps it’s one of Sir George’s hand-me-downs. Much as your sister, I imagine, wears your hand-me-downs.”

“Well, Margaret is—”

“Too plump to wear a gown that would once have been yours?” Sir Iain laughed. “I daresay she prefers breeches, given how she was telling Countess Stiles of her propensity to climb trees.”

“Oh dear, I—”

“Precisely, m’dear. That little brat should have grown out of such habits by now. How old is she? Twelve?”

“Nearly thirteen.”

“All the more reason why she should act with more decorum so as not to disgrace you. Young ladies who engage in tomboyish pursuits are never deemed suitable matches, and any disgrace attached to them reflects on the rest of their family. I can’t think what your brother is about, letting her run wild.”

“To be sure, he has somewhat liberal views toward her.”

“Has he ever given her the strap?”

“I-I think not.”

“He ought to. My father taught me that obedience and proper behavior can only be achieved through discipline.”

“Well…”

“If I were to be his brother, it would be my pleasure to instruct him. For the good of your family, of course. I care a great deal about your family, Georgiana, as I care a great deal about you. Though I’ve just had the most marvelous notion.”

“Which is?”

“Leonard Marlow is such a puppy that I’ve a mind to tell your housekeeper that he should sleep in the nursery tonight.”

Georgiana let out a giggle, and Cordelia opened the gate to see the two of them in an embrace.

“There you are!” she said brightly.