one of the Threshfield ancestors. A Gainsborough. Quite the epitome of Gainsborough, actually. It will be the showpiece of Threshfield’s new collection. Won’t it, sir?”
The earl shrugged and laid his cane across his lap. “If we can agree on a reasonable price.”
“Of course,” Nick said with a sly smile in Georgiana’s direction. “And agreeing on a suitable price takes time.”
Drawing herself up as if she had a book balanced on her head, Georgiana said, “I see. I didn’t know you were so acquisitive, Threshfield.”
“Of course you did, my dear. How else could I have amassed my Egyptian collection, my classical antiquities, and all those Dutch, Italian, and English masterpieces?”
Georgiana whirled away from the two smirking men in a wave of swaying skirts and offended dignity. “I know what you’re up to, Threshfield, but I doubt Mr. Ross does.”
“What is that?” Ross asked, still smirking.
“The earl has other hobbies besides collecting art, Mr. Ross. His favorite is pricking the sensibilities of his family. Threshfield can hardly wait for tea, because then he can watch his nephew’s apoplexy when he learns that the earl is playing host to a man of ill breeding, a man in trade with the manners of a dockworker.”
She waited long enough to see Ross’s smirk turn to a scowl, then sank in a curtsy and marched out of the library. Feeling as if she were sizzling on a grill, Georgiana crossed the saloon and went outside. Fortunately, tea was being held on the grassy lawn beneath a canopy of sheer gauze that gently fluttered in the breeze.
The walk down the curved stairs, past the Italian fountain with its unicorn centerpiece, gave her time to master her fury. Contrariness had always been one of Threshfield’s most annoying traits. Once he fastened on an idea, he rarely abandoned it. Knowing that there was nothing Ross could do to hinder his marital plans, he’d invited the man just to upset Evelyn and Prudence. It was now up to her to make Mr. Ross so uncomfortable that he would abandon his charge and quit Threshfield. Doing so would afford her great satisfaction.
Georgiana hesitated as she neared the canopy, for Evelyn and Prudence were already seated. Enduring them would test her already burdened patience. She could see Prudence’s rings flash in the late-afternoon sunlight. The lady was short, like the queen, with a body that tended to run to fat. Her features all repeated the roundness of her body—circular eyes, bulbousnose, and a mouth that pinched into a tight, round little button.
Glancing over her shoulder, Georgiana saw the infamous Mr. Ross walking beside the earl’s wheelchair as Threshfield’s attendant pushed him across the lawn. Four hefty footmen trailed behind. They always lingered within calling distance, ready to pick up the chair and transport their master up or down stairs.
“Do hurry up, Georgiana,” Prudence called to her in her customary sniping tone. “I’ve poured your tea, and it’s getting cold.”
Georgiana seated herself as far away from Evelyn as she could. This put her next to the disgruntled Prudence. Perhaps her moodiness was due to the fact that she surely knew that her marriage to the heir to an ancient earldom had depended upon her immense marriage settlement.
In spite of the lack of sympathy between them, Georgiana felt compassion for this dumpy little person married to the handsome Evelyn. She was sure Prudence sought consolation by drenching herself in jewelry, especially rings, and dressing herself in the height of fashion in the most luxurious of materials. Today she wore a gown of an unfortunate mustard color that sallowed her complexion and failed to complement her oak-brown hair.
The earl and Mr. Ross arrived, and there was a great fuss to get Threshfield settled comfortably next to Georgiana. She was grateful for the distraction, because Ross had regained his smirk, possibly because Evelyn and Prudence had heard of his arrival and
The earl shrugged and laid his cane across his lap. “If we can agree on a reasonable price.”
“Of course,” Nick said with a sly smile in Georgiana’s direction. “And agreeing on a suitable price takes time.”
Drawing herself up as if she had a book balanced on her head, Georgiana said, “I see. I didn’t know you were so acquisitive, Threshfield.”
“Of course you did, my dear. How else could I have amassed my Egyptian collection, my classical antiquities, and all those Dutch, Italian, and English masterpieces?”
Georgiana whirled away from the two smirking men in a wave of swaying skirts and offended dignity. “I know what you’re up to, Threshfield, but I doubt Mr. Ross does.”
“What is that?” Ross asked, still smirking.
“The earl has other hobbies besides collecting art, Mr. Ross. His favorite is pricking the sensibilities of his family. Threshfield can hardly wait for tea, because then he can watch his nephew’s apoplexy when he learns that the earl is playing host to a man of ill breeding, a man in trade with the manners of a dockworker.”
She waited long enough to see Ross’s smirk turn to a scowl, then sank in a curtsy and marched out of the library. Feeling as if she were sizzling on a grill, Georgiana crossed the saloon and went outside. Fortunately, tea was being held on the grassy lawn beneath a canopy of sheer gauze that gently fluttered in the breeze.
The walk down the curved stairs, past the Italian fountain with its unicorn centerpiece, gave her time to master her fury. Contrariness had always been one of Threshfield’s most annoying traits. Once he fastened on an idea, he rarely abandoned it. Knowing that there was nothing Ross could do to hinder his marital plans, he’d invited the man just to upset Evelyn and Prudence. It was now up to her to make Mr. Ross so uncomfortable that he would abandon his charge and quit Threshfield. Doing so would afford her great satisfaction.
Georgiana hesitated as she neared the canopy, for Evelyn and Prudence were already seated. Enduring them would test her already burdened patience. She could see Prudence’s rings flash in the late-afternoon sunlight. The lady was short, like the queen, with a body that tended to run to fat. Her features all repeated the roundness of her body—circular eyes, bulbousnose, and a mouth that pinched into a tight, round little button.
Glancing over her shoulder, Georgiana saw the infamous Mr. Ross walking beside the earl’s wheelchair as Threshfield’s attendant pushed him across the lawn. Four hefty footmen trailed behind. They always lingered within calling distance, ready to pick up the chair and transport their master up or down stairs.
“Do hurry up, Georgiana,” Prudence called to her in her customary sniping tone. “I’ve poured your tea, and it’s getting cold.”
Georgiana seated herself as far away from Evelyn as she could. This put her next to the disgruntled Prudence. Perhaps her moodiness was due to the fact that she surely knew that her marriage to the heir to an ancient earldom had depended upon her immense marriage settlement.
In spite of the lack of sympathy between them, Georgiana felt compassion for this dumpy little person married to the handsome Evelyn. She was sure Prudence sought consolation by drenching herself in jewelry, especially rings, and dressing herself in the height of fashion in the most luxurious of materials. Today she wore a gown of an unfortunate mustard color that sallowed her complexion and failed to complement her oak-brown hair.
The earl and Mr. Ross arrived, and there was a great fuss to get Threshfield settled comfortably next to Georgiana. She was grateful for the distraction, because Ross had regained his smirk, possibly because Evelyn and Prudence had heard of his arrival and
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