A Reckless Wager by Christine Donovan
Chapter Three
When she realized Lady Osborne was escorting the viscount towards her, Georgiana almost slithered off her chair. Her heart beat so fast she thought it might burst through her chest. Her hands shook, and her knees knocked together. When it came time to stand and curtsy, she panicked, picturing herself collapsing in a heap of pale purple satin at the viscount’s booted feet. Nicely polished Hessians, she’d admit, but she didn’t want to visit them up close. No fancy dress shoes with buckles and heels for the viscount. Her heart sped up now, thinking him too manly to wear such feminine shoes. The viscount was no Beau Brummel. Even though being dressed as a dandy was all the rage, she preferred how the viscount dressed. Dark colors and manly. No shocking chartreuse for him. She had to fight not to gawk at the older gentlemen who dressed just so while shopping for their young brides.
Enough dawdling and back to the viscount. His dark hair hung unusually long for the fashions of today. His superfine brown coat fit him perfectly, along with his buff-colored breeches. Cream and tan paisley waistcoat and off-white cravat complemented his ensemble.
His looks aside, that was the most awkward time spent in Viscount Blackstone’s presence. Not at all as she imagined meeting the man of her dreams for the first time. She’d dreamt of waltzing scandalously close and then sneaking a private moment in a dimly lit garden alone with him on numerous nights. How disappointing to find out he was such a bore and couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Perhaps it was time to stop dreaming of the viscount and prepare to be a spinster and a burden upon her papa and aunt for the rest of her days, never having lived her life to the fullest potential. Whatever that may be. She didn’t understand why she’d been punished with wallflower status. Her papa was an earl and very rich. She was his only daughter. Anyone she married would receive a large dowry and inherit all properties not entailed to the crown, per her father’s will. Anything linked to the earldom would go to her cousin, Robert. Still, she should be marriage-worthy, shouldn’t she?
So what if she rode a horse better than some men. Shot a rifle better than her papa. She liked to garden and get her hands dirty, not just point to a servant and have them plant. So what if she wasn’t your average, boring debutant? As she buried herself beneath the counterpane and closed her eyes, she prayed there was someone out there for her to marry.
“It’s done,” Pansy said to Octavia the following morning as they shared tea and biscuits per usual.
“What is done?”
Pansy smiled as she placed her china cup down on the matching saucer without a sound. “Set my matchmaking skills in motion. I introduced Viscount Blackstone and Lady Georgiana Knightly.” Pausing, she patted her perfect coiffure. “And I don’t want to put on airs, but I could see plain as day the attraction that sizzled between them.”
Octavia laughed. “Oh please, you say the same thing every time you try to make a match.”
“Yes, well, I’m right most of the time.”
Now Octavia frowned into her tea cup. “You may have a point. But I will have to wait and decide for myself when I witness them together in Bath.”
Now it was Pansy’s turn to laugh. “I don’t intend to fail. I know what I saw. My eyes may be old and tired, but there was interest and attraction. One didn’t need to see to feel the vibrations coming off those two.”