Georgie muttered an unladylike oath as she smudged the ink on Lady Regina Phelpott’s name card for the supper which would be the final event of the much-anticipated soiree.

“Georgie!” Claire scolded, but her chiding held no heat. Claire had long since given up the role of impossibly perfect prig in public, and she’d never held those kinds of airs in private.

Claire shot a warning look toward the duchess, who’d strode in to oversee their last-minute preparations with all the authority of an army general. Or a duchess. She supposed both would scare the dickens out of an enemy.

Fortunately the duchess hadn’t heard her unladylike word.

“Frustrated, are we?” the duchess drawled as she reached Georgie’s side.

Or perhaps she had heard.

Georgie scowled down at the work she would now need to recreate. Blasted Lady Regina Phelpott. Why must she have only one L in her name? To the duchess, she said, “My apologies, Your Grace.”

To her surprise, the great Duchess of Roxborough laughed. Oh not a loud laugh, but a soft one—one that spoke of understanding. “I think I know what has you so distressed, Miss Cleveland.”

Georgie shot Claire a look, but Claire just shrugged, her expression echoing Georgie’s surprise.

“You do, Your Grace?”

“Certainly.”

Well, in that case—at least one of them did. Georgie focused on pulling out a new sheet of paper to start over again, avoiding the duchess’s probing look. It was true that she’d been feeling rather…out of sorts these past few days as the soiree rapidly approached. But she was hard-pressed to explain why.

She typically loved these events and everything having to do with them. The coordinating, the menu planning, the decorating. She scowled down at the name card in her hand. She typically even enjoyed employing her excellent calligraphy skills for such occasions. But for this particular gathering, each task had rubbed at her nerves, every question or conversation on the matter had her bristling with irritation, until now—one day before the event—she felt ready to snap at the next person who mentioned it.

The duchess was watching her carefully. “I sense that perhaps your discontent with this particular soiree has to do with certain attendees.” She gestured toward Lady Regina’s name card. “Certain attendees who are also being considered for another, far more exclusive event.”

Something ugly twisted inside Georgie and for the first time since she was a small child, she couldn’t force a laugh to fill an awkward silence. She’d learned at a young age that laughter was the best way to cheer a melancholy, tension-filled household. It was also the best response in the face of those who’d whisper her name or try to injure one with words. But now? Well, now her well-worn defense for a moment like this proved useless.

She was keenly aware that Claire was watching her as well. At first with amusement because Georgie was under the duchess’s scrutinizing eye, but now with a far more quizzical look. Her sister tilted her head to the side as if considering her anew.

As if she was honestly taking the duchess and her insinuations seriously.

“I’m afraid I do not understand your meaning,” she said sweetly and with as much innocence as she could muster.

Of course she understood. She might be a chatterbox, and Lord knew she loved to laugh, and dance, and tease, and any number of other things that made her inappropriate duchess material. But despite all that, she had some sense and only a simpleton wouldn’t see the point the duchess was trying to make.

She believed Georgie was jealous.

Ha! The very idea was laughable. Her jealous of these prim, stuck-up, boring ladies. It was so ludicrous she couldn’t even bring herself to laugh.

“It’s quite all right, dear,” the duchess said. For the first time the older woman with her elegant silver hair and her sharp, regal features, stopped being so very standoffish and looked almost…maternal.

Kind, even.

That was more unnerving and far more shocking than the duchess’s wild accusation.

“I want my son to be happy.” The duchess took a deep breath as though those words had been difficult to get out. In fact, the duchess did not look entirely at ease with this conversation nor the show of emotions, but she forged on like the regal commander she so clearly was.

Georgie risked a glance at Claire. Maybe her sister would know the proper way to respond to such a mundane yet shocking statement.

Claire was staring at the duchess with her mouth agape. Right, no help there.

“That is a lovely sentiment,” Georgie said uncertainly. “I’m sure any of these women will do their best to ensure his happiness.” She clamped her mouth shut, unwilling and unable to say any more kind words regarding the illustrious ladies of the list. Saying the little she had nearly made her stomach turn.

But pressing her lips together did nothing to silence that voice in the back of her head, the one that had been growing louder with each passing day. The one that refused to be shushed any longer.

Would these ladies make him happy? Would they make him smile? Would they make him laugh? Would they interrupt his oh-so-important work as she’d done just the day before for an impromptu walk through the park?

As if following her train of thought, the duchess spoke once more. “You and Rhys have been spending quite a bit of time together of late.”

It wasn’t a question so Georgie didn’t deign to answer. Yes, it was true. In the days since that odd yet sweet encounter in Hyde Park, they had spent a portion of each day talking and walking. Sometimes multiple times a day.

It wasn’t as though they planned it and it wasn’t as though they were doing anything wrong. They hadn’t kissed—not again, at least. And they were always well chaperoned. She thought to point that last bit out to the duchess but she missed her chance.

“While I might be old-fashioned, I can see the difference in him when you are near.” The duchess cleared her throat. “I suppose what I am trying to say is…you have my permission.”

“I have your—your—”

“Permission.” Claire filled in the blank and Georgie could have smacked her sister for all the amusement she wasn’t even trying to hide.

“Yes, I heard her,” Georgie said to Claire. “But I’m afraid I don’t understand.” She turned back to the duchess and tried to keep her tone even despite her shock. “With all due respect, Your Grace, I believe you are mistaken about the nature—”

“Do not concern yourself, Miss Cleveland.” The duchess was already walking away, sweeping toward the doorway with a sense of purpose. She paused in the doorway and turned back with uncharacteristic smile. One that could only be described as mischievous.

“I won’t mention my approval to Rhys as that will only prove to sway him in the opposite direction. I’m sure he’d figure it out eventually, but we don’t want him to take too long now do we?” She didn’t wait for an answer before walking out. Which was fortunate because Georgie was left speechless in her wake.

Claire, on the other hand, was doubled over with laughter. “You should see the look on your face,” she said through hoots of laughter. “It is too funny.”

Georgie was not amused. She turned to her sister, pointing toward the doorway where the duchess departed. “Does she truly think…but she can’t possibly—”

“Can’t she?” Claire asked, wiping tears from her eyes. “I must confess, I think she might be correct.”

Georgie frowned at her sister, who was normally the sensible one. “You cannot be serious.”

Claire’s expression softened to one of maternal tenderness. As the eldest sister, Claire always had been more of a mother to Georgie and Anne than their actual mother, who’d done her best to ignore their existence.

“Think about it, dear. The way you look at him, the way he acts around you…from where I’m standing, it certainly looks like love.”

Georgie stared at her but her mind had gone blank. “I have thought about it. You are both crazy. There is nothing between Rhys and I and—” Oh bother, that was the first time she’d used his given name so casually in conversation and it sounded intimate.

It also felt right. They had become close, there was no denying it. But the very idea…it didn’t bear indulging. There was no hope of a future with Rhys so she’d never let herself so much as consider it.

But now the idea seemed to nudge at her, asking for entry. It made her heart squeeze in her chest to the point that it was difficult to breathe, let alone speak. She shot to her feet. This feeling, whatever it was, seemed to spread throughout her body as the thought begged to be acknowledged. That little voice she’d been so keenly ignoring grew louder and louder.

Have you really not considered it? Have you not dreamed of it in those last moments before sleep and those blissful moments before wakefulness?

A future with Rhys. To love him and be loved in return.

The very thought of it winded her and she made for the door, ignoring Claire who called after her.

She needed fresh air. She couldn’t breathe and her heart was galloping away from her, too fast for her to keep up.

She didn’t stop until she reached the gardens and when she did, she stood still and waited for wave after wave of indescribable emotions to stop.

They didn’t stop. She was caught in a tidal wave, as though the duchess’s insinuations and Claire’s words had broken down a dam she hadn’t known she’d constructed.

It certainly looks like love.

But no, it couldn’t be. Could it? Certainly not. Claire was wrong, and so was the duchess. He wasn’t at all the type of man she’d dreamt of. He wasn’t a romantic and he certainly hadn’t swept her off her feet.

She looked down at said feet, remembering vividly the way his kiss had sent her reeling, the way nothing had been the same ever since—for better or for worse. He’d rarely left her thoughts, for one. He seemed to be on her mind at all hours of the day, even when they weren’t together.

She’d also discovered a new side of herself that she wasn’t terribly fond of since that kiss. One that begged her to seek out Lady Regina Phelpott and tear her hair out.

No, that wasn’t like her at all.

She hadn’t been herself since that fateful night and that kiss. But maybe that was all it was—one magical kiss. After all, it had been her first kiss. Maybe her head was turned because of its singular status. Perhaps if she kissed him again, she would cure herself of its spell.

She heard footsteps coming toward her and her heart rate picked up in response, as though it knew precisely who it would be.

Sure enough, Rhys turned a corner and strode toward her. He hadn’t spotted her yet and she had a moment to take in the sight of him. How had she not noticed how handsome he was before?

Even that furrowed brow seemed somehow dear, as though it were meant just for her—a challenge to her ability to make it disappear. And she could. She knew that now. She lived for the moments when she drew forth a smile, or even better, one of his low, rumbling laughs.

His gaze lifted and he spotted her, his dark eyes lighting up with an emotion so powerful it nearly sent her reeling all over again.

Her breath caught in her throat as he turned to walk directly toward her.

Oh mercy, could it be? Had she truly gone and fallen in love? The thought made her want to laugh and cry all at once.

He stopped in front of her and while she heard his low voice make the proper greetings and heard her own murmured responses, she wasn’t quite aware of what she was saying. She was too focused on his lips and the fact that she wanted to kiss them. Quite desperately, in fact.

The need was so intense that she found herself rationalizing the idea, dismissing the voice of propriety and reason that screamed bad idea.

But was it a bad idea? If these feelings really were a response to that first kiss, perhaps a second kiss would dispel them and help her come to her senses?

It admittedly wasn’t much of a theory, but combined with her body’s overwhelming need to experience his kiss again, along with the knowledge that this might very well be her last chance to have a moment alone with him before he married—it was enough to spur her into action.

“How are the preparations proceeding?” he asked.

Her answer was to throw herself against him and kiss him with everything she had.