First Comes Scandal

“Oh, look, it’s the castle!” Georgie exclaimed, pointing at the grand fortress on the hill right in the middle of the city.

Marian scooted along the carriage bench to get a better look. “Oh, my,” she said with surprise. “It’s right here.” She looked over at Georgie. “Can we visit?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s used as a prison now.”

Marian gave a delicate shudder. “Perhaps not, then.”

“It may have other uses,” Georgie said. “We can find out. But we don’t have time today, anyway. We have far too much to do. Our first stop is the land agent.”

Marian turned sharply to face her. “What? You can’t do that. Not without Mr. Rokesby.”

Georgie folded her hands primly in her lap. “He has failed to do it without me, so I must take the reins.”

“Miss Georgiana”—Marian had not quite got used to referring to her as Mrs. Rokesby, and truth be told, Georgie had not quite got used to hearing herself referred to that way—“you cannot go to the land agent by yourself. It is not done.”

“It has not been done,” Georgie said with deliberate obtuseness. “That is true.”

“But—”

“Oh, look, we’re here.”

The carriage came to a halt outside a tidy office front, and Georgie waited while Jameson opened the carriage door and secured the steps.

“I’m going in,” Georgie said with steely resolve. “You may come with me, or you may remain in the carriage. But it will certainly be more proper if you come.”

Marian let out a noise that was probably meant to be a sigh. “You will be the death of me,” she muttered.

“Heavens, Marian. We’re not going into a brothel.”

Marian’s mouth pinched into a line as she looked up at the sign hanging over the door. “Is Mr. McDiarmid expecting us?”

“Likely not,” Georgie admitted. “But he will know who I am. Lord Manston has been in contact, I believe.”

“You believe.”

“I’m sure,” Georgie said, looking over her shoulder as she stepped out into the street. “It was a figure of speech.”

Marian still did not look convinced.

“He’s probably wondering what has been taking us so long,” Georgie said, giving the edges of her gloves a little tug so they fit smoothly over her fingers. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already found a house.”

“That would be exciting,” Marian allowed. “Although you wouldn’t want to try to take up residence today, would you?”

“No, no, that would be quite impossible,” Georgie said briskly. Tempting, but impossible. For now, she simply had to focus on securing a lease. Everything else would follow.

With one last look at Marian, she marched up the steps and pushed open the door. “Let’s get this done.”

“OH, THAT WAS brilliant!” Georgie exclaimed several hours later. She and Marian had settled into a table at the White Hart—practically around the corner from the anatomical theater where Nicholas sat for his lectures—and were sharing a pot of tea. “Wasn’t it brilliant?”

Marian opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, Georgie answered herself. “It was brilliant.”

Georgie faced the nearby open window and grinned up at the sky, which rewarded her with clear blue bliss. “We have a home!”

“We have a home at Scotsby,” Marian pointed out.

“Yes, but now we have one in Edinburgh. Which makes so much more sense. Mr. Rokesby can’t be riding back and forth every day.”

“He wasn’t riding back and forth every day,” Marian said.

Georgie rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Scotsby is beautiful, but it’s dreadfully inconvenient.” She laid a hand on her breast. “I’m a newlywed. My place is with my husband.”

“That is true,” Marian allowed. Georgie watched as she fanned herself, still trying to calm her nerves. Georgie wasn’t sure why the maid had been so overcome at the prospect of two women entering the land agent’s office; she had found it exhilarating.

Mr. McDiarmid had not wanted to lease a house to her. He hadn’t even wanted to show her a property. She needed her husband, he said. Or her father. Or her brother. Or someone who could make a decision.

“I assure you,” Georgie had said with all the ice in her veins, “I am fully capable of making a decision.”

Not that Georgie had much ice in her veins, but she’d seen her mother and Lady Manston in action. She knew how to fake it.

“Your husband will need to sign,” Mr. McDiarmid had replied, his voice as mincy as pie.

“Of course,” Georgie had sniffed. “But he is a very busy man. He has entrusted me to do all of the preliminary viewings so that he might weigh in only when truly necessary.”

Marian had almost gone and ruined the whole thing right then, coughing until her eyes watered. Fortunately Mr. McDiarmid had been distracted enough getting her something to drink that he didn’t hear Georgie when she hissed, “Stop that right now!”

Or when Marian said helplessly, “But Mr. Rokesby hasn’t entrusted you do anything.”

Honestly, Marian was the worst liar.

After another ten minutes of hemming and hawing, Mr. McDiarmid admitted that he had indeed received the request from Lord Manston, and he did have two properties in mind that might do for the young couple. But he absolutely, positively put his foot down at the idea of showing them to a lady without her husband. He absolutely, positively could not even entertain the idea until—

Georgie stood right up and announced that she would find a different agent.

It was remarkable how quickly they’d gone to see the first house after that.

Georgie had known instantly that it would not do. The floor was crooked, and it was painfully short on windows. But the second house—in the New Town Georgie had heard so much about—was perfect. Light, and airy, and ready to be leased fully furnished. The décor was not quite what Georgie would have chosen herself, but it was close enough. And if it meant she could move in sooner rather than later …

Blue was just as good as green for a sitting room. Honestly, she did not care.

“Have you had enough tea?” Georgie asked Marian, even though they’d barely been sitting for five minutes. “I want to go find Nicholas. Mr. McDiarmid said he can sign the lease today.”

“He’s going to be very surprised to see you,” Marian said.

“But good surprised,” Georgie said with more certitude than she actually felt. She didn’t think Nicholas would be angry that she’d taken care of the house on her own. But he might not like her coming to Edinburgh without informing him ahead of time. Men were funny that way. Still, what was done was done, and she was eager to share her news.

Mr. McDiarmid had inadvertently shown her the location of the medical school, boasting of its proximity to the houses he was showing her, and so Georgie was confident she knew where she was going as she, Marian, and Jameson made their way to Teviot Place.

Nicholas had told her about the grand anatomical theater, about the steeply tiered seats looking down at the small stage at the bottom. He’d told her that sometimes the lecturer just spoke, but sometimes there was a dead body down there, cut open for all to see.