“I suppose everyone is just waiting to see if I turn up pregnant,” Georgie said.

“Georgiana!”

“Oh, please, Mama. You know that’s what everyone is wondering.”

“I’m not.”

“Because I told you I didn’t lie with him. And you believe me. But no one else will.”

“I assure you that is not true.”

Georgie gave her mother a long stare. They’d had this conversation already, and they both knew the truth, even if Lady Bridgerton was loath to say it out loud. It did not matter what Georgie said. Society would assume Freddie Oakes had had his way with her.

And how could she prove them wrong? She couldn’t. Either she showed up in nine months with a baby and everyone congratulated themselves on being right about that Bridgerton chit, or she kept her svelte figure and they all said that it didn’t prove a thing. Lots of women didn’t get pregnant on the first try.

She was still soiled goods, baby or no.

“Well.” Her mother stood, clearly deciding that the conversation was more than she could bear. Frankly, Georgie couldn’t blame her. “Dinner is in two hours.”

“Do I have to go?”

“Yes. Your brother is coming, as is Violet, and I believe they are bringing the boys to spend the night in the nursery.”

“Can’t I go eat with them?” Georgie asked, only half jesting. At least Anthony and Benedict didn’t realize she was a pariah. Up in the nursery she was still jolly Aunt Georgie.

Her mother gave her a steely look, indicating that she heard the comment and was choosing to ignore it. “Lord and Lady Manston are coming as well, as are George and Billie. And I believe Nicholas is down, too.”

“Nicholas? Isn’t he meant to be in Edinburgh?”

Lady Bridgerton gave a delicate shrug. “All I know is what Helen told me. He came down early.”

“That’s very odd. The term ends next month. I should think he would have exams.”

Her mother looked at her curiously.

“I pay attention to details,” Georgie said. Honestly, didn’t her mother know this about her by now?

“Regardless,” Lady Bridgerton said, setting her hand on the doorknob, “you cannot cry off now. He’s come all this way.”

“Not to see me.”

“Georgiana Bridgerton, you cannot molder in your room.”

“I wasn’t planning to. Toasted cheese with the boys sounds marvelous. We’ll build a fort. And I’ll bring the cats.”

“You can’t bring the cats. They make the baby sneeze.”

“Very well, I won’t bring the cats.” Georgie smiled magnanimously. “But we will build a fort. Nicholas can join us if he wants. He’d probably prefer it to dinner with you lot.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not, Mama. I’m really not.”

“You are an adult, and you are having dinner with the adults, and that is final.”

Georgie stared at her mother.

Her mother stared back.

Georgie gave in. Or maybe she gave up. “Fine.”

“Good.” Her mother pulled the door open. “This will be good for you. You’ll see.” She started to exit, but then Georgie stopped her.

“Mama?”

Lady Bridgerton turned around.

Georgie realized she didn’t know why she’d called out. Somehow, despite all the ways her mother had been driving her absolutely batty—she just hadn’t been ready to let her go.

“Do you think …”

Georgie went quiet. What did she want to know? What would help? Anything?

Her mother waited, quiet. Patient.

When Georgie finally did speak, her voice was small. Not weak, but small. And tired. “Do you think that somewhere there is a society where men can’t do things like this to women?”

Her mother went still, which to Georgie seemed odd, because it wasn’t as if she’d been moving before. But somehow the stillness spread. From her body to her eyes to her very soul.

“I don’t know,” her mother said. “I hope so. Or at least I hope there will be.”

“But not now,” Georgie said. They both knew it was the truth. “Not here.”

“No,” her mother said. “Not yet.” She turned to go, then paused to look back over her shoulder. “You will come to dinner?”

It was a request, not an order, and Georgie felt an unfamiliar prick of tears behind her eyes. Not the tears—those were familiar. She’d cried a lifetime’s worth of tears in the past few weeks. Tears of sorrow, of frustration, of rage.

But this was the first time in a long time she’d felt gratitude. It was amazing how nice it felt to be asked rather than told. To have someone recognize the fact that she was a human being and deserved the right to make her own choices, even if it was about something as trivial as dinner.

“I’ll be there,” she told her mother.

She might even enjoy herself.

She picked up one of the cats as her mother left the room. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to enjoy herself. But she supposed she could try.

Chapter 4

Georgie was trying to decide just how long she could put off heading downstairs after dressing for dinner when what sounded like a small herd of lead-footed foxes ran past her room.

She grinned. For real. Her nephews were here.

She bounded off her bed and pulled open the door just as her sister-in-law walked by. Violet immediately pivoted and bustled into the room, baby Colin in her arms. “Georgie!” she exclaimed. “It is so good to see you. How are you? Tell me everything. What can I do?”

“I—Well …” Where to start?

“Here. Hold the baby, would you?” Violet thrust Colin forward, and Georgie had no choice but to take him.

He immediately began to scream.

“I think he’s hungry,” Georgie said.

“He’s always hungry. Honestly, I don’t know what to do with him. He ate half of my meat pasty yesterday.”

Georgie sent a horrified look at her little nephew. “Does he even have teeth?”

“No,” Violet replied. “He just gummed the whole thing down.”

“You little monster,” Georgie said affectionately. Colin gurgled, clearly judging this to be a compliment.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t been over,” Violet said. “Colin was ill, nothing too serious, but he was coughing, and it was just a terrible sound, hoarse and barky. I didn’t want to leave him.”

“It’s all right, Violet,” Georgie assured her. “Your children must come first.”

“Also, your mother said you wanted to be alone.”

“She wasn’t wrong.”

“Four weeks of being alone is enough, though, I think. Don’t you?”

“We’ll find out tonight.”

Violet smirked at that. “Has everyone else arrived? What am I saying? I don’t even know who is coming.”

“Billie and George. Lord and Lady Manston. Andrew and Poppy, perhaps?”

“No, they’re visiting her family in Somerset. One of her brothers just got married.”