sat, he seemed just as ill at ease as she was. That made Georgiana feel a little sympathy at how worried he was for her…
“I understand you are worried, but I would prefer to hold out for as long as I can,” she told him gently.
He pursed his lips in clear displeasure but nodded. “Perhaps you can avoid talking to him? Having to sit across from him is more than enough for now.”
“If that will make you more comfortable, then, yes, I will not deliberately start a conversation with him. And if he tries to start one with me, I shall keep it brief.”
The promise seemed to moderately appease Ambrose, who took a bite of his food. Georgiana moved her food around on her plate, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat anything.
When one of the other ladies at the table addressed a question to her, she could barely concentrate enough to give even the appearance of having been listening to her.
Adelaide, apparently seeing Georgiana was not fit for conversation, took over and answered whatever question had been addressed to her niece.
“Well, we were not certain we were going to be able to attend this season. After all, I could hardly do so without arranging at least one garden party myself, and I am not quite as young as I once was.”
Georgiana sent a thankful smile to her aunt, as she tried to concentrate on the conversation. Aunt Adelaide simply smiled back at her with one of her determined looks. That piqued Georgiana’s interest for a moment, until her aunt continued, and she realized what she was up to.
“However, I am pleased to tell you all that I will be arranging a garden party this season. I have most of the details already in mind, but you know how troublesome it can be to get everything in place…”
Georgiana’s attention drifted, safe in the knowledge her aunt was subtly holding the reins of the conversation at that part of the table. Though she had rarely seen it happen, when Adelaide decided she wanted to control a conversation, no one else was ever able to get in so much as a word.
It was at moments like these that Georgiana felt her aunt to be fully the Countess of Irvington. And, on this occasion, the earl was assisting her in every way possible.
Telling herself she would have to thank them both later, Georgiana forced herself to eat a bite of food. Though she was certain it was excellent, she could not help but feel nauseated as she tried to swallow it.
Then again, part of that was quite possibly due to the fact the man she was seated across from was engaged in a quiet but animated conversation with the young lady beside him. Clarissa Rutherford was laughing at something Walter had said.
Georgiana felt her stomach twist again as the sound called forth memories of the many times he had made her laugh. She tried to keep the waves of memories at bay, but when she saw the centerpiece of the table, a pineapple of all things, she felt it impossible not to remember…
Georgiana laughed at Walter, covering her mouth with her hands to prevent herself from being inappropriately loud. “I seriously don’t think your friend Henry could possibly be quite as much of a character as you make him out to be!”
“You doubt me?” he had asked playfully. “Well, when he returns from the East, I will be sure to introduce you, so you can see for yourself how … exuberant he is.”
She had giggled slightly. “Yes, you must.”
“And I will have him bring you some exotic fruit when he comes—if he stays in one place long enough for me to get a letter to him, that is.”
Georgiana scrunched up her nose at that. “What if I don’t like the taste of it? No, if you are going to get me some special fruit, make it something I have already tasted and know I like.”
“But I have already planned to do that,” he told her, lifting her hand, and lightly kissing the back of it. “For your nineteenth birthday, I intend to bring you a whole pineapple for yourself. I will get a second one for you to use as a centerpiece.”
“Pineapple,” she stated flatly.
“Yes.”
“For my birthday.”
“That is what I said,” he replied with a smile.
“And how exactly do you plan to do that? You know full well pineapples are not ripe at that time of year.”