coyly but sincerely at them both, and at the third gentlemen, who seemed to realize he stood no chance of a dance with her at that time.
“Perhaps you should try again, one at a time?”
She had found it quite entertaining, seeing the two gentlemen exchange less than friendly glances. Finally, the man she recognized as Baron Bartlett, being higher in rank than the other, spoke first.
“I was attempting to tell you that pink is assuredly your color and suits your complexion exquisitely, Miss Montgomery. Of course, the best way to show it off to everyone present is on the dancefloor, where the lighting is even better.”
“And I came over here expressly to ask you to dance myself,” the other gentlemen had put in hastily.
Georgiana had pretended to consider their words, though, in her heart, her decision had already been made. “My apologies, good sir, but I am afraid Baron Bartlett has secured this dance, due to the pretty way he has asked for it. But you may have the next one.”
The other gentleman had bowed out as graciously as he could after writing his name on her card for the next dance. The next moment, Georgiana had taken the arm of the baron.
As he led her into position to dance, he had asked her, “So, you know of me? I would have remembered being introduced to you, Miss Montgomery, I am sure.”
She had raised her eyebrows as the dance began. “Oh? It seems you know of me also, though I am equally certain we have never been formally introduced before.”
“Perhaps we should make up for lost time, then.”
“You can step down now, Miss.” Georgiana was drawn out of the past, as the seamstress directed her to step off the small pedestal where she had been standing while her hemline was examined.
“Here, let me help you, dear,” Adelaide said, and offered a hand to Georgiana.
Holding Adelaide’s hand, Georgiana couldn’t help but notice a few more ladies enter the modiste’s. Even after her feet were on the ground, she kept her hand tightly gripping her aunt’s. Instead of going forward in greeting, Georgiana was acutely aware of the fact the women had instantly noticed her presence and began whispering amongst themselves. While not directly discourteous, the slight was keenly felt.
“Are you alright, dear?”
Georgiana sighed, resolutely turning her full attention to her aunt. “Yes. Perfectly.”
Her false smile did not deceive her aunt, however, who quickly perceived the problem. “Do not pay them any mind. Part of their whispering is no doubt simply because no one has been expecting you to attend the season, and they are surprised.”
“Surprised people can still overcome their surprise enough to greet one.”
“And shrinking back as you are is not helping matters,” Adelaide firmly told her, then seemed to sense how her words may have sounded. “I don’t mean to be harsh, dear, but you must try to put on an air of confidence, even if you don’t feel so. Confidence gives the impression there is nothing to gossip about. Fear implies there is something you are afraid others will find out.”
“And you recommend I do that?” Georgiana asked. She tried to stand taller and found herself wishing it were Ambrose by her side instead of her aunt. Though Adelaide was kind, she was also four inches shorter than Georgiana, which gave Georgiana nothing to hide behind.
“Think on anything but what you assume people are gossiping about. Preferably, something pleasant. You may find your love of horses proves useful at such times.” The last few words were spoken by Adelaide with a faint smile, which Georgiana found she was almost able to return.
“Very well, then. I will try to think more about horses,” she replied almost tartly, her tone vaguely implying she would do much more than her aunt had suggested.
Adelaide sighed in fond exasperation as they exited the modiste’s. “If you must … in order to keep that smile on your face, then I have no objections.”
The rest of the morning was every bit as busy. The newly completed dresses needed to be put away, calling cards had to be given out and received, and Aunt Adelaide was planning a garden tea party to rival all others and desired Georgiana’s opinions on the arrangements.
“Tell me, dear, do you think the tables should be arranged like this? Or, like this?”
“Honestly, Aunt, does it make a difference in this case?”
“Of course, it does! I am well-known for my garden parties, and I must prove mine are still among the best,