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drawing in a much-needed breath. ‘That’s good. And so, here you are.’

      ‘Yes. Here I am,’ said Edmund. ‘With an invitation to take the young ladies on an outing that they should find both educational and improving.’

      Since Edmund was standing looking down at Stepmama and Sukey was sitting on her favourite sofa which put her out of his eye line, he didn’t see the look of horror that flashed across her face at the prospect of spending the afternoon being educated and improved.

      ‘The young ladies,’ said Stepmama with barely concealed relief, at the same time as Sukey made a valiant effort to school her features into an expression of dutiful gratitude. ‘How very kind of you to think of them. I am sure they are most grateful to be offered such a treat,’ said Stepmama, ruthlessly ignoring Sukey’s initial reaction. ‘We have been so dull here today.’

      ‘All your beaus have deserted you? I cannot believe it,’ he said gravely.

      ‘I dare say the rain is keeping them at home,’ said Georgiana.

      ‘I shouldn’t be a bit surprised,’ he said, turning to her. ‘However, a little bit of weather has never prevented me from doing exactly as I please. Nor will I permit it to spoil your own enjoyment of the outing. Your charges will both be completely protected from the elements, I do assure you,’ he said, returning his attention to Stepmama.

      ‘Oh, do I take it to mean you mean to convey them to the museum in your carriage?’

      Sukey brightened up at once. The prospect of being driven through the streets in a carriage with a crest on the door clearly more than made up for the fact that the destination was to be somewhere she would rather not go.

      ‘Not my own carriage, no,’ said Edmund, causing Sukey’s face to fall. ‘I do not habitually use a carriage when in Town. I prefer to walk wherever I am going, or hire a hack should the weather be inclement.

      ‘However, I have procured Lady Ashenden’s barouche, for the occasion.’

      ‘Lady Ashenden’s barouche,’ repeated Stepmama, one hand rising to her neck, even as Sukey made a moue of frustration.

      ‘Yes. It is, even now, waiting at the foot of your front steps,’ said Edmund with a slight emphasis on the word waiting.

      Which was enough of a hint to spur Stepmama into action.

      ‘Yes, run along upstairs, girls, and get your coats and bonnets on, do,’ she said, making a shooing motion with her hands. ‘His lordship does not like to be kept waiting.’

      ‘Are you not coming with us, Mama?’

      ‘No, my dear,’ she answered Sukey with a complaisant smile. ‘I am sure I have no need to chaperon you when you will be escorted by none other than his lordship.’ She shot him a sickly smile. ‘And each other,’ she added, sternly. Although she had her sights set on a title for Sukey, she had no wish for her daughter to go off alone with anyone, no matter how high ranking they might be, and acquire a reputation for being fast. It would be fatal to her chances of marrying well.

      Georgiana and Sukey rose to their feet, dropped dutiful curtsies and made their way to the door at a decorous pace to prove they were young ladies of good breeding, rather than obeying the order literally.

      Edmund bowed, then went to take a seat on a chair opposite Stepmama.

      ‘While we are alone,’ he said, as the girls were shutting the door gently behind them, ‘I feel I ought to drop a word of warning in your ear. Concerning Lord Freckleton.’

      Sukey and Georgiana froze.

      And then pressed their ears to the door.

      ‘What about him?’ came the slightly muffled response.

      ‘It is merely that I do not think you should place too much significance in any attentions he may pay either of your charges.’

      ‘Oh?’ In spite of the door, Georgiana could clearly hear the affront in Stepmama’s reply.

      ‘It is not the fault of your girls,’ put in Edmund soothingly. ‘The fault is entirely his.’

      ‘What do you mean by that?’

      ‘Just that he is not the type to ever, willingly, make an offer of marriage to any female. His preferences lie in another direction entirely.’

      ‘Really?’

      At the very same moment Stepmama let out the shocked response, Sukey clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. And then she began to back away, towards the stairs that led up to their bedrooms, her eyes alight with mirth.

      ‘What is so funny?’ Mystified, Georgiana followed Sukey up the stairs. But Sukey only shook her head, refusing to say a word until they’d reached their dressing room and closed the door behind them.

      ‘Well! Can you believe it?’

      ‘Believe what?’

      ‘That Lord Freckleton isn’t the marrying kind,’ said Sukey, twirling Georgiana round so that she could unhook her gown. ‘Thank goodness Lord Ashenden dropped Mama a hint about his preferences,’ she said, presenting her own back to Georgiana so she could return the favour. ‘At least that saves me the exertion of attempting to fix his interest. I was wondering why I wasn’t getting anywhere,’ she said, then succumbed to a full fit of the giggles.

      More confused than ever, Georgiana plucked her highly impractical pale pink cambric carriage dress from the peg on which it hung and stepped into it, while Sukey did the same with hers.

      ‘When you say not the marrying kind, Sukey, what do you mean, exactly? Is there some special significance to that phrase?’

      ‘You goose, Georgie,’ said Sukey, taking a moment to swat her on the shoulder in between hooking up the back of the dress she’d never expected to actually get an airing. ‘How can you not know? It means...’ she leaned in close and whispered, though there was nobody in the room but the two of them ‘...that he prefers men. To women. In a romantic sense,’ she finished, when Georgie turned to gaze at her, perplexed.

      ‘What?’ Oh, heavens. No wonder Edmund had been so angry when she’d used that phrase when speaking to him about marriage.

      She fumbled her arms into the loose sleeves of the pelisse which went with her carriage dress in a stew of guilt.

      ‘I have sometimes wondered if your Lord Ashenden isn’t one of those,’ said Sukey, making her start. It was as if she’d somehow followed her train of thought.

      ‘Of course he isn’t!’

      ‘Oh, I know that really,’ said Sukey with a sympathetic smile. ‘You have no need to defend his manly honour. His mistresses do that for him,’ she said, reaching for her bonnet.

      ‘Well, then,’ grumbled Georgie, jamming her own bonnet down over her curls.

      ‘Yes, but honestly, if he doesn’t want people to think he’s that kind of man,’ said Sukey as she adjusted the set of her bonnet with the help of the mirror, ‘he really ought not to go driving about Town in a vehicle more suited to the needs of an elderly lady.’

      ‘Ed—I mean, Lord Ashenden, does not care what people think of him,’ she retorted, yanking her ribbons into some kind of bow.

      ‘Obviously,’ said Sukey and went off into another fit of giggles. ‘Oh, heavens, Georgie, you are going to have to...to slap me or something, else I shall be giggling all the way to the museum.’

      ‘I have no need to do anything so vile. You only need to consider what your mama would say if she catches you giggling in Lord Ashenden’s presence.’

      ‘Lord, yes, she would demand an explanation for my extraordinary conduct, then I would find myself confessing that we were eavesdropping.’

      And so it was that Edmund conducted two very sober young ladies to his mother’s

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