able to beg his pardon until the ball; it seemed an eternity to wait.
“Don’t look so downcast, Mira. I have invited George to dinner. He will be escorting us to the ball as your father has business to attend to this evening.”
There was no reply to this piece of news Mira could speak aloud as they had reached the bottom of the stairs in full view of her family, and she wished not to invite ridicule from her brothers. However, her dismay was tangible. An entire day seated by George in the carriage, his well-oiled hair accosting her view whenever she looked up and his bony fingers spread across his knees whenever she looked down, was enough punishment for her unkindness to Harry at breakfast. Must she spend the evening with him as well? Could she possibly endure marriage to him?
There came a rap at the door, and Mira’s heart took up a startling tattoo in her breast. Perhaps Harry had come after all. Surely he would assume he was always welcome just as he used to. She let go of her mother’s hand and waited in the hall until their guest entered, every fiber of her being alive with anticipation. It was with a decided decline of her spirits that she saw it was only George after all.
“Miss Crenshaw,” he said with a nod of his head, as if she were a mere acquaintance rather than the woman he had chosen to make his wife.
“George, thank you for coming,” Mira said with a smile even as her heart sank. “Mama says you are to be our escort to the ball this evening as Papa cannot attend.”
“Horses couldn’t drag me from your side,” George replied.
“None but Witch’s Brew,” Mira retorted with a flash of annoyance. Had he not said as much at breakfast that very day?
George frowned and took her by the elbow to force her to his side. “A temper such as that is not becoming, Mira. I hope never to see such a lapse again,” he hissed in her ear as he led her into the dining room and seated her at her father’s left. George took his seat on her father’s right, as was his due, a circumstance that left Mira nowhere to look except straight at his needled nose during the course of the meal. Instead, she fumed into her plate and consoled herself with thoughts of her father’s rage when he learned of George’s behavior. However, there would not be the time to tell him of it until tomorrow. She prayed it would be soon enough to put paid to George’s suit for her hand in marriage, or delay it at the very least.
Adrian and Stephen took up seats on either side of the table, and Mama her usual seat at the end. “George,” she said, “I am given to understand that you have made a substantial contribution to one of the Queen’s charities. How exemplary of you!”
“Those in my position must do what one can,” he replied. He picked up his spoon and dipped it into his soup bowl. “While we are on that note, I trust that before too long, dear Cousin, you will become accustomed to giving me my due, even in such familial surroundings.”
Mira felt as if her eyes flew of their own accord to note her mother’s reaction. Her face looked as if it had crumpled, and her ears were as rosy as her cheeks. “I beg pardon, Your Grace,” she said. “It’s only that I have known you since you were an infant. I hadn’t thought how you are addressed would be of any consequence, here, amongst ourselves. However, I shall do as you wish, of course.”
A moment of pregnant silence ensued, followed by the crash of Adrian’s fist to the table. “That is coming it a bit strong, George!” he exclaimed. “Are Stephen and I to tug at our forelocks as well?”
“But of course not,” George asserted. “Though of a decidedly lower social circle, you are Crenshaws, as is my cousin Anthony. That applies to you as well, Mira,” he said with a nod of his head in her direction.
“Pray forgive me should I not thank you for the honor of calling you by your given name,” Mira snapped. “Papa, I wonder that you should have naught
“Don’t look so downcast, Mira. I have invited George to dinner. He will be escorting us to the ball as your father has business to attend to this evening.”
There was no reply to this piece of news Mira could speak aloud as they had reached the bottom of the stairs in full view of her family, and she wished not to invite ridicule from her brothers. However, her dismay was tangible. An entire day seated by George in the carriage, his well-oiled hair accosting her view whenever she looked up and his bony fingers spread across his knees whenever she looked down, was enough punishment for her unkindness to Harry at breakfast. Must she spend the evening with him as well? Could she possibly endure marriage to him?
There came a rap at the door, and Mira’s heart took up a startling tattoo in her breast. Perhaps Harry had come after all. Surely he would assume he was always welcome just as he used to. She let go of her mother’s hand and waited in the hall until their guest entered, every fiber of her being alive with anticipation. It was with a decided decline of her spirits that she saw it was only George after all.
“Miss Crenshaw,” he said with a nod of his head, as if she were a mere acquaintance rather than the woman he had chosen to make his wife.
“George, thank you for coming,” Mira said with a smile even as her heart sank. “Mama says you are to be our escort to the ball this evening as Papa cannot attend.”
“Horses couldn’t drag me from your side,” George replied.
“None but Witch’s Brew,” Mira retorted with a flash of annoyance. Had he not said as much at breakfast that very day?
George frowned and took her by the elbow to force her to his side. “A temper such as that is not becoming, Mira. I hope never to see such a lapse again,” he hissed in her ear as he led her into the dining room and seated her at her father’s left. George took his seat on her father’s right, as was his due, a circumstance that left Mira nowhere to look except straight at his needled nose during the course of the meal. Instead, she fumed into her plate and consoled herself with thoughts of her father’s rage when he learned of George’s behavior. However, there would not be the time to tell him of it until tomorrow. She prayed it would be soon enough to put paid to George’s suit for her hand in marriage, or delay it at the very least.
Adrian and Stephen took up seats on either side of the table, and Mama her usual seat at the end. “George,” she said, “I am given to understand that you have made a substantial contribution to one of the Queen’s charities. How exemplary of you!”
“Those in my position must do what one can,” he replied. He picked up his spoon and dipped it into his soup bowl. “While we are on that note, I trust that before too long, dear Cousin, you will become accustomed to giving me my due, even in such familial surroundings.”
Mira felt as if her eyes flew of their own accord to note her mother’s reaction. Her face looked as if it had crumpled, and her ears were as rosy as her cheeks. “I beg pardon, Your Grace,” she said. “It’s only that I have known you since you were an infant. I hadn’t thought how you are addressed would be of any consequence, here, amongst ourselves. However, I shall do as you wish, of course.”
A moment of pregnant silence ensued, followed by the crash of Adrian’s fist to the table. “That is coming it a bit strong, George!” he exclaimed. “Are Stephen and I to tug at our forelocks as well?”
“But of course not,” George asserted. “Though of a decidedly lower social circle, you are Crenshaws, as is my cousin Anthony. That applies to you as well, Mira,” he said with a nod of his head in her direction.
“Pray forgive me should I not thank you for the honor of calling you by your given name,” Mira snapped. “Papa, I wonder that you should have naught
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