Read Online One Night with a Rake (Regency Rakes) by Connie Mason, Mia Marlowe - Free Book Online Page B

unladylike things as she went. In Georgette’s imagination the swan had become a goose, squawking across the farmyard in an explosion of feathers.
    “A fortnight!” Lady Yorkingham paced in a tight circle, waiting for the steward to appear. “The man has the audacity to demand a ball fit for royalty in only two weeks. Why, that’s not even enough time for new gowns. Let alone all the other myriad details to which I’ll have to attend. Honestly, does His Highness think all one needs to do is speak and the event will come to pass?”
    “It’s called ruling by fiat, and yes,” Georgette said, “royalty does tend to think that’s how the world works.”
    “Don’t be cheeky, Georgie,” her mother scolded. “Ah, Humphrey, there you are. We have an emergency. Bring my Domesday Book.”
    That was her mother’s name for her collection of approved caterers, entertainers, and purveyors of assorted fripperies necessary for a grand fete. A vendor had to be a cut above his fellows in order to be accorded the honor of an entry in the Domesday Book.
    “Call Cook, Mr. Rigsby, and Mrs. Thistle for a meeting here in”—Lady Yorkingham checked her pendant watch—“a quarter hour.”
    Oh, dear. The cook, the butler, and the housekeeper all in one room .
    “Don’t you know they’re feuding a bit at present?” Georgette said. Mercy was a fount of information when it came to below-stairs gossip. “It seems Mr. Rigsby claimed that Mrs. Thistle moved the bust of Purcell from the music room, and Cook took her part when she said she didn’t. Then Mrs. Thistle told Cook she could hold her own against the likes of Mr. Rigsby, thank you very much, and the two women haven’t spoken a civil word since.”
    “Not now, Georgette, I’m trying to think.” Her mother gave her a swift head-to-toe perusal. “No matter what, you simply must have a new gown. Something in red, I think. Yes, that’s it. We’ll do a St. Valentine’s theme. Thank heavens, the feast day falls close to the date His Highness has decreed.”
    “Indeed,” Georgette said wryly. “Just imagine if the ball had fallen on the Feast of St. Sebastian. Our footmen should have been obliged to carry bloody spears instead of little gilt bows and arrows.”
    Her mother frowned at her. “Honestly, Georgette, I don’t know where you come up with these odd ideas. Well, at least you didn’t say anything like that while his lordship was here. Now, get you gone and quickly. Oh, no, wait.” She called her back with a frantic gesture. “I shall need the barouche this afternoon. There are ever so many details to attend. Oh, I know.” She clapped her hands together in relief that one thing, at least, seemed to be going right with her newest, most urgent project. “Find Lord Nathaniel.”
    “Why?”
    “Your father told me he’ll be staying with us for a bit and he may as well make himself useful. Have Nathaniel escort you to the modiste by hackney. Yes, it’ll do the lad good to have something constructive to do.”
    Her mother nodded as she tapped her temple, her mind obviously scurrying on to the next item on her rapidly composed mental inventory.
    “Tell Madam Reynard that she shall have two, no, three times her usual fee if she turns out your new gown in time. Now off you go!”
    Her mother waved her away and flew to the escritoire to record the burgeoning list of items to be accomplished before the fateful ball. “Two weeks,” she muttered.
    Two weeks. The finality of it draped over Georgette like a shroud. In only a fortnight, she might be betrothed to a member of the royal family, her future plotted out for her without room for a single turn to the left or the right.
    Her father and mother had discussed the possibility of the match with her the day after Princess Charlotte died last November. The Duke of Cambridge’s operatives had moved swiftly when they realized a crown was at stake in the “Hymen Race Terrific.” Georgette was quickly identified as one