Compromised for Christmas (The Jennings Family #1)

42. Georgiana

42

Georgiana

“G oodness, Georgiana, your eyes are all swollen.” Georgiana’s mother grimaced, the creases exaggerated on her heavily powered face. “And they’re red . You look as though you haven’t slept in days.” Georgiana’s mother snapped her fingers at the maid who had just delivered their tea service, the inordinate number of gold embellishments on her plum gown jangling with the movement. “Get a cold compress for your mistress with haste.”

Georgiana let out a slow breath, willing herself calm. She focused on the faded, pink, floral pattern of the paper-hangings in the drawing room in which they sat. God, they were bloody ugly. No doubt they were original to the home. While her husband had given no thought to redecorating, she most definitely had plans for it.

She glanced over at her maid and whispered, “Thank you, Jane. That would be much appreciated.” Even though her words said thank you, it was an apology more than anything. Because in her mother’s quest to appear as aristocratic as possible, she was incessantly rude to servants.

Jane smiled, and Georgiana didn’t fail to notice the sympathy in the curve of the young woman’s lips. Whether it was because her maid knew Georgiana had been up all night a sobbing mess or because of Georgiana’s intolerable mother, she didn’t know.

She turned to her mother, who sat next to her on the rose-colored settee in the very pink, very floral drawing room. “I am just a trifle tired, Mother. We had Lady Rutledge’s supper party last night. Perhaps I had overindulged in wine.” Or perhaps the amount of crying she had done had left her swollen, red, and tear streaked.

But she had her little watering pot wallowing session. Now she was ready to speak to her husband. To figure out what this meant for them, for the kind of future they would have. Her heart sank like a poorly thrown skipping stone. Thunk . Because she had woken up to find her husband gone.

God, she hoped he hadn’t visited his mistress last night. Had she inadvertently pushed him to the woman? She had quite clearly given him the cold shoulder. Had told him she hadn’t wanted him to visit her that night. So, had he visited a different woman instead? A warmer, more willing woman. Her heart cracked.

Her mother set down her cup of tea, her lips pursed. “Yes, well, you must take care, Georgiana. It is of utmost import you appeal to your husband. How do you expect to produce the next heir to the earldom if your husband isn’t interested in what you have to offer? ”

Georgiana decided she’d much rather eat another spiced biscuit in silence than reply to that .

“Ignore your mother, Georgiana,” her father said from where he sat across from them in an armchair upholstered in yet another shade of pink. He lounged, one leg crossed, foot resting on his knee. The picture of nonchalance.

He let out a low chuckle. Because what her mother had just said—which was slightly mortifying having repeatedly brought up in front of one’s father—was apparently so funny. But that was his habitual demeanor—laugh amiably and smile.

“She is just overeager to have an earl as a grandson. I’ve tried to explain to her it is very unlikely, as eventually Lord Bentley will settle down. But you know how your mother loves to dream.”

Georgiana tried for a smile, but when that seemed a lost cause, she went for another biscuit.

Her mother swatted at her arm. “Enough biscuits, Georgiana. Your husband won’t look twice at you if you continue indulging so excessively in sweets. You have never been the slimmest to begin with.”

Georgiana’s mouth pinched, but she traded her biscuit for a cup of tea. Do not dump your scalding hot tea on the infuriating woman. You are not five. But sometimes she wished she could act like she was.

“Despite that fact…” her father continued, ignoring her mother’s little outburst. “You have done very well for yourself, Georgiana.”

She looked up from her tea, eyebrows inching up, and met her father’s identical green gaze. He stared at her as if he really saw her, for perhaps the first time in her life.

“Mr. Jennings may not be titled. But it is no secret the Jennings are highly regarded in society. I am proud of you.”

Her mouth worked. He was…proud of her? She didn’t think her father had ever been proud of her before. But somehow, in this weird twist of fate where she accidentally ended up married to a stranger, she had made him proud. Her heart floated back up in her chest, humming happily.

And she hated that fact.

Because it shouldn’t make her happy that this man was proud of her. She didn’t need his validation to know her worth. Perhaps when she was younger, she would have given anything to hear those words. But she had learned long ago not to hope for them. And now? She hated that she still wanted them. That she was still that lonely girl grasping for attention.

“Th-thank you, Father.”

She downed the rest of her tea, hoping the steaming liquid would help clear the thickness building in her throat. Help clear the confusion caused by the little girl she used to be, dancing in joy, and the grown woman she had become, chastising herself for that very reaction. It was not as though Thomas Hartley had been a poor father, exactly. He never said anything cruel, never laid a hand on her. He just had never found any use for her at all. Which was its own kind of hurt. But apparently, she had finally done something to deserve his regard.

He smiled at her. But it was like every other smile he had ever given her. Skin-deep. Surface only. The warmth thrumming in her heart weakened.

“I have been in negotiations with the Earl about garnering his support of Hartley Textiles. Unfortunately, he was hard-pressed against agreeing to anything as part of the marriage contract—especially considering our hands were tied with you ruining yourself. I had hoped the joining of our families would go a long way in furthering negotiations.”

The thrumming stopped altogether. Snuffed out. Smothered. Dead.

“If you could do your part and convince your husband of the benefits of the earldom throwing its support behind us, perhaps his brother will see reason. Securing the Earl’s backing would greatly enhance our ability to attract more members of the ton to our textiles.”

And there it was. He wasn’t proud of her. The businessman in him saw a use for her. That was all.

“I don’t even know what to say,” she said tightly.

“Oh, do not worry about that.” Her father gave a careless wave. “We can discuss exactly the points you should bring up with your husband. I will make sure you are thoroughly prepared.”

That had not been what she meant by her statement at all. She didn’t know what to say to his bloody outrageous request.

“And it’s not as though what you say will matter all that much,” her mother added flippantly. “The best way to persuade him will to be to put your charm to good use. I am sure with your blunderbus of a husband, it will be no task at all.”

Georgiana blinked. It was all she could ever do with this woman. Because what in the bloody hell? Not only had her mother just told her to seduce her husband for their family’s gain, but the woman also just insulted Georgiana’s husband in his very own home. The audacity. The nerve .

Fury built inside her, a keg filling with gunpowder. The story Felicity had shared of Fitz’s past came flying to the surface. A match dropped on her fury. Her husband didn’t deserve such disrespect. How dare them! He was not a blunderbus. He was nervous and struggled a bit socially, but he was a good man.

Lord, she had to hope he was a good man. That this current muddle was just a temporary setback, one with an explanation.

But the thing was, Georgiana knew beyond all doubt that even if things turned out to be dire, she’d champion her husband, regardless.

She loved him too much not to.