‘Slipping into Edward’s bedroom, of course. Now he’s proposed, he probably thinks he can get into your knickers.’
Georgia felt herself blush.
‘You’ve done it already, haven’t you!’ gasped her cousin.
‘Clarissa. It was beautiful, incredible. I never thought my body could feel like that.’
‘You did it here? Tonight?’
‘In a tiny bedroom up in the eaves. I felt as if I had gone to heaven.’
‘Will you get off cloud nine and come back down to earth,’ Clarissa said sternly. ‘Did you use a condom?’
Georgia shook her head.
‘Well, you’d better hope to hell there’s no patter of tiny feet coming along in nine months.’
‘Wouldn’t that be good?’
‘Are you completely naïve?’ snapped Clarissa. ‘Do you really think Lady Carlyle is going to let her son and heir marry any woman – and I would even include Princess Margaret in this – who is with child before the wedding? These people will do anything to avoid scandal, Georgie, anything.’
‘How do you know if you’re pregnant?’ asked Georgia after a moment.
‘You won’t know now, that’s for sure. Perhaps you’ll be lucky, and in the meantime I suggest you keep your knickers on.’
The girls stood in silence for a minute.
‘I should get back to the party,’ said Georgia finally. ‘Are you coming, or are you staying here for your dip?’
‘It looks pretty inviting, doesn’t it?’ said Clarissa as the water shimmered in front of them.
‘I dare you,’ grinned Georgia, the tension of their earlier conversation dispersing.
‘Do you think there are towels in the hut?’ asked Clarissa, pointing at a pale green summer house.
‘I don’t think the Carlyles want for anything,’ smiled Georgia as her cousin slipped off her dress and dived into the pool with a clean splash.
She came up for air and wiped her hair back off her face.
‘Go on then,’ she said, waving her hand at Georgia. ‘What are you still here for? Get back to the party!’
Georgia was still smiling as she walked across the quiet lawns. The party hadn’t sprawled out this far and the music and laughter were still a quiet hum in the background. She considered what Clarissa had said and knew that she had a point. Rich people didn’t get that way by accident; they g
ot there because they were ambitious. Because they always wanted more. And now that the Carlyles had a son of marrying age, it was a chance for the family to become more, to merge with another great family perhaps or to gain a proper royal title. Georgia knew she didn’t add anything to the pot, except perhaps the prospect of children.
She touched her stomach and hoped she wasn’t pregnant. It felt selfish to even think it, but she wanted at least five years of married life with Edward before they settled down to having a family. She wasn’t even twenty, for goodness’ sake – there were so many things she wanted to do as a woman before she became a mother.
Glancing at her watch, she was amazed that it was past midnight and the party was slowly beginning to wind down. There were still at least two hundred people here, but the dancing in front of the band had definitely thinned.
Georgia found Uncle Peter leaning against a wall in the ballroom, his head nodding down to his chest. Great, she thought. Just when I’m trying to keep the family out of trouble, my uncle chooses this night to go on a bender.
‘Uncle Peter?’ she said gently, and he jerked awake. ‘Wurr? Whassup?’ he slurred.
‘It’s Georgia.’
‘I can see that, old thing. I might be old, but I’m not senile just yet.’
‘I was just wondering if you’d like to have a seat for a moment?’