Oscar and Tony stared at Ralph for a moment, apparently stunned into silence by his recitation of the obvious.
George sighed, and not for the first time since entering her library. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. At first sight of Oscar’s carriage she should’ve tucked her tail between her legs and made a run for the hills. They might not have found her for days; weeks, if she’d been lucky. She could’ve slept under the stars and lived on wild strawberries and dew—never mind that strawberries didn’t fruit in September. Instead, she’d meekly dressed in her most demure gown and presented herself to her three younger brothers.
Who were all now glaring at her. “Actually, I believe it was a mutual seduction, if that’s important.”
Ralph looked puzzled, Tony groaned, and Oscar laughed, nearly choking on a mouthful of his bun.
“No, that’s not important,” Tony said. “What is important—”
“Is that you break it off at once.” Oscar finished for him. He started to shake a finger at George and realized he still held the bun. He looked around for a plate and set his bun down. “Now, after you have married a suitable gentleman, then you may take up with whoever—”
“I think not!” Ralph jumped to his feet, an effective move, since he was the tallest. “Georgina isn’t like the macaronis and libertines and whores you hang about with. She’s—”
“I have never, ever, in my entire life, consorted with macaronis.” Oscar arched an awful eyebrow at his younger brother.
“Gentlemen, please,” Tony said. “Save your teasing for later. George, what do you plan to do with your land steward? Do you want to marry him?”
“I say!”
“But, Tony!” Both Oscar and Ralph started.
Tony held up a hand, silencing them. “George?”
George blinked. What did she want from Harry? To be close to him, she knew, but beyond that, matters became complicated. Why, oh why, couldn’t she muddle along as she always had?
“Because,” Tony said, “much as I hate to admit it, Oscar and Ralph are right. You must either break it off or marry the fellow. You aren’t the type of lady to engage in this kind of behavior.”
Oh, Lord. George’s chest felt suddenly tight, as if someone had crept up behind her and yanked her corset strings taut. She always felt this sensation at the thought of marriage. What could she say? “Well…”
“He kills sheep. Violet says so in her letter.” Ralph crossed his arms. “Georgina cannot marry a madman.”
No wonder Violet was hiding. She must’ve sent letters to all three of their brothers. George narrowed her eyes. Her sister was probably in the hills at this very moment, trying to figure out exactly how one went about drinking dew.
“You’ve been reading my mail again.” Oscar selected a tart from the tray, apparently having forgotten the bun, and shook it at Ralph. “That letter was to me. Yours said nothing about sheep.”
Ralph opened his mouth and closed it a few times, like a mule unsure of the bit between its teeth. “How would you know that if you hadn’t been reading my letters?”
Oscar smirked in a loathsome way. One day someone was going to hit him. “I’m older than you. It’s my duty to keep tabs on my impressionable young brother.”
Crash!
Everyone jerked around to the fireplace, where shards of glass lay on the hearth.
Tony leaned on the mantel and frowned sternly back. “I hope you didn’t care for that crystal vase, George?”
“Uh, no, not at—”
“Good,” Tony clipped. “Now, then. Edifying as this display of brotherly love is, I think we’ve wandered from the main point.” He held up a hand and ticked off his large-knuckled fingers. “One, do you think Harry Pye is a madman going about the countryside killing Granville’s sheep?”
“No.” That might be the only thing she was sure of.
“Fine. Ah. Ah.” Tony shook his head at Ralph, who’d begun to protest. “Do you both trust George’s judgment?”
“Of course,” Ralph said.
“Implicitly,” Oscar replied.
Tony nodded, then turned back to her. “Two, do you want to marry Harry Pye?”
“But, Tony, a land steward!” Oscar burst out. “You know he’s only in it for…” He stopped and looked flustered. “Sorry, Georgie.”
George tilted her chin away. She felt as if something fluttered in her throat, impeding the air.
Only Tony met the objection head-on. “Do you think he wants your money, George?”
“No.” Beastly, beastly brothers.
He raised his eyebrows and stared pointedly at Oscar.
Oscar threw up his arms and pushed his open palms at Tony. “Fine!” Oscar went to brood by the window, taking his plate of food with him.
“Do you want to marry him?” Tony persisted.
“I don’t know!” She couldn’t breathe. When had it come to marriage? Marriage was like a fluffy coverlet that enveloped its occupants closer and closer, the air growing thin and stale, until they stifled to death and didn’t even realize they were already dead.
Tony closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. “I know you’ve avoided marriage thus far, and I can understand. We all can.”
At the window, Oscar shrugged one shoulder.
Ralph looked at his feet.
Tony just stared at her. “If you’ve given yourself to this man, don’t you think the choice has already been made?”
“Maybe.” George got to her feet. “Maybe not. But in either case, I won’t be pushed. Give me some time to think.”
Oscar looked up from the window and exchanged glances with Tony.
“We’ll give you time,” Tony said, and the sympathy in his eyes made her want to cry.
George bit her lip and turned to a nearby wall of books. She trailed a fingertip over the spines. Behind her she heard Ralph say, “Up for a bit of a ride, Oscar?”
“What?” Oscar sounded irritable—and like his mouth was full again. “Are you mad? It’s begun to rain.”
A sigh. “Come with me, anyway.”
“Why? Oh. Ooh. Yes, of course.” Her two younger brothers quietly exited the room.
George almost smiled. Oscar had always been the least perceptive of her siblings. She turned to look behind her. Tony was frowning into the fire. She winced. Oh, damn, she’d forgotten to tell him yesterday.