Page 24 of The Wallflower’s Great Escape (The Wallflowers’ Revolt #1)

G eorgie stared at herself in the long gilt-edged mirror and barely recognized the woman reflected back.

Madame Duval, a whirlwind of French-accented flattery and swishing silk skirts, fussed with the final fastening on the bodice and stepped back with a satisfied nod.

“There,” she announced triumphantly. “You see? Magnifique . A true lady of the ton . You are a countess now, no?”

Georgie blinked at the vision before her, the shimmering pale blue gown, cut to perfection, the delicate lace at her bodice, the way the fabric caught the light and made her eyes look…almost luminous.

She swallowed hard.

It was…beautiful.

Far more beautiful than anything she’d ever worn in her life. Far more beautiful than she deserved, she thought grimly. No doubt Jason was only dressing her out of obligation as well. How would it look if he allowed his new wife to go about in the old clothes her family had dressed her in?

“Now,” Madame Duval continued briskly, “zee evening gowns will arrive later zis week, and the walking dresses zee week after. But you must tell me if you have preferences. Embroidery? Beading? Colors? You have an excellent figure. We must show it off.”

Georgie flushed at that and murmured something noncommittal, but Madame seemed to take it as agreement and launched into a torrent of instructions to her assistants.

Once the bustle of measuring, pinning, and adjusting finally subsided, Georgie found herself once again alone in the drawing room, the soft sheen of the new gown still clinging to her skin like a promise.

She sat down on the edge of the settee, her fingers smoothing over the fabric almost absently.

She hated to admit it—but it had been kind of Jason to arrange this.

Generous even.

It was unkind of her to believe he had only done it out of obligation. After all, she’d already been dreading facing the ton again with nothing but her tired, outdated gowns…and the little matter of her scandal .

And Jason had thought of it without her even asking.

Her throat tightened at the thought.

Perhaps he was not quite the arrogant, interfering brute Bea claimed him to be.

Perhaps…

A faint rustle drew her gaze toward the door. A footman entered, carrying a small silver tray. “Forgive me, my lady,” he said, bowing. “This afternoon’s paper.”

She waved a distracted hand, still lost in thought, and he placed the folded newspaper on the table before retreating.

It was only after a long moment that she reached for it, curiosity tugging at her. No doubt there was a story about her wedding in there. She had to learn what the gossips were saying sooner or later.

Her eyes drifted lazily over the headlines, the usual prattle about Parliament, the latest military victories, an announcement of some duchess’s ball.

But then her gaze froze on a smaller column halfway down the page.

An Unexpected Union: Lord Pembroke’s Hasty Nuptials.

Her stomach dropped. There it was.

She scanned the text, her cheeks growing hotter with every line.

Last evening, in a quiet and private ceremony, Lord Pembroke—long regarded as one of London’s most eligible bachelors—wed Lady Georgiana Chadwick in what can only be described as a sudden and unexpected match.

Particularly because the bride had been planning to marry Lord Henderville that same morning.

This author has it on good authority that Lord Pembroke is said to have acted with admirable haste to rescue the lady from further scandal after she attempted to run off from her own wedding.

Lord Pembroke is known to be a close friend of Lady Georgiana’s brother and one wonders if the marriage was completed in haste in order to save the young woman from her own recklessness.

No doubt whispers shall continue to abound as to the true circumstances of this precipitous marriage…

Georgiana felt the blood drain from her face.

Rescue her from further scandal? Save the young woman from her own recklessness?

It was the worst possible interpretation of what had happened. Jason had been painted as a martyr doing a favor for a friend, while Georgiana was made to look like a fool who would marry any man who’d have her.

And what possible “good authority” could have provided such rubbish to the newspaper? Surely, her family wouldn’t have provided such damning material? They didn’t wish to look foolish either. It had to have been Lord Henderville.

She quickly re-read the article and winced. Ugh. It sounded worse the second time. The whole thing made it sound as though she were some helpless waif plucked from ruin, grateful to be saved by her magnanimous new husband, who was simply doing her family a favor.

Georgie dropped the paper back onto the desk and her fingers curled into the fabric of her gown, the words blurring before her eyes.

So this was how Society would see her.

Pathetic. Desperate. A charity case.

She lifted her chin sharply, her chest tight.

Well. So be it. If they thought she would hide in shame from them, they would be in for a surprise.

She blew out her breath and straightened her shoulders. She would not be pitied. Not by Society. Not by Jason.

And most certainly not by herself.