“There’s something else, isn’t there?” she whispered. Whatever it was, it had to be bad.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said in a bleak voice. “However much I might wish for things to be different, they can’t be.”
“But—”
“You just have to accept it,” he snapped. “There can be nothing between us. Ever.”
She stared at him, stunned and hurt that he would speak to her in such a tone. No one in her entire life had ever spoken to her like that.
“Well, you don’t have to be insulting,” she snapped back. “I can take the hint.”
“Apparently not,” he growled.
Georgie turned on her heel and stalked for the door. A very large part of her hoped he’d come after her, telling her it had all been a horrible mistake. But he didn’t, so she kept on walking, determined to ignore the fact that she’d left her heart in a little, crumpled heap at his feet.
She stormed right past Florian and up the stairs to her room. She yanked on her pelisse, her hat, and her gloves, and then she marched right back down to the hall.
Fergus stood waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “Georgie, wait,” he said. “Let me explain.”
She sailed past him, too furious to utter a word, and continued on to the back of the house and out the door. She stomped through the garden, then crunched across the thin layer of snow on the lawn and down to the pond, where the tenants and their children had gathered for the skating. Eliza and Bertie were in the middle of it, handing out refreshments and helping the children put on their skates. Will and Evelyn were also helping out, as was Lady Reese.
“There you are, Sis,” Bertie said with a smile. He was crouched in front of the blacksmith’s youngest daughter, helping her tie on her blades. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”
“I’m here now.” She plunked down on a bench and picked up an extra pair of skates.
“Georgie, what are you doing?” Bertie asked.
She slowly looked up to meet his concerned gaze. “I’m going skating. Why?”
“It’s just that you haven’t been on the ice in years. You might be out of practice.”
She bent down to finish the task. “I’ll be fine.”
“Of course you will,” Bertie said in a hearty voice. “But I think I’ll just strap a pair on and—”
She stood up and fixed her brother with her most lethal glare.
“I’ll go with her,” Fergus said.
Georgie glanced over her shoulder, surprised to see him right behind her. “I’m quite capable on my own.”
“Still, I’d like to join you,” he said in a firm voice.
“And I wish you wouldn’t.”
“What’s going on here?” Bertie asked, looking suspicious.
“Absolutely nothing.” She’d said the same thing last night, when her brother saw them come out of the library. Apparently, it was as true now as it had been then.
Turning her back on the two men, she shuffled to the edge of the pond and stepped onto the ice. She wobbled for a moment but soon found her balance.
“Georgie let me—”
She skated away before Fergus could finish his sentence. Sailing across the ice, she took a few slow passes at the shallow end of the pond to regain her form. It had been years since she’d skated, but it felt so familiar. With each stroke her confidence grow. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her. Not Fergus, not her brother, not any blasted male, for that matter.
Georgie skated faster and faster, weaving in and out among the children, who shrieked and encouraged her with their laughter. Her circles grew wider and more extravagant, taking her farther away from the edge of the pond.
“Dammit, Georgie,” yelled Bertie. “Don’t go near the end of—”
Crack.
The ice began to collapse beneath her. The last thing she saw before the water claimed her was Fergus, streaking toward her with grim determination.
Chapter Seven
* * *
The doctor had been with Georgie for thirty long minutes, doing a thorough examination after her dunking in the frigid pond. Fergus had spent the whole time pacing the hall outside the room. He’d counted the floorboards three times and had memorized the patterns on the oriental carpet runner that stretched to the top of the stairs.
It was the longest half hour of his life.
While Georgie was, according to her, just fine, no one wanted to take any risks. The moment when her bonnet had disappeared into the dark, ice-encrusted water had been a nightmare come to life.
He heard a quick tread behind him and turned to see Bertie emerge from the top of the stairs. “Anything?” Bertie asked as he hurried to join him.
“He’s still with her. Christ, it’s taking forever.”
Bertie’s face was set in tight, worried lines. “I told Dr. Field to give her a complete check. We can’t take any chances with her lungs.”
Fergus leaned against the wall by the door. “I know. It’s just that seeing her go through the ice like that…”
Bertie looked like he might be sick. “Don’t remind me. God, if anything were to happen to her, I don’t know what I’d do.”
Fergus knew, though, that Georgie was stronger than they gave her credit for. It was time he started remembering that. It was time they all started remembering that.
“She’ll be fine,” he said in a firm tone. “We got her out right away, and she didn’t inhale any water. She was in the house two minutes later.”
Bertie forced a smile. “Thanks to you. You never hesitated.”
Fergus shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten a dunking in freezing water. He’d pulled more sheep out of icy Highland streams than he cared to count. “Don’t forget Lady Reese,” he said, trying to lighten things up. “She waded right in too.”
That had been a hell of a surprise. Fergus had almost dropped Georgie when he saw Lady Reese leap into the shallows to help. Though she’d been more of a hindrance than anything else, he gave her full marks for trying.
Bertie let out a reluctant laugh. “She’s intrepid, I’ll give you that. But she was waxing on rather dramatically about her delicate constitution once we got back to the house.”
Fergus snorted. “She’s as strong as an ox, that one is.”
Bertie’s smile faded as he studied Fergus with an intent expression. “Mr. Haddon, I must ask you something, and I hope you will answer me with full honesty.”
Fergus repressed a sigh. He’d been expecting a conversation like this sooner or later. “You have my word.”
“Is your—” Bertie broke off when the parlor door opened and Dr. Field emerged.
When Bertie and Fergus besieged him with questions, the doctor held up a hand. “Miss Gage is just fine. Her lungs are clear, and she shows no sign of taking a chill. Whoever pulled her out so quickly did a commendable job. I don’t think she’ll suffer any ill effects from the incident.”
Fergus let out a shaky breath. Bertie looked ready to collapse from relief.
“Thank God,” Bertie said. “May we see her now?”
“Of course, but I’ve administered a sleeping draught, so don’t keep her up too long. She’s had quite a lot of excitement for one day, and I want her to get her rest.”
“Yes, of course,” Bertie said. “I’ll see she remains in bed for the next few days.”
“That’s not necessary,” the doctor said. “She’ll be right as rain with a good night’s sleep. Now, I understand you have another patient for me?”
“Yes, Lady Reese,” Bertie said. “She took a bit of a dunking, so we thought you should check on her too, just in case.”
Bertie led the doctor down the hall to the guest apartments, firing questions about Georgie and her health. Fergus smiled, because he’d been much the same with his sister—over-protective to an absurd degree. Now he understood how crushing that sort of concern was, no matter how well intentioned.
He hesitated at the door, wanting to rush
in and sweep Georgie into his arms. But what right did he have after his stupid, cruel behavior in the library? She deserved everything that was good and wonderful, and Fergus wasn’t at all sure that he fit the bill.
But wasn’t that exactly what he’d done with his sister, Donella? Refused to let her make her own decisions? He rapped on the door.
“Come in,” called Georgie’s cheery voice.
He stuck his head in the room. “Am I interrupting?”
Sitting on a chaise by the fireplace, Georgie was garbed in a pretty blue dressing gown, with a white, fluffy lap blanket covering her legs. Her hair was in a simple braid down her back, and she wore a silly little lace cap that barely covered the top of her head. Her face lit up as soon as she saw him, and she threw off the blanket and stood. “Fergus, I’ve been waiting for you. I’m so glad you’re here.”
And that was all it took for his doubts and fears to dissolve like a Highland mist on a summer morn. He strode into the room and scooped her into his arms, then deposited her gently back on the chaise.
“Lass, the doctor said you should be resting,” he said. “You just sit back down and let everyone take care of you.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes shining with love. What a fool he was to think he could walk away from her, or refuse anything she asked of him.
“I’m fine. The doctor said so.” Georgie rolled her eyes. “That’s what I told everyone, of course. Not that anyone ever listens to me.”
“I do, and I will from now on.”
One of her hands fluttered up to her throat. “Do you promise?”
His own throat was so tight he could barely speak. “Yes.”
“Oh, Fergus,” she breathed.
Someone behind him cleared her voice. “Excuse me, Mr. Haddon. Would you like a cup of tea while we wait for my husband?”
Fergus could feel his cheeks going hot. He’d been so taken up with Georgie that he hadn’t noticed anyone else in the room.
Georgie smothered a giggle. Fergus turned and gave Eliza a sheepish smile. “Yes, Mrs. Gage. That would be most welcome.”
“I’ll get it,” another voice said.
Fergus winced and glanced over his shoulder to see Mrs. Clotworthy rising from a window seat in the alcove. There’d been quite the little audience for his emotional display.
Eliza smiled at him. “You needn’t be so formal, since it looks like we’re going to be on rather close terms in the future. Please call me Eliza.”
“Er, yes, of course.” He sounded like a dolt, but he hadn’t even proposed to Georgie yet—much less asked her brother for his permission. But it was rather nice to know he had at least one family member on his side. He suspected, however, that Bertie Gage might not be as easily convinced as his wife.
“Sit next to me, Fergus,” Georgie said, patting the cushion beside her.
He was just getting settled and about to accept a cup of tea when the door opened and Bertie strode into the room, followed by Will and Evelyn. Mrs. Clotworthy snatched back the cup and beat a hasty retreat.
What Fergus really needed at the moment was a shot of whiskey. And, by the looks of it, so did Bertie, who didn’t look happy to see him sitting next to his sister.
“Should she be having all these visitors?” Bertie asked his wife.
“And who invited Will and Evie to join us?” Eliza asked in a polite tone.
Bertie looked sheepish. “Oh, I suppose I did, but the point still remains that Georgie shouldn’t be overdoing it.”
“She is perfectly fine, and perfectly capable of deciding who can visit her,” Georgie said. “Bertie, stop making a fuss. Everything’s fine.”
“I know you’re fine, Sis,” Bertie said in a gruff voice. “And I’m more grateful than you can imagine. But you’re not to do something like that again. It would kill me if anything happened to you.”
Georgie took his offered hand and briefly pressed it to her cheek before letting it go. “Yes, I know, but you’re missing the point, dear.”
“Which is?” Bertie asked, sounding wary.
“That everything is fine. Fergus saved me, in case you failed to notice.”
“Because you didn’t panic,” Fergus said. “You didn’t thrash about, and you had the presence of mind to hold your breath when you went under.”
In fact, her head had popped up immediately. Georgie had looked surprised but not one bit scared. Instead, she’d calmly followed all his instructions.
“Yes, I always keep my wits about me,” she said in an adorably smug voice. “Bertie taught me how to swim when I was a little girl—when we spent the summers in the country.” She cocked an eyebrow at her brother. “I was very good at holding my breath. Better than you, as I recall.”
“Good Lord, I’d forgotten that,” Bertie said. “Seems I’ve forgotten a lot of things.”
“Like the fact that I’m perfectly capable of making rational decisions for myself?” she asked. “Like who I want to marry?”
Fergus had been hoping to speak to Bertie alone first, but Georgie had clearly decided to take matters into her own hands. And perhaps that was how it should be. If there was anything he’d learned over the last two difficult years, it was that you must listen to and trust the people you love. That had been a hard lesson for him, but now Georgie somehow made it seem easy.
Bertie let out an exasperated sigh. “I think that’s something Mr. Haddon and I should discuss on our own.”
“Certainly not,” Georgie said. “You’ll just bully him.”
“No, he won’t, sweetheart. I won’t let him.” Fergus started to rise. “Mr. Gage, I’m happy—”
Georgie interrupted by yanking him back down. “Don’t move, Fergus. This is between Bertie and me.”
She’d pulled on him so hard that he almost toppled off the edge of the chaise. Righting himself, Fergus had to swallow a laugh. God, she was wonderful. “Of course, Georgie. Whatever you say.”
She gave him an engaging little grin before going back to scowling at her brother.
Unfortunately, Bertie scowled back. “You do recall that I’m your guardian. You cannot marry without my permission, at least not until you’re of age.”
Georgie stiffened beside him, and Fergus lost any impulse to laugh.
“Bertie, why are you kicking up such a fuss?” Eliza demanded. “Fergus is a perfect gentleman, and it’s clear he’s devoted to Georgie.”
Bertie looked genuinely unhappy. “I’m not trying to be difficult, I swear. But I have a responsibility to Georgie. To protect her.”
Again, Fergus started to rise. “Mr. Gage, I think—”
Georgie hauled him back down again. “Sit, Fergus. And be quiet.”
“But…” When her eyes narrowed to irritated slits, Fergus held up his hands. She clearly needed to do this, and he needed to let her do it, no matter the outcome.
Georgie folded her hands in her lap and looked up at Bertie. “All right, dear. Please tell me what’s worrying you about Fergus.”
Bertie shook his head. “It’s not about him, per se. I know he’s a good man, and I realize now that he loves you.”
“Then what is the issue?”
“It’s his family,” Bertie said in a tight voice. “Has he told you about them?”
Damn.
Out of the corner of his eye, Fergus saw Will exchange a glance with his wife. Evelyn slipped from the room.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Georgie said. Then her brow cleared. “Oh, you’re talking about that silly duel, when Fergus challenged his cousin. I know about that, Bertie. He explained it all to me and said what a mistake it was.”
“I don’t care about that,” Bertie said. “Most men make stupid mistakes when they’re young.”
Georgie cast Fergus a puzzled glance. “What is he talking about?”
He glanced up at Bertie, who gave a somber nod. Sighing, he took Georgie’s hand. This was the moment he’d been dreading, but he couldn’t put it off any longer. “It’s about my mot
her,” he said. “She’s…she’s ill.”
She blinked. “I didn’t realize your mother was still alive.”
“She is,” he said tersely.
Georgie studied him for a few moments, then nodded. “All right. What kind of illness does she suffer from?”
“It’s an illness…in the head.” God, even now he couldn’t say the awful word. It stuck in his throat like paste.
Georgie’s startled gaze flicked to her brother.
“I’m sorry, old girl, but it’s true,” Bertie said. “Mrs. Haddon suffers from a form of madness that is also, unfortunately, violent.”
Georgie sucked in a harsh breath.
“Good Lord,” Eliza said in a faint voice.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Will said from his corner by the door.
Bertie shot him an ironic look. “It sounded pretty bad when you told me.”
Fergus glared at his friend. “You told him? What the hell for?”
“He asked me about your family,” Will said. “What the devil was I supposed to do?”
“I’ll ask you both to watch your language in front of my wife and sister,” Bertie said. “And Mrs. Clotworthy,” he added as an afterthought.
“For God’s sake, Bertie,” Eliza said. “As if that’s important at a time like this.”
Georgie tugged on Fergus’ hand. “That’s why you kept putting me off. Why didn’t you tell me?” She was blinking, trying to hold back tears. Fergus swore he could hear his heart breaking.
“I wanted to protect you,” he said.
“Exactly,” Bertie exclaimed. “I’m glad someone else besides me in this blasted household is trying to do that.”
“That should tell you a great deal about his character,” Georgie said to her brother. Then she fastened her earnest gaze back on Fergus. “Dearest, can you—”
The door flew open and slammed into the wall. Lady Reese stood in the doorway, dressed in a flamboyant red flannel wrapper. Her hair was down, and for some unfathomable reason she had a highly trimmed purple bonnet crammed onto her head.
“What is going on in here?” she demanded, stalking into the room.
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