by Lorri Dudley
What did it mean?
Harrison scanned the schoolhouse one last time from the doorway. All looked as it should, so he closed the door and turned to the wagon. Max waved goodbye to his playmates and climbed into the back of the conveyance, while Harrison assisted Georgia into her seat, then took his place behind the reins. As they bumped down the lane, he glanced at Georgia. The once prim princess looked nothing of the sort in her soiled dress, complete with a rip in the sleeve from Max’s hasty grab for the game stones.
“I’m sorry about your gown.”
She stared down at the brown smudges on the pink material. “It appears another dress has succumbed to the island.” She sighed and picked at the dirt under her fingernails.
The wooden seat creaked as they rumbled over a pothole. She murmured something indistinguishable amidst the noise.
“I beg your pardon?”
“It was worth it. Thank you.”
He blinked at her. “For what?”
“For allowing me to come. I realize you believe me to be self-absorbed. And well…maybe I am to some extent.”
He opened his mouth, but she continued before he could comment. “But I enjoyed teaching the children. Their faces were priceless, especially after they read a particularly challenging word.” She turned around. “And Max, you have quite the vocabulary for a boy of eight years.”
Max popped up beside her. “I know. I already know what ostentatious means.”
Georgia shook her head with a smile. “And very self-confident.”
“Like my dad.” He beamed.
Harrison chuckled, and despite herself, Georgia did too. A confused Max swung his head back and forth between the two. “What’s so funny?” Which only made them laugh harder.
Harrison hadn’t laughed this much in ages—at least not since Laura passed. It felt good, as if it were cleansing the corroded recesses deep within.
Georgia settled back in her seat and observed the scenery with a contented smile. “It’s so different here.”
Her life had undergone quite a change. It had taken him and Max at least six months after they first arrived before they adapted to the oppressive heat, strange critters, and ethnic foods. On all accounts, Georgia had adjusted remarkably well. A twinge of guilt pinched his side. “Do you miss your family in London?”
She didn’t answer right away. He watched the range of emotions cross her face—sorrow, frustration, relief, longing. “I do miss them but…” She smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirts and sat up a little straighter. The mere mention of her mother and sisters seemed to cause Georgia to fret, as if subconsciously she were still trying to please them.
Her fingers brushed over a small snag in her dress, and a rush of air passed her lips. Her blue eyes met his, filled with confusion. “It’s merely that… things here are so… free. I love my family, and I love London, but sometimes it’s…” She wilted into the backrest. “Exhausting.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her temples.
“Here, people don’t presume much,” Harrison said. “But in London, keeping up with the role that’s expected of you is tedious work.”
Georgia opened her eyes and her lips parted. “Exactly.”
He fought hard not to laugh at her surprise. He understood more than she knew.
Georgia quieted once again, staring out at the ocean as they rode along.
He should leave her to her thoughts. A glance back at Max showed the boy had fallen asleep in the back, stretched out like a starfish with his hat over his face.
“I made quite a muck of it at first.” Georgia stared down at her hands. “I didn’t know how to be sophisticated like my sisters. I couldn’t even hold a conversation. All I knew to talk about was fishing or hunting.” She chuckled to herself. “That didn’t go over well with the other young women.”
“I can imagine.” Harrison pictured the astonished faces of the ladies of the ton when, instead of discussing the latest fashion trends, she spoke of the best angler to use. “But the men must have found you refreshing.”
“You would think so, but most took their cues from the women and avoided me like I’d contracted smallpox.”
“Fickle bunch, the whole lot of them.” An ache formed in his chest for the ostracized wisp of a girl. “Your sisters didn’t help?”
Her brow furrowed. “My sisters didn’t like me much.”
“But they’re family. What you do reflects on them.”
“That’s true, but their bitterness overrode it. You see, it was like the story of Joseph my father talked about on Sunday. Jacob favored Joseph, and his siblings grew jealous. Papa favored me. Although my sisters didn’t throw me into a well or sell me into slavery, they used my flaws to their advantage. They put me in situations where they knew I would make a fool of myself, and it worked—perfectly. I quickly fell out of favor with the ton and was relegated to the status of wallflower.”
“Someone of your beauty and lineage wouldn’t stay that way for long.”
She shrugged. “I used the time to observe the ton’s interactions. I studied how the women flirted, and practiced it at home in front of the mirror. I listened to conversations and learned what drew the best reactions. I came back the second season and set the ton on its ear.”
A rush of pleasure and pride filled his chest as if he’d had anything to do with her success. “I wish I’d witnessed that.” He bumped his shoulder against hers. “And see, like Joseph you made the best of a bad situation. God will honor that.”
“Truthfully…” Her countenance fell. “I didn’t like myself. I manipulated people to get what I wanted.” Her eyes lowered and a pink flush stained her cheeks. “I still do. God doesn’t honor that.”
“No, but if you repent. God will forgive.” His eyes locked with hers. “You can change.”
Just as God was changing Harrison’s view of Georgia. He now saw the source of her hurts and the reasons behind her haughty behavior. Georgia was a survivor. To become that way, she’d built thick and fortified walls around her heart. Her eyes searched his as if looking for redemption, but she needed to seek forgiveness from God, not from him.
He halted the horses, and they munched at the weeds on the side of the road. “Georgia, I…” He didn’t know what he meant to say. I’m sorry you’ve been hurt so badly?
She would reject his pity, and the walls would go back up, thicker than ever. Instead, he looked at her—truly, looked at her. He found passion in the turquoise depths of her eyes. Georgia felt deeply, cared deeply, and loved deeply, but her wounded heart couldn’t take another beating. No wonder she safeguarded herself behind thick armor.
As the sun glinted off her golden head, he wondered what it would be like to step behind those walls, to unleash the passion she bottled up. He shifted to face her, and his eyes dropped to the soft pink of her mouth. He lifted his hand and brushed his knuckle down her cheek.
When she didn’t pull away, he trailed his finger across the softness of her lips. She gasped, and her eyes held a swirl of emotion—confusion, timidity, maybe even a hint of longing. One side of his mouth pulled into a half smile. Why did he derive so much pleasure in shocking her?
Like a boat drifting into shore, he leaned in closer.
She jerked against the seatback, jarring him out of the moment.
He stiffened and righted himself. What had come over him? He turned forward again and snapped the reins.
They rode in silence until she cleared her throat. “When does the next ship come into port?”
His brows drew together. “Toward the end of the month, give or take a week. Why?”
She reminded him of a panicked child. She wouldn’t even look at him. “Lord Claremont might be on it, of course.”
Harrison snapped the reins again to stir on the horses. “Of course.” He didn’t like the bitter quality of his voice.
“Do you miss London?” she blurted. Maybe she was trying to rebuild some sort of normalcy.
&nb
sp; “Not really.”
“You believe the memories are still there?”
He shrugged. “Probably…maybe…I don’t know.”
“It must have been terrible for you.”
“It was.”
“I remember when Papa left. At first, I sat in his reading chair and cried and cried. I slept there the first week he was gone, but after a while, that chair became a bitter reminder. Eventually, I couldn’t even pass by the study without getting angry.”
He’d done a similar thing. He’d wake in the middle of the night, still feeling Laura lying next to him, only to stretch out his fingers over cool sheets. After a while, he started sleeping in one of the guest chambers because he could still smell her perfume in their room. He thought relocating to the country could help him move on, but it didn’t. So he packed their things and sailed to this distant island. He’d owned land here, but Laura would never travel this far. Her memories couldn’t haunt him here. Or so he’d thought.
“It’s why I came here. Friends and family in London believe I should have stayed and preserved her memory for Max, but I couldn’t.”
He glanced at her, tried a smile. “Death changes you. Everywhere I went I saw flashes of her smile, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face, pale and tense with pain before she died.”
“I’m terribly sorry.”
Her words were a truce of some sort. Kindred pain reflected in the depths of her eyes. “It was a beautiful night, but it turned into my worst nightmare.”
Chapter 15
…It is a tragic tale. A wife lost in the prime of her youth. The duke driven into solitude by his grief. What many a woman would do for such devotion. I, for one, would dutifully seek his affections for my daughter if he was to emerge from isolation.
—From a match-making mama of the le bon ton to an acquaintance
The pain of Harrison’s memories festered, and he soaked in Georgia’s presence beside him on the wagon, seeking her solace as a healing balm. She didn’t say anything, but as their gazes held, the compassion in her doe eyes compelled him to loosen the cork on his bottled-up pain. He opened his mouth, the need inside him overwhelming his good sense. His story emerged in bits and spurts, but soon, the cathartic retelling had him reliving that fateful night.
Seven Years Earlier
“I was suffocating.” Harrison observed the sprinkling of stars struggling to emerge as the sky faded from light pink to blackish-purple. He sucked in a breath and rolled his shoulders to relax his muscles as he and his wife waited for their carriage to be brought around.
Laura laughed, a natural, throaty sound that stirred his blood. “I’d say you were being smothered. If Lady Eastrum’s guests had stood any closer, they’d have been wearing your clothes.” She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Socializing with you enhances their reputations. I expect tomorrow I’ll hear all about how you talked the ear off of Mr. Osgood, or specifically sought out Lord Atwell, when I know very well nothing of the sort happened.”
He massaged the back of his shoulder with one hand, then tilted his head from side to side, stretching his neck until it resounded with a satisfying crack. How he dreaded these social engagements.
“It’s because you’ve become a recluse.” Laura's voice took on a censorious tone. “If you attended more social gatherings with me, everyone wouldn’t be so hard-pressed to gain your attention.”
He opened his eyes to the approaching sound of clopping hooves as their team of horses arrived, pulling their carriage up to the steps. The footman jumped down from the rumble seat and opened the door to their town coach. At the moment, the luxurious velvet cushions reminded him of the inside of a coffin.
He needed to move. He needed to breathe.
Harrison released a rush of air through puffed lips, leaned his head back, and peered up into the velvet sky. On a whim, he blurted, “Shall we stroll home?”
Laura fiddled with her necklace and peered down the road in the direction of their townhouse. Couples strolled arm-in-arm as the lamplighters traversed from street light to street light, illuminating the night.
“It’s getting dark.”
“The sun has barely set.” He claimed her hand, and his fingers slid along the satin material of her gloves.
She smiled, and his eyes dropped to her lips. He barely restrained himself from planting a kiss on them, right there with other party-goers strolling around them.
Blushing, she glanced down and rested a hand on her stomach. “Dinner was lovely. Lady Eastrum outdid herself.”
“Have you felt any kicks yet?”
She shook her head. “No, silly, it’s too early.
“Two little ones in under two years. At this rate, you’ll outpace the old woman who lived in a shoe.”
She bubbled with laughter. “Because we’ll have so many children, we won’t know what to do?”
“Don’t fret, Your Grace.” He smiled what he hoped was a charming grin. “There will be no shoe dwelling if I have any say in the matter.”
“Thank heaven for that.” She heaved a sigh, and the bodice of her dress swelled. “I’ve just regained my freedom. All too soon, I’ll be showing, and my confinement will begin once more.” She tightened her shawl about her shoulders. “A stroll might be just the thing.”
“It’s settled then.” He raised his hand and signaled for their carriage to leave without them.
Harrison pulled his wife closer, and they ambled down the street toward their townhouse. “Have you thought of any names yet?”
“If the baby is a boy, we could name him Simon after my father or George after yours.”
He rumbled those names around in his mind. They sounded rather old for an infant, but the baby would grow into them. “And if it’s a girl?”
“Jane. I’m taken with Jane.”
“Jane.” The name rolled off his lips. “I like Jane.”
Laura rested her head on his shoulder and picked her way along the cobbled street. The farewells of Lady Eastrum’s guests as they disseminated faded into the background.
A candle in the upstairs bedroom window of their townhome meant Maxwell was still up. They’d have time to kiss their son before he drifted off to sleep. A shadow shifted in Harrison’s periphery. He paused and squinted through the dim light in the direction of the movement.
“What is it?” Laura’s brows drew together.
“Nothing.” Yet even as he spoke the word, the back of his neck tingled. No need to be so paranoid, old chap. This is Mayfair, not the stews.
He secured his wife’s hand in the crook of his elbow and quickened his pace until Laura’s breath came in audible gasps.
“Please, slow down. I’m having difficulty keeping up.”
He lessened his gait. “Sorry, darling—”
“Well, well, what ‘ave we ‘ere?”
A man dusted in soot with a scarf covering the lower half of his face stepped out of a side alley. Harrison pushed his wife behind him. As he searched for a means to bypass this stranger, a second scarved man slid out from the shadows and closed in behind them.
Trapped.
Harrison’s eyes shifted to the man’s hands where the gleam of shiny metal reflected the lamplight.
A gun.
“My man ‘as been keepin’ an eye on you, gov’ner. Saw you comin’ from a fancy party. Figured you’d ‘ave some silver pieces jinglin’ in yer pocket we can help lighten.”
Harrison turned sideways to keep both men in his line of vision, but focused on the one who’d done the talking. “My wife and I don’t want any trouble. We’ll give you what you want, and then you can let us be.”
The leader’s eyes hardened, and his lips curled up in a snarl. “You’ll be handin’ me your purse then.”
The shaking of Laura’s hands as she clung to his jacket twisted Harrison’s stomach. Gritting his teeth, he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his purse full of coins. He tossed it to the cold-eyed man, then stepped back. “We’ll be going t
hen.”
“Not so fast,” the leader said. “The lady needs to hand over her jewels.”
The other bandit shifted the barrel of the gun to Laura, but Harrison shielded her with his body. He fought the rush of anger energizing his muscles and kept his mind focused. He peered into the henchman’s eyes. They shifted in nervous saccades.
This one was scared.
The man was small in stature. He could take him if necessary.
“Everyone remain calm. My wife will hand over her jewels, and then you can be on your way.” He appealed to the henchman’s humanity. “Our little boy is waiting for his mama to tuck him in for bed.”
Laura held out the sapphire bracelet he’d given her for her birthday and dropped it into the leader’s open palm. The man’s weasel eyes narrowed on her neck and nodded. “Now the necklace.”
Her slender fingers reached back and fumbled with the latch.
The leader’s eyes darted up the street. “Give it over already.”
Laura’s face shone white in the moonlight as she struggled with the jewelry, but her gloves must have been impeding her progress.
“Yer wastin’ time. Make ‘er give it over.” He smacked his henchman on the shoulder, startling him.
The pistol slipped from the henchman’s fingers, and he fumbled to right it. Seeing an opportunity, Harrison lowered his shoulder and drove into the man’s chest. The gun spun in the air and bounced between the robber’s palms. Harrison reached for the weapon as the man lunged at it with both hands.
The gun exploded.
The sound echoed in Harrison’s ears. The world fell silent except for the piercing ring. He slapped at the weapon, and it skidded across the cobblestones, but the henchman didn’t move. Only his jaw trembled as he stared past him.
Sickening fear shot through Harrison, and his heart froze. He spun around to find Laura sprawled on the ground, blood seeping through the bodice of her gown.
“Laura!” His heart raced into triple time as he scrambled to his wife’s side. He pressed a hand on the wound to staunch the flow of blood, but the crimson liquid pooled around his fingers. He gently lifted her head with his other hand and placed it on his lap. Fear filled her eyes as they met his. A fear that nearly squeezed the breath out of him.
