"There, there, now, lass, don't take on like that."
She took the handkerchief he offered and dabbed at her mostly dry eyes, hiccupping a little as she did so.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, is it... Major? I'm afraid I do not know many of these things..."
"Well, it's Sergeant, Sergeant Hickely, if it pleases you, ma'am."
Few men in Georgia's experience disliked being mistaken for someone of higher rank, and it seemed as if it worked as well for military men as it did for men of the ton.
"Oh, thank you, Sergeant Hickley. I swear, I do not usually fall to pieces like this, but you see, it has been so difficult at home. Things are so tense, and my husband has been... well, you've seen him."
"A right arse?"
Georgiana thought she would swallow her teeth as she stifled the laugh, but she contrived to nod humbly.
"He's not like this usually, you understand. It's just the stress of the household and not knowing where his brother is. And I know it is not your fault, and that you cannot tell us, but it's just too much."
Acting on inspiration, she slid her hand over her belly, which had no sign of a curve at all. However, Sergeant Hickley's eyes followed the motion, and they widened for a moment.
"I know that John would not have put down my husband's name as his relation. Just before he enlisted, they had a terrible fight, you see."
"Ah, I have heard this story. Was it a woman?"
Well, it is now. Georgiana nodded wearily.
"Yes. John thought he was in love with this woman, and she pulled him away from all of us. There were terrible fights, and my husband thought that the best way to make sure that nothing terrible happened to John was to lay down the law and forbid him from seeing her."
"I could have told your fine husband that never goes well."
"Well, that is certainly what the rest of us told him! But John joins up, and we never hear anything else of him. The woman has disappeared, John is gone, and it feels sometimes as though he was never here. Sometimes, I can feel it preying upon my husband at night when he should be sleeping. I do not think that... well, with all the changes that are going to be happening soon..."
The sergeant nodded sympathetically, so understanding that Georgiana felt a momentary pang of guilt for deceiving him.
"No, no, I understand. Well, ma'am, I am bound by my oath to queen and country to abide by the rules I was given, but those rules do not tell me when I may take my lunch, do they?"
"I suppose they do not, Sergeant."
"Well, you see that cabinet there, the one labeled with blue paper? That's all the information we have on the soldiers who have enlisted here. Alphabetical, because I do like to run a tight ship."
"Oh, I see that."
"So, I'll step out for my lunch, maybe go around the corner to the inn and try some of the chops the girls there have cooking, and I'll be, oh, say thirty minutes. Do you understand me, ma'am?"
"Oh, I do, sir, thank you!"
There was no artifice in Georgia when she threw her arms around the recruiting sergeant's neck, hugging him tightly. At the end of the day, he had helped her tremendously, even if he had no idea what he had actually helped her to do.
"And I'll even keep myself from throwing your husband into the street for being such a horse's arse, begging your pardon."
"Thank you. He's better than this usually, I swear."
"Ah, bad as he is, I have seen worse. The fact that he loves you so makes up some for the bad at any rate."
"Loves me?"
The words popped out of her mouth before she could stop them, and for a moment, she wondered if she had blown the entire thing. Proper wives knew that their husbands loved them.
Instead of being suspicious, the sergeant gave her a wry and sad smile.
"Men going off to war hurt more than just themselves, even under the best of circumstances. If he's a little strange or stiff with you, ma'am, give him time. The way he looked at you when you had your moment says something. The way he looked at me before he left, like he was like to tear me limb from limb if I touched a hair on your head, that says something, too. Well, I am off to have my lunch, and I bid you good day."
Georgiana was so shocked by his words that she didn't spring into motion until the door had closed gently behind him. She saw him passing a few words with Tristan, who hovered outside, but then she was behind the desk, looking through the papers in the cabinet marked with blue.
There were so many papers stacked there, but they were neatly filed, as he had promised, and she found Private John Watersley almost immediately. Georgiana paused with the man's papers just under her fingers, and she felt a wave of nausea go over her. The worst thing, she thought dizzily, was how very familiar it was. There was a time when she had felt sick all day and into the night just thinking his name. She had fought very hard not think of it at all, and she had mostly been successful. Then all of this had started.
She shook her head hard to clear it, took a deep clearing breath, and made herself read the papers in front of her. Seeing his familiar signature nearly drowned her under another wave of sickness and fear, but she was no longer a naive and reckless girl of nineteen. She was almost savagely proud of how she pulled herself together and forced herself to read.
However, what she read was not what she wanted to see, even when she read it a second, and then a third time. Her teeth chattered as adrenaline surged through her system, and her hands were shaking as Georgiana carefully put the papers back where she had found them. It would not do to pay Sergeant Hickley back for his kindness with leaving his desk a mess.
Georgiana rose from his desk and left the small office, almost walking straight into Tristan's chest. She stumbled, and he grasped her by the shoulders, steadying her again.
"What the hell did you say to the man? He told me that even if I didn't find out what I needed to know that I must straighten out for the sake of the little one. What—?"
He stopped abruptly, and whatever he saw in her face made his next words much softer.
"Georgiana, what is it?"
"I... I need water. Or a place to sit? Something like that?"
This time, her trembling voice wasn't a sham. She really felt as if she might topple at any moment. She was grateful when Tristan nodded and, taking her by the arm, led her to a small tea room down the road. It was a shabby-genteel place run by two widowed sisters, and it smelled like faint rose and daisies. However, there was a private room where Georgiana could sit with Tristan across from her. She watched with a kind of blind fascination as a woman in a tidy pinafore rushed to pour a good black tea into her saucer and then absented herself. There was a simplicity in the moment, and for just that moment, Georgiana wished she could just live here, always, never thinking, never moving, never changing.
"Georgiana."
Tristan reached across the table for her hand, and his touch felt warm and in a way, healing. Finally, finally, she could break out of the shell that reading John Watersley's file had produced.
"He's dead."
Tristan stared at her.
"He's dead, Tristan. He has been for two years, He was killed in action somewhere in Portugal. He couldn't be the one who is blackmailing me. He can't be."
Tristan swore under his breath, low and inventively.
"Well, there's a mess and no mistake. What in the world do we do now?"
Georgiana shrugged, nearly spilling her tea as she did so. "I have no idea. Scream into my pillow at night? Sell my mother's jewels to pay off the blackmailer? Repent everything and run off to be a nun?"
Tristan smiled slightly at her. "You would make a bad nun."
"I would be terrible at it, but it seems that I am terrible at being what I am right this moment as well, so I'm not sure I have many choices."
Saucer still in her hand, she rose from the chair to pace back and forth. She was gaining her composure back, already slightly ashamed of herself for breaking down as she had. She was not used to failure, and
this crack in her armor was unacceptable.
"I need to think, I need to move forward, and I need to make sure that..."
She stopped short when Tristan rose up in front of her, stopping her movement.
"Stop for just a moment. You're going to pop if you keep this up."
She started to respond with something tart, but then Tristan sat back down, bringing her down with him. With a slight yelp, she found herself seated on his lap. Absently, she noted how his thigh was hard with muscle underneath her, and then she realized how they were seated.
"Tristan! They could come in at any moment!"
"It doesn't matter, I told them we were married. It seems to work so well so far that I might just keep it up. Sit and breathe for just a moment, please. Just breathe, nothing else."
Georgiana glared at him, but did as he said, taking long deep breaths of air. The whole time, he rubbed small circles into her back with his hand, murmuring soothing encouragement that should have been condescending, but somehow soothed her instead.
After a short span of time, longer than five minutes, shorter than fifteen, Georgiana took a final deep breath and sat up straighter. Nothing was fixed, nothing felt good, exactly, but her head felt clear. The sharp edge of her panic had been dulled at least a little bit for now, and she looked at Tristan with wry gratitude.
"Thank you. That helped a little, I think."
"I like being able to help a little. I was afraid you were going to run out and get your head bashed in by a pole you didn't see."
"Graphic, but not wrong. I feel better. We should return to Fox Hall to figure out what comes next."
Even as she said it, however, Georgiana did not rise from Tristan's lap. All at once, she realized how very close they were, how good he felt underneath her and how very tempting his mouth was.
Tristan seemed to read her thoughts, and he glanced toward the door.
"I have a feeling there are a few things they do not want to see, even if we are meant to be married."
"I can hear their footsteps in the hall."
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Tristan cupped his hand behind her neck and pulled her down for a deep kiss. The kiss did exactly what she wanted it to do. It obliterated everything else in her mind for just a few beautiful moments. All that mattered was how good Tristan felt, how good he tasted, the hunger in his hands as they slid around her and pulled him closer to her.
What would it be like to do this in the privacy of my own room? To do this naked?
Georgiana was shocked by her own lewd thoughts but not shocked enough to pull back. In fact, it was Tristan who pulled back first, smiling and slightly flushed.
"Come on, we need to get back to Fox Hall, as you said."
Georgiana almost wanted to ask why they couldn't stay here a little longer, but in the end, she sighed and got up.
"All right. Let's go figure out what comes next.
As they returned to their horses, however, Georgiana stole a look up at Tristan and realized that she had no idea what came next. None at all.
* * *
Chapter 17
Tristan was a little afraid that the senior Martin would want to join them for dinner again. He realized grimly that he had barely held it together at all when the old man had made his ugly attacks on Georgiana. If the Duke of Southerly tried that again, Tristan wasn't sure he would be able to keep his temper, and the last thing Georgiana needed was to deal with him getting thrown out of Fox Hall perhaps literally, by the footmen.
As it turned out instead, dinner was confined to himself, Georgiana, Tabi, and Eleanor Parr, and despite the strange circumstances of his and Georgiana's visit, it was surprisingly merry. He hadn't seen Eleanor since she was a young girl, and he was pleased to see that she had grown into a lovely and self-possessed young woman. Tabi and Georgiana were close, but Tristan wondered if there was some sort of wall between them that Georgiana kept up, some kind of private sorrow that kept them apart.
"I see you have picked your side in the fight between the Carrows and the Martins." Tristan grinned at Eleanor.
She lifted her chin proudly. "This isn't the Middle Ages, Tristan. I am allowed to have friends."
Georgiana had that same narrow look in her eyes again as she looked from Eleanor to Tristan. "Is this something I need to know ancient history for?"
Tristan shrugged. "Not ancient, but Renaissance, perhaps."
Tabi looked up, and Tristan remembered she was something of a historian. She would be easy enough to overlook in a ballroom, but when she was thinking about the past or talking about it, she got a bright gleam in her gray eyes.
"Oh, it's Renaissance, and possibly Medieval! The feud between the Carrows and the Martins has been going on for quite a long time, and throughout most of it, the Parrs have been involved."
"As foot soldiers, as vassals, as sacrifices, and as a bone to be fought over." Eleanor's voice was dry. "History is full of Parrs being asked to choose sides between your two houses, and I think our family is notable for choosing the losing side most of the time."
"And which side would that be?" Georgiana asked tautly.
Eleanor looked at her with wariness.
"Both, really. Neither Carrows nor Martins have had the better part of the feud. Otherwise, you would not be sitting here, or Tristan would not be sitting here."
"That's the manner of feuds." Tabi's voice was positively dreamy as she looked back over decades and decades of bloodshed. "You proclaim victory over your opponent or you are wiped out yourself. It was a near thing from time to time, for both houses, but neither prevailed over the other. Finally, about a century ago, there was a royal edict banning the feud entirely."
Tristan laughed a little. "And here we stand today, unable to beat each other down with swords, so we merely snipe each other in the galas of London. I don't know if I would call this a success or a failure."
Georgiana gave him a wry look. "I am not bleeding into my roast, and you are not dead on a battlefield somewhere. I am willing to call it a success."
"I wonder if the feud truly will die out." Eleanor's gaze roamed from Tristan to Georgiana thoughtfully. "I suppose with Thomas and Blythe's marriage, and... perhaps a few other things I've seen, I might have some hope."
Georgiana's voice took on a sharp note. "And what would those things be?"
Eleanor jumped slightly, as if they had surprised her while she was lost in thought.
"Well, the fact that you are sitting down to dinner with the Duke of Parrington is a good start, don't you think?"
Georgiana nodded reluctantly. “I suppose it must be.”
She looked so forlorn that Tristan couldn't help himself. He was usually a man of consummate control, someone who was deeply aware of what he was doing and why he was doing it. However, Georgiana was always someone who had thrown a wrench in the works.
He reached over to take her hand.
“Don't worry, if it pleases you so well, we can keep the quarrel up until doomsday.”
She smiled at that, and she started to say something, but abruptly, Tabi stood up from the table, a strange look on her face.
“I have just forgotten that there is some work that I have been meaning to do. I should go do it right now. Eleanor?”
Eleanor looked up at her, perplexed. “What?”
“I am afraid I am going to need your help. Come along.”
“But I'm not quite—”
“You can eat while we work. I'm afraid it is urgent!”
Tabi took Eleanor by the hand and tugged her away. Eleanor managed to grab a currant bun from the table before she was whisked out, a surprised look on her face.
Tristan looked after them both with surprise.
“Well, what in the world is that all about?”
Georgiana stared at him for a moment, and then she laughed. It was an oddly welcome sound after she had had such a dark time of it. She raised the hand that he had set on hers, her eyes dancing. “Really, Tristan? You real
ly have no idea?”
“Apparently not, so if you do, you should try telling me.”
“Tabi, sweet little Tabi, thinks that we're a couple. She thinks that we are courting, or perhaps that you are courting me.”
Tristan narrowed his eyes. “You must be joking.”
“No, though I admit that it took me a little longer to come to than I should have. I wonder if that's part of what is making my father so hostile. I mean, he is seldom better, but he does seem to be particularly angry this visit.”
“That can't be what people think.”
Greatly amused, Georgiana propped her chin up on her fist, looking at him with a sweet smile.
“Why not?”
“Well, because of who we are. I'm the head of the Carrow family and the Duke of Parrington. You're the daughter of the head of the Martins.”
“Actually, if you discount what might be centuries of sound and fury, we're quite a good match on paper.”
Tristan gave her a wary look. This was treading far too close to some very dark days for both of them, but Georgiana looked surprisingly relaxed. He almost wanted to stop her, but the last thing he wanted was to take that soft look of happiness off of her face when there was so much that had been going on. “Really?”
“It's true. Two ancient bloodlines, and I daresay that the society matrons would think that a man like you would settle me admirably.”
“Is that what you want, to be settled?”
“Isn't that what every woman should want?”
“That's the answer that you would give someone who asked it at a ball. We're not at a ball, and if we were, we'd be going out of our way to avoid each other.”
“I suppose that is true. Well, to tell the truth and shame the devil, no, I do not wish to be settled, Even a little bit.”
“You want adventure, like Blythe does, then.”
“Perhaps. I have never had all that much urge to roam. Mostly? I just want to live my own life, as I see it. And most of the men of our class seem intent on making sure that does not happen.”
Tristan knew he should keep his mouth shut now. However, the words were out before he could stop them. “I wouldn't want to settle you.”
The Duke's Hellion (Hart and Arrow) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 9
