by Cheryl Holt
He was thrilled to note that she hadn’t aged well. Her face was deeply lined, her hair sparse and patchy, and she was thin as a rail, as if guilt had been eating her alive.
“Georgina? Are you all right? I heard a noise.” She noticed him and gasped. “Who are you, sir? Georgina! What is the meaning of this?”
“I am Damian Drummond,” he blithely said.
“Drummond!” Her malicious gaze raked over him as if searching for a hint of the boy he’d been, but that child was dead and buried.
“I’ve been visiting your niece.” He grinned. “I heartily enjoyed myself too.”
“Georgina!” Augusta snapped, and she stamped her foot.
Damian glanced at Georgina, and she appeared horrified. She was partially concealed by the blanket, a bare shoulder visible, so there was no hiding that she was naked under the covers.
“Aunt Augusta!” Georgina hurriedly said. “I can explain.”
Damian scoffed. “Don’t bother, Georgina. You’re no longer any of this witch’s business.”
“What have you been doing?” Augusta demanded of Damian.
“Precisely what you think.” He glanced at Georgina again. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”
“Well…”
“I insist, Georgina, and if this shrew”—he cast an angry thumb at Augusta—“gives you any grief, head over to the manor and spend the night with me. In fact, come with me now.”
She hemmed and hawed, gaped and dithered. She gawked at her aunt, at him, at her aunt again. She gulped with dismay and tears filled her eyes. “Damian, I can’t possibly.”
“Why not?”
“I’m…I’m…ah…I should talk to my aunt.”
“Fine. Talk if you must, but it’s pointless to deal with her.”
“I have to,” she replied, looking miserable.
He left without another word, and while he probably should have stayed and protected her, should have shooed Augusta out and ordered her to sod off, it was clear Georgina was anxious to fight her own battle. And he was happy to let her.
If she didn’t want his help, he certainly wouldn’t force her to receive it.
He kept on, and it dawned on him that when he’d told her he’d miss her, he hadn’t been lying for once. He missed her. He really did.
Fancy that.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Well? You claimed you could explain yourself.”
“I can, Aunt Augusta.”
“I will be down in the decrepit parlor that passes for a dining room in this wretched abode. I suggest you join me immediately.”
Augusta whipped away and marched down the hall, but not too quickly.
She wanted to be sure Mr. Drummond had exited the house, and it would be too awkward to bump into him at the bottom of the stairs.
She proceeded to the dining room and lit a few candles. She seated herself, but didn’t have to tarry long before Georgina stumbled in. She’d dressed in a hurry, not bothering with corset or shoes, and her hair was tied back with a ribbon.
Though Augusta would never admit it, she wished the blasted girl had taken her time arriving. Augusta was very disturbed and needed to arrange her thoughts.
Once she’d learned of Drummond’s fascination with Georgina, she’d advised her to initiate an affair, but she hadn’t actually imagined Georgina could pull it off. She’d behaved precisely as Augusta had commanded her to behave, but Augusta had never witnessed such a sordid sight. She was struggling to find the words to congratulate Georgina, yet how could any sane woman condone such dissipation?
“I’m sorry, Augusta,” Georgina said as she slid into a chair. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? I told you to ruin yourself. It appears you have.”
“It’s all right though.”
“Has he offered to keep you? If so, what boons will he extend? I hope you were shrewd enough to drive a hard bargain.”
“I didn’t bargain.”
“What? If you haven’t obtained what we need, I swear I’ll beat you with a stick.”
“It’s turned out much better than I could ever have planned.”
“Since I saw Mr. Drummond strutting out of your bedchamber like a smug peacock, I suppose you have to say that.”
“He wasn’t smug. He was…happy, I think.”
“Drummond, happy? You’re mad if you assume so. Men of his ilk are rarely pleased by innocent females. If he seemed happy, I’m certain it’s because he’s taken the only item of value you possessed.”
Georgina blushed furiously. “He didn’t take anything from me. I gave it freely.”
“You’re just like your mother then—as I always suspected.”
“Don’t disparage her. I’m not in the mood to listen to your insults.”
“Fine, we won’t drag your mother into it. We’ll simply accept that you’re a very immoral person for no reason at all. You’ve finally been shown what all women are forced to discover sooner or later. What is your opinion? Was it the grandest event ever?”
“I won’t discuss it with you, and stop making snide comments.”
“I just caught you naked with the man who has destroyed our family. Pardon me if I’m a tad out of sorts.”
“I did what you asked of me! I did what you demanded.”
“Yes, you did.” Augusta slapped a palm on the table. “Now tell me what promises you received. Will he give you money? A house? Clothes? Will we be allowed to remain at Kirkwood?”
“I didn’t talk to him about any of those issues.”
“You’re joking.”
“No. He was tired. He said we’d confer over the details in the morning.”
“You believed him?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I have?”
“Oh, my Lord. You have to be the stupidest young lady in the kingdom.”
“He’s not the monster people presume him to be. He’s kind and generous. It will be all right.”
“How will it be all right if you’ve wrangled no concessions?”
Georgina smiled an exasperating smile. “I didn’t need concessions, because I attained the best conclusion of all.”
“What the devil—in your distorted view—is the best conclusion?”
“He proposed.”
“Proposed what?”
“Marriage. He asked me to marry him, and I agreed.”
“He asked you? He proposed?”
“Yes.” Georgina was perplexed. “Why are you staring at me like that? It’s the perfect solution. Aren’t you glad?”
“I’m positively delirious, but humor me for a moment, would you?”
“Of course.”
“How was the conversation begun? Were you chatting and he suddenly popped the question? Was he down on his knee and clasping your hand? What?”
“I simply told him I couldn’t proceed unless he wed me.”
“Ah…I see.”
“What do you see?”
“You brought up the idea of matrimony.”
“Yes.”
“He insisted he’d wed you after you spread your legs for him.”
Georgina colored again, her embarrassment fierce. “We’ll have the vicar call the banns on Sunday. We’ll hold the ceremony next month.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really, Augusta. Why are you being so horrid? If I’m his bride, I’ll be able to help you and Sophia. I have no doubt of it.”
“There’s just one small problem, Georgina.”
“What is it?”
“Mr. Drummond has proposed to Portia.”
“What? No, that can’t be true.”
“Trust me, it is. She came over yesterday to seek my advice as to whether she should accept.”
Georgina shook her head. “She had to have misunderstood.”
“He tendered financial records to her father.”
“He what?”
“He’s provided her father with hard numbers so they can see how rich he is.”
Georgina’s
expression was stony. “You’re lying. You have to be.”
“I’m not lying, Georgina. Get up in the morning and ride over to visit Portia. You can ask her yourself. You don’t have to take my word for it.”
“You’re trying to hurt me, to scare me.”
“I’m not! I swear! I’m merely trying to figure out what happened in that bedchamber, because it isn’t what you suppose.”
Reality was gradually sinking in, and Georgina’s expression appeared so wounded that Augusta almost felt sorry for her—almost—but she’d never liked Georgina and she wasn’t about to start oozing empathy.
“But…but…” Georgina stammered, “if he’s betrothed to Portia, where does that leave me?”
“I believe it leaves you tricked and ruined and played for a fool. You better pray that a babe didn’t catch or you’ll be in a predicament beyond your imagining.”
Georgina rubbed her fingers over her abdomen. “I could be with child?”
“Yes, so I suggest you have a long, frank talk with Mr. Drummond.”
“What if he…denies me?”
“Then you’ve dug a deep hole for yourself, haven’t you?”
“Will you speak to him for me?”
“I wouldn’t lower myself.”
Georgina pondered her dilemma, then muttered, “He wouldn’t mistreat me. He said we’d call the banns. I refuse to consider he wasn’t serious.”
“I hate to nag, Georgina, but it obviously hasn’t occurred to you.”
“What hasn’t?”
“A cad will promise anything to crawl under a woman’s skirt. Don’t you know that? I’ve lectured you about men and their motives your whole life.”
“You think he lied to me?”
“I’m sure of it, and I’m sick of you. Get out of my sight.” Georgina didn’t move, and August shouted, “Go, Georgina! Now! Go away!”
Georgina slid off her chair and scooted out, and Augusta listened as she raced up the stairs.
“Stupid girl,” she chided to the empty space. “Stupid, stupid girl.”
Georgina huddled in the corner of the estate agent’s office. She was trying to be invisible, hiding where she wouldn’t be found.
It was after nine in the morning already, and she was floating in a peculiar cloud of lethargy. After her repugnant meeting with Augusta, she hadn’t slept a wink. She’d been too distressed. Once dawn had arrived, she’d crept over to the one place at Kirkwood where she’d ever felt like she mattered. It had been a coward’s choice though.
She glanced around, struggling to remember the years she’d worked in the small room. She’d been good at her job, happy at her job. She liked to be useful, and it had been exciting to be given so much responsibility.
Who was she now? What was she now?
She should have picked another course of action rather than hiding, but she wasn’t a fighter and couldn’t bear to have the conversation that needed to be had. She should have stormed up to the master suite, should have barged in and demanded answers from Damian, but she was terrified of what those answers might be.
What if he told her Augusta was correct, that he was betrothed to Portia? Or what if he said he wasn’t, but Georgina later discovered he was lying? The entire situation was fraught with danger.
She was extremely bewildered and couldn’t figure out how to proceed. She was supposed to have joined him for breakfast, but she hadn’t. She was too overwhelmed.
What sort of man behaved so despicably? How could he be so cruel? He understood how lonely she was, how much she’d wanted someone to care. How could he play on her sympathies, blithely ruin her, and break her heart?
Was he a monster after all?
She wished she was a powerful, adamant person. She wished she knew how to confront all the people who were killing her with their disregard. She’d like to seek out Portia and inform her that Damian belonged to her and Portia couldn’t have him.
She’d like to tell Augusta how much she’d never liked her, how unfair and ghastly she’d always been. Most of all, she’d like to march up to Damian and ask, Why? Why did you do this to me?
But instead, she was cowering in the corner, yearning to float up into the sky and drift away.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and she braced as Damian entered. He didn’t note her lurking, but went to the window to stare out at the horses grazing in the meadow.
She studied him, curious that he could seem like such a stranger. During a few glorious encounters, she’d felt so connected to him, but now she was incredibly worried about the future. Would he hope to wed Portia, but carry on an affair with Georgina behind Portia’s back? Could he actually assume Georgina would consent to such a shameful arrangement?
In her bedchamber, her portmanteau was packed. She had to return to the cottage, retrieve it, and depart, but if she tried to stand she didn’t think her legs would support her. Where was she to go anyway?
Finally he spun and saw her, and he smiled as if he was thrilled.
“There you are, sleepyhead,” he said. “I’ve stopped by the dining room five times already to learn if you’d arrived. I was about to come over and wake you.”
“Hello,” was all she could manage in reply.
“What’s wrong? You look upset.”
“I am.”
He crossed over to her, and before she grasped what he intended, he dipped down and kissed her. She was so surprised that she didn’t try to prevent it.
“You can’t be despondent,” he said.
“Why can’t I?”
“This is the best day ever.” He grabbed a chair and pulled it over to sit directly in front of her, their knees touching. “What is it? Is it Augusta? Was she horrid to you? I shouldn’t have left you there with her. I should have made you leave with me.”
“I owed her an explanation.”
“Was she awful to you?”
“She was.”
“Tell me you held your own against her though. Tell me you gave as good as you got.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” He grinned as if life was a big joke. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be truthful though. I am a renowned liar after all, but you can certainly ask. Let’s see what sort of response you can drag out of me.”
She took a deep breath, feeling as if she was running toward a cliff and about to jump off. “Are you engaged to marry Portia Smithwaite?”
He frowned. “Engaged to Miss Smithwaite? Why would you be wondering about that?”
“Are you?”
He glanced away. “No.”
“No, as in not yet? Are you about to be?”
He pushed back his chair and seated himself behind the desk so there was a bit of distance between them.
“You’re in such a dither,” he said. “Why? Has Augusta been filling your head with nonsense?”
“Is it nonsense? I notice you haven’t given me a straight answer.”
He shrugged. “I told you I wasn’t.”
“All right. You’re not currently engaged to her. Have you proposed?” There was the longest pause in history, and she murmured, “Just tell me, Damian.”
“Yes, I’ve proposed.”
If he’d taken out a knife and stabbed her with it, she couldn’t have been any more painfully wounded.
“Then how could you propose to me?” she demanded.
“I wanted you to be happy.”
It was the strangest comment ever. How did his mind work? “You wanted me to be happy so you offered a false marriage proposal?”
They stared, his gaze perplexed as if she was being a shrew and he couldn’t figure out why.
“What are we to do now?” she asked.
“Now…we should have breakfast. I’ve been waiting for you all morning.”
“Have breakfast?” The man was utterly deranged. “What about Portia?”
“What about her?”
“Will you wed her?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
&
nbsp; “You don’t intend to follow through?” She laughed bitterly. “Well, it’s finally happened. Portia and I have something in common. Neither of us can be sure about you.”
“I don’t know why you’re being so difficult.”
“Why I’m being difficult? What is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not stupid. Stop acting as if you are.”
“I agree. I’m not stupid, but I can’t bear to hurt you, and it appears you want me to be blunt.”
“Yes, please be very blunt.”
“I behaved dreadfully last night. I never planned to wed you, but I forged ahead anyway.”
“I see.”
“But I’d be delighted to keep you with me.”
“Keep me as your…what?”
He struggled to find the appropriate term, but there was only one that applied.
“As my mistress.”
“Your mistress.”
“Yes. I’ll take you away from here—wherever you’d like to go. Pick the spot—anywhere on the globe—and it can be yours.”
“I don’t want to leave Kirkwood. I’ve never wanted that. What I want is to marry you.”
He sighed. “Georgina…”
“What?”
“I’d be an awful husband.”
“Awful to which bride? Me? You seem perfectly eager to inflict yourself on Portia. Why is that? Is it because she’s Miles’s fiancée? Is that it? You’ll wed her to prove to Miles that you can, but you won’t wed me because I’m a Marshall?”
“You’re making too much of my situation with Portia.”
“Too much! I’m positive I’m not making nearly enough. And you haven’t answered my question. Is a match between us impossible because I’m a Marshall? Is that why?”
“Oh, Georgina, no, that’s not it. It’s because you’re much too good for me.”
“Really? You can say that to my face?”
“You are too good! I would never impose myself on you. You’d grow to hate me, and I couldn’t abide your scorn.”
Somehow she found the energy to push herself to her feet. She felt as if she was choking, as if there wasn’t any air in the sky, and she had to depart or suffocate.
