Pretty Persuasion (26 page)

Then again, perhaps that really was how he saw her—despite the accusations he had thrown at her in the garden. "Thank you," she said tightly, "but that is not necessary. Blame yourself for making presumptions, if you must, but do not defend me with the same excuse. After all, you were only—how did you put it?—a means to an end."

Robert's eyes shot daggers at her, and the shame that hit her confirmed the gross untruth of that statement. If he were only a
commodity
, to borrow his phrase, she should not give a damn how he felt about it.

"The apportionment of blame seems of little importance at present," her father stated. "I can see no sense in faulting you for what has occurred, Sheffield, when you are entirely prepared, and always intended, to make amends."

Georgie drew herself up as her father leveled a hard look her way and continued. "You would be a spinster, Georgiana? To rely upon the charity of your friends and relations?"

"You would cast me out?" she asked, incredulous.

"You may depend upon it."

Her knees started shaking, and she grabbed the back of the chair for support. Surely he was merely trying to frighten her. "Do you think me a fool? You would not dare risk the scandal." His stony silence gave her the confidence to add, "Besides, I am not without prospects. Astley Park shall be mine."

"Not if I say otherwise," her father replied flatly. "It would but take a minor change in my will to leave the estate to your brother."

Georgie huffed. "I had no idea you thought so meanly of my understanding. You have no control over Astley Park. It belongs to Mamma."

"Your mother and I are of the same mind in this."

While Georgie sucked in a breath in anticipation of the final blow, her mother lowered the kerchief, red-brimmed eyes darting between her husband and daughter. Awareness of her predicament appeared in her countenance, followed by a look of hurt disbelief.

"Oh! You would put me in this position!" she cried as she shot up from the settee. She paced to the middle of the room where she stopped to throw accusing looks at them both. "I do not know why I am surprised, for it always comes to this, does it not? I vow, the pair of you are the most stubborn, impossible creatures on the face of the earth. And you throw me in the middle of your battles and expect me to take sides."

Her mother briefly closed her eyes and shook her head before going on. "I refuse to do it this time. I make no threats, and I pledge nothing. Try to bend her to your will, Charles, if you must, but do not count on my assistance. And Georgie…" She turned. "I neither understand nor condone your decision, but I will accept it—if you would make one promise."

"What?" Georgie asked cautiously.

"If you find yourself with child, you
will
marry Lord Sheffield."

Without much hesitation, Georgie gave a short nod. The prospect of bringing an illegitimate child into the world when it could be avoided was abhorrent; that was a peak of pure self-interest she did not intend to scale.

She felt Robert step up beside her before she saw or heard him, as if a part of her was devoted solely to the purpose of detecting his proximity. "I think that, in time, this matter will be resolved," he said to her parents, as if she were not present. "When it has been more thoroughly considered and emotions have calmed."

Georgie swallowed a sigh, too sober now with the reality of her situation to be angry at his unruffled insistence that she would change her mind. She could apparently do nothing about his dim-witted optimism but ignore it.

"That may be, but in the interim, I would not have her in my presence," her father said before pinning Georgie with that familiar, frosty look. "If spinsterhood is your choice, there is no purpose served by your staying in town, and it would be foolhardy to boot, as you have not proven yourself capable of proper conduct. We return to London by way of Astley Park, where you shall remain."

Astley Park, remote and desolate. The thought of being banished there, not as the owner who could come and go as she pleased but as someone trapped without means of her own made a sick feeling settle in the pit of Georgie's stomach. "For how long?"

"For however long it should please me."

"Charles, no," her mother protested. Blinking rapidly, she touched a trembling hand to her own forehead. "We cannot leave her there, all alone. It is too cruel. I will not allow it."

Her father's features remained stony. "Madam, I believe you have no say in the matter. The decision is made, and my word is final. We leave tomorrow."

Georgie watched as her father gave Robert a respectful nod then strode toward the door.

"Oh!" her mother gasped, and Georgie heard the shuffle of abrupt motions behind her. She turned just in time to see Robert catch her mother a fraction of a second before she would have hit the floor in a dead faint.

GEORGIE GAVE THREE quick raps on the door to the room to which her parents had been assigned, restraining the urge to burst through without waiting for it to be opened. Two long hours she had waited downstairs, forced to endure the tense company of Robert, Mr. Cameron, and that ass Anthony Balfour while the physician examined her mother. And afterwards, the doctor and her father had been unwilling to say anything but that her mother was resting. So it was with relief Georgie received the message that her mother desired her presence.

The door opened to reveal a severely agitated Mrs. Pease, judging from her pinched lips and high color. "Oh, bless you, thy ladyship," she said, stepping back so Georgie could enter. "Happen you can reason with her grace. She insists that a window should be open, when anyone with a wee bit of sense would know the draft is not good for her."

The edge of Georgie's concern slipped away; her mother's health could not be too poor if she had the strength to oppose the housekeeper's sickroom ordinances. "I'll do my best, Mrs. Pease."

Huffing, the older woman signaled the maid standing behind her with her hand, and the two of them took their leave. As the door shut, Georgie's gaze darted toward the plain four-poster bed where her mother lay close-eyed, propped up against a mountain of pillows. She walked quietly to the windows and inched aside the curtains—Oriental-patterned, like the rest of the room's decorations—to find the offending window.

"If you close that window, Georgie, I
shall
leave Astley Park to Richard," her mother said from across the room.

Georgie couldn't help smiling at the jocular threat, and she compromised by shutting the window halfway before moving to the bedside. "How are you feeling, Mamma?"

The blankets fell to pool around her mother's waist as she straightened her dressing-gown-clad form. "Oh, I am well," she said with a sigh. "Still fatigued, but perfectly all right."

She did appear improved. There was a light in her eyes that made her look somehow healthy despite the unnatural paleness to her skin. "What did the doctor say?" Georgie asked, not quite convinced that all was well.

"He said that…" Her mother paused, giving a faint, enigmatic smile. "I am with child!"

Georgie's jaw dropped. Her mind spun, and she could find no words to form a response. Her one-and-forty-year-old mother was with child? How could that be? Georgie knew she had suffered two miscarriages since giving birth to her, but that had been years ago.

"Because of my age, I did not even begin to suspect it when my menses stopped," her mother continued, all but beaming with pleasure now.

"But, Mamma—oh!" Georgie plumped onto the bed, her legs suddenly too weak to support her. "How can you be so happy? Your age… and your past… It is dangerous!"

Her mother released a sigh. "Your father did not understand, either, but I had hoped you would. I have been melancholy since I began to feel poorly, thinking it was the change and feeling so very old. How could I not be happy with the circumstances? And besides…" She put a hand on her abdomen, her cheeks dimpling again. "I simply know this child is here to stay."

Unable to suppress her own smile despite being far from appeased, Georgie took her mother's hand. "Then I am happy for you."

"Thank you, dear," she said, patting Georgie's hand. "And now you need not worry about being banished to Astley Park. I have Charles in the palm of my hand. If you could have seen his face when Dr. Dinsdale made the announcement…"

"He is worried?" Her father
had
seemed a bit rattled when he came downstairs.

"Oh, he didn't say as much—in truth, he didn't say much at all." Her mother's excitement seemed suddenly brittle. "Whether he is displeased or not, I am confident he shall not deprive me of your company now. After the child is born is another matter, but we'll think of something, I'm sure."

Georgie flinched. "Mamma, please do not argue with Father on my account—not in your condition. Truly, it has never been my intention to put you in a quandary when we are at odds, and I am sorry for each and every time it has happened."

"Pshaw! It is not your fault, at least not this time. It was your father who attempted to force me to take his side. And then he spoke to me in that tone…" Her mother's face twisted with indignation. "If I take advantage of his concern by asking that he let you stay with me, I vow, it is no more than he deserves."

Georgie shook her head, more puzzled than ever by her parents' relationship. Though she was of a far mellower disposition than Georgie, her mother did not have a submissive bone in her body. "How can you bear being his wife? He is even more of a bully than Lord Sheffield."

Her mother arched an eyebrow. "Lord Sheffield? Do you think you can annul the consequence of your intimacy by not using his Christian name?"

"It was an accident," Georgie replied weakly.

"What was? His name, or the intimacy?"

Cheeks burning, Georgie lowered her gaze, and her mother sighed. "Oh, Georgie… Is this why you refuse to marry him? Because he is overbearing?"

"No. No, not really. It's just that…" She hesitated. Perhaps she should explain it all. Didn't she owe her mother that much?

"I want to travel," she blurted before she could change her mind. "I want to see the world. And Robert has made it patently clear that he has no desire to travel again. He'll expect his wife to stay at his side, have his children, be his hostess. I want more than that from life. I can't bear the thought of a life where every day is no different than the next. To marry him, I'd have to give up on my dreams. Give up on myself."

With creased brows and a fist pressed to her mouth, her mother looked as if she might start to cry. At last, she exhaled harshly and said, "
Travel the world?
Oh, Georgie… Oh, dearest… It's madness! How on earth do you mean to accomplish such a thing?"

"I had meant for Lord Rossemore to accompany me. He promised he would and even seemed excited by the prospect. But then…" She wanted to look down, avoid her mother's eyes, and it took supreme effort to continue meeting her gaze head-on. "Well, now that is not an option. But I do not need a husband. I'll wait until the war is over. Until I… come into my inheritance."

For what seemed like an interminably long time, her mother stared unblinkingly at her. "I see. I cannot say that I approve. Needless to say, your father will be less than pleased. But if you really do have your mind set upon it, then I won't stand in your way. I'll most likely try to persuade you to change your mind. But I won't stand in your way."

In other words, she wouldn't be disinherited. Georgie released her pent-up breath and said, "Thank you, Mamma.
Thank you.
"

Silence fell, and then her mother gave a sigh. "As for how I manage to put up with your father… I do not know what to tell you, my dear. I knew him well when I married him, and, though I have suffered misgivings on occasion, I cannot say I have ever regretted it. There's a certain feeling that—" She broke off, her forehead puckering as though she were searching for the right words. Finally, she said softly, "That remains constant even as doubt comes and goes."

"You think I ought to marry Robert," Georgie said, heavy with the knowledge that not even her mother understood her position. "Despite his aversion towards traveling, you think I ought to marry him."

"I think that you must follow your heart," her mother said after a moment's hesitation. "As long as you are certain you know what it is you truly want. And whatever your choice, do not expect it to be easy."

A wave of exhaustion washed over Georgie, and she put her head in her mother's lap. "I thought I was taking charge of my destiny, but I was fooling myself—again."

"I am not sure you
can
take charge of your destiny," her mother reflected as she stroked Georgie's hair. "Perhaps you can only nudge it and hope it takes you in the right direction."

As Georgie closed her eyes and absorbed the familiar comfort of her mother's touch, she thought that it should be nice to know exactly what the right direction was.

"It disgusts me the ease with which some will profess to Love. And really, what is love next to Honesty and Respect? Marrying for love is foolishness; it is a fleeting emotion, and when it disappears, all that is left is Resentment. I should never marry a man who professed to love me."

— From the diary of Lady Georgiana Montford, aged 20

ROBERT LEFT HIS bedchamber, having observed the customs of polite society and changed into evening clothes despite suspecting there would not be much social intercourse to be had that night. It felt to him as if a dark cloud had swallowed the entire house, though it was most likely more a reflection of his own mood than anything.

It had been an utter mess of a day.

And it was not over yet, for striding down the corridor, he found himself heading in the direction of the guest wing. He knew where he was going and why, and the knowledge, quite frankly, frightened him. Why could he not let her go? He had been rejected, used, then rejected again, and still he was drawn to her. Somehow, at some point, she had become too important for his peace of mind. So important that, as she was slipping away from him, he felt as if she were wrenching a part of himself along with her.