Tristan blinked. “At the beginning, the thought might have crossed my mind, but for God’s sake, Georgiana, can’t you tell now that I’m sincere? That I’ve been sincere for quite some time?”
Facing him again, she nodded. “But we can’t do this,” she whispered.
The blood drained from his face. “Why not? Why in damnation can’t we marry?”
“Because I won’t marry you to avoid gossip or blackmail, Tristan. With the way we began, I couldn’t stand wondering whether either of us had been forced into marriage for any reason.”
A muscle in his jaw clenched. Georgiana wished she hadn’t said it, but it was true. If they married for either guilt or protection they would always resent one another, and she would never be able to trust him completely.
“There’s always a reason for marriage,” he said, holding her gaze. “You can’t hope to avoid all of them.”
“But I can avoid this. I won’t let you attempt to save me this way. I can save myself.”
“Georgiana, don’t—”
“No,” she broke in, turning for the door. She needed to leave now, before he saw her crying. “I can’t marry you, Tristan. Not under these circumstances.”
He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around before she was even aware that he’d closed the distance between them. “But under other circumstances, you would.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and almost a plea. “I might.” She pulled away from him and fled out the door.
For politeness’s sake she should take her leave of the aunts but, blast it all, tears began rolling unbidden down her cheeks again. She hurried downstairs, snatched her bonnet and shawl from a very startled Dawkins, and fled into Aunt Frederica’s coach. “Take me home.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She needed to talk to someone, to tell them what a muck she’d made of everything. If she told Frederica, though, her aunt would probably tell Grey, and then Grey would go after Tristan, and one of them would get hurt. The same would happen if she went to her brother or Emma, and she couldn’t go to one of Tristan’s brothers. Above everything else, she didn’t want to return home weeping yet again. If events would just stop spinning for a few moments, she might have half a chance of getting her bearings.
“Hanley,” she said, leaning out of the window again, “please take me to see Lucinda Barrett.”
The driver didn’t even look perturbed that they’d now set out for Hawthorne House twice and detoured halfway across Mayfair both times. “Yes, my lady.”
She would have trusted Evelyn, as well, except that Evelyn always insisted on believing the best about everyone, which would have been little help at this point. Lucinda was nearly as skeptical as she was, and at times more devious. That was exactly the sort of friend she needed right now.
“Lady Georgiana!” Madison, the Barretts’ butler, exclaimed as he opened the door. “Is something amiss?”
Georgiana wiped at her damp face. “No, no, Madison. I’m fine. Is Lucinda in?”
“I’ll inquire, my lady, if you’ll wait in the morning room.”
He showed her in, then vanished. Too agitated to sit, she paced from one window to the other, twisting her hands. This was too much. This entire day was just too much.
“Georgie? What’s going on?” Lucinda swept into the room, dressed in her afternoon best.
“I’m sorry,” she said, tears obscuring her vision again. She tried not to blink, but that only made it worse. “I didn’t realize you were going out. I’ll leave.”
Lucinda intercepted her and guided her back to the couch. “Of course you won’t. Madison, have someone bring us some tea, if you please.”
“Yes, miss.”
“I don’t know why I’m crying,” Georgiana said, forcing a smile and swiping at her tears again. “I’m just very frustrated, I suppose.”
“Tell me everything,” Lucinda said, stripping off her gloves and dropping them onto the end table. The butler reappeared, a footman bearing a tea tray following, and she motioned for them to set down the tea and leave. “And Madison, if Lord Mallory should come calling this afternoon, please inform him that I am regrettably indisposed.”
“Yes, Miss Lucinda.”
“Mallory?” Georgiana broke in as the door closed, leaving them in private. “I thought you’d told him you weren’t interested.”
“I have, several times, but he lets me drive his horses.” Lucinda reached over and took Georgiana’s hand. “Now, what’s happened?”
