“In that case, she would be responsible enough to handle money of her own. Set aside a third of these funds to be under her sole control. Name my solicitor as executor. I trust him. And add one of my unentailed estates.” He thought for a moment, took a sip of brandy to enjoy the flummoxed look on the earl’s face. “Ah. I have it. There is a lovely place in the Cotswolds. Painswick Park. Welsh blacks will look lovely against those hills.”
This time the Earl just blinked.
“These points are non-negotiable. I would also need ironclad trusts for my wards and any children, of course.”
“Are you saying we cannot trustyou?”
Grey used the trick of raising one eyebrow. He vaguely wished he had a quizzing glass for more impact. “I’d think you would be glad to find a husband for your daughter who seeks to protect her interests.”
There was a nervous clearing of the throat and another wave of the hand. “Quite. Quite.” Rising to his feet, the Earl held out a hand. “Again. Welcome to the family.”
Grey took that hand. “Only if she says yes.”
That got him a laugh. “Of course she’ll say yes. What girl wouldn’t?”
Which told Grey everything he needed to know about how well the Earl knew his daughter. It did not improve his own self-respect to know that just yesterday he’d known just as much. Or as little. And that even so, he would make sure she said her vows.
Georgie’s motherhad directed her to the East Salon so the sun could cast a warm light on her, evidently a benefit in proposals. Charlie and Eddie had been sent off to the modiste’s to make certain they would not interfere, and her father had returned home just in time to closet himself with his prospective son-in-law. For Georgie’s part she sat quite properly, back straight, feet on the floor, perfectly aligned on the lemon-yellow settee listening to theclack clackof Preston’s knitting needles.
“He’s been in there quite a while,” the maid offered.
Georgie refused to answer.
“Knowing your father, the brandy bottle’s been broken out and all.”
Silence. Georgie was too busy keeping the bile from rising in her throat from imagining what exactly her father and Grey were discussing. How they would decide to ‘dispense’ with her.
Then Georgie heard footsteps in the corridor. Heavy, measured ones, with a very slight limp, the kind heard by a soldier on parade. Georgie was disgusted when her body recognized his tread before the rest of her and began to react in now-predictable ways. Her heart, her palms, her breasts. She felt as if her body were straightening and preening itself in preparation for showing off completely without her permission. And yet she found herself smoothing out the skirt of her blue-and-white striped muslin morning dress, which was a lady’s way of drying her sweaty palms. Again. She seemed to do that a lot around him.
“And don’t ever tell me again that he’s...what, compelling?” Preston gave a scornful sniff. “What a paltry word.”
It was, Georgie had to admit. But if she acknowledged how much he affected her, she wouldn’t be able to hold onto what was left of her sanity, much less her autonomy. And she had a strong suspicion she was going to need every bit of both.
If only she could see Grandmama before having to face Greyville. Maybe Grandmama would give her sanctuary like a medieval church. Maybe she could spirit Georgie out of the country. The Continent was open. America. South America. The Antipodes.
Except exile wasn’t what she wanted either. She just didn’t wantthis.Especially with a man she suspected could compel her right past the point of self-respect.
He was still only halfway down the hall when she got to her feet. She wasn’t about to face him from a subordinate position. Preston was gathering up her knitting, since there was no question Grey would ask for a few minutes alone. Georgie was once again wiping her hands on the sides of her skirts. She so hated this feeling of uncertainty. Of anticipation. Of pending disaster.
And then he was in the doorway, and she couldn’t breathe.It could be worse indeed. He was so solid, socompelling, dash it. And he was looking at her as if she were a puzzle to be solved.
Oh, excellent.
“My lord?”
He shook his head. “You know better. Is there actually any privacy in that back garden? We need to talk.”
She looked about the room as if he wasn’t seeing it.
“Where the staff isn’t listening in,” he clarified.
That kicked her heart rate up another notch.
“I’m leavin’,” Preston assured him as she dipped a curtsy and stalked by him with a quick assessing look that didn’t bestow much approval. “Can’t speak for anybody else. They all feel a bit protective.”
“Yes,” Greyville said with a faint smile. “I know. Somewhere private, Lady Georgie?”
“I assume it’s solely a matter of not wanting to be overheard, not wanting to ravish me in the bushes.”
