“That can wait,” he huffed. “Have a carriage prepared double quick!”
Georgia could not find Amelia in her rooms. She searched, going from room to room, calling out to her. Lord Swinthorpe’s words had been a hammerblow. She tried to tell herself that she should expect nothing less. The marriage had been one born of convenience. It did not mean that Keaton still felt that way, just because he had once.
She wanted to go back to Keaton, to make it up to him, but her priority now was Amelia. Finally, on the top floor of the house, in a dusty room with furniture under sheets, she found Amelia, hiding behind a covered sideboard. The younger woman dashed to Georgia.
“Thank goodness! I was so scared. I didn't even know if I could go to the servants. My father was just here, and so was Lord Emsworth. They demanded that I be handed over to them. Rutherford refused to admit them to the house, though. They said they would be back with the Bow Street Runners, that they believed I was being held here against my will!”
Georgia hugged the younger woman tightly.
“Neither I nor Keaton will allow that to happen, Amelia,” Georgia avowed.
“But I am under the age of one-and-twenty. I do not think that either of you could stop my father from taking me home with him, could you?”
“Of course. When the authorities see that it is against your will. They cannot compel you if you do not want to go, Amelia. Trust me.”
Amelia smiled tearfully but with a shadow of confidence. She nodded.
“I do. I trust you, but I do not know the Duke, so I cannot say the same for him. It seems that he is somewhat… changeable in his moods. I will trust him if I know that you do.”
Georgia did not want to hesitate in her answer. Thoughts whirled through her head. The intimacies she had shared with Keaton. The revelations they had discovered together. The trust he showed in her, to be his eyes. But one word at Ranelagh had destroyed Georgia's foundations. And a revelation of something Keaton had said in the past had shattered them again. Amelia needed Georgia to reassure her, to tell her that of course Keaton was a man to be trusted. But Georgia could not say that.
How quickly my own trust evaporates. Do I trust him? Am I just wanting to trust him because it is preferable to the life I will have without him? Does he trust me? It seems that for the longest time that we have known each other, he has been suspicious of me and my motives.
“In truth, Amelia, he is my husband, but for both of us, that was simply a title. A convenience. I hope, and I sincerely want for it to be a true marriage, but… I cannot swear on it. I do not know everything about him yet. I do not know if he trusts me. All I have is… hope.”
Speaking those words aloud cemented the feeling within her, repaired those broken foundations, and left Georgia feeling that she was facing the tribulations ahead on firm ground.
“Hope is all anyone can ask for, but you are wrong about one thing...” Lord Swinthorpe stood in the doorway.
Amelia gasped audibly, and Georgia whirled. She had closed the door.
Did I, though? Or did I leave it open, so excited was I to find Amelia?
“And what is that, Lord Swinthorpe?” Georgia asked, raising her chin and standing in front of Amelia protectively.
Swinthorpe loomed in the doorway, larger than both of them, though a pale shadow next to his nephew. He stepped inside,and suddenly it was as though he shrank. He spread his hands as though to show he meant no harm. The smile on his face was honest and open, crinkling his eyes in a grandfatherly way. A kind way.
“A woman under the age of one-and-twenty is the ward of her legal guardian. In this case, her parents. Lord Silverton could demand that she be returned to him and could press suit against Westvale if he refuses. He could accuse Keaton of kidnapping. I believe he will go that far. The scandal would be terrible, not to mention the possible criminal repercussions. How do you think a blind man would fare in Newgate, Your Grace?”
A cold sensation slid down Georgia's throat as though she had swallowed ice. She looked at Amelia, who was staring into space with a look of horror.
“Uncle Benjamin cannot compel Amelia to marry,” Georgia pressed bravely.
Swinthorpe arched an eyebrow. “Can he not? How did you come to be in this house, again, Your Grace? Because of the compulsion he was imposing on you. And you are over one-and-twenty. It is not fair, and it is not just, but it is the way of things in England.”
“I will run away. Far away!” Amelia blurted loudly, “I will not be the ruin of Westvale or you. Not after all you have shown me is kindness.”
“If you do, then you will not be alone. I will be alongside you,” Georgia assured her.
“And Westvale will still be a house of kidnappers,” Swinthorpe interjected, casually tearing the plan to pieces, “but running away is the best plan, as far as I can see.”
Georgia saw his reasoning. If it was known that Amelia had run away from her rightful guardians in the company of her older Duchess cousin, it would be assumed that Georgia was the instigator.
“She cannot go alone!” Georgia snapped, irrespective, angry at the dead ends being presented.
“I am not proposing that she does. You come with her, by all means. But not running into the hills aimlessly. You will both come to Swinthorpe. Then it can be framed as a visit to family, not an escape or an abduction. When Silverton and that rogue, Emsworth, come back with the Runners, Rutherford will simply tell them that the birds have flown. A visit to the country to get out of town for a while. And no, he doesn't know when they will be back. A butler is not privy to such information. I cannot see a chink in that armor, can you?”
Georgia laughed. The relief that swept through her was palpable. Amelia grinned, eyes shining. She giggled too.
