Teddy emitted a low curse. “Iknewit. In other words, your father found another way to fund his habit. Of all the underhanded, unscrupulous—”
“There’s more.”
He released her, crossed his arms over his chest, schooled his features. Here was where he came in, no doubt. “Go on.”
“I went to speak with Mealy, directly. To tell him I could never marry him. And that’s when he played his ace. He revealed that he knew my secret and implied, if I did not marry him, he would tell it to the world.”
Cold seeped into him. And here he’d thought she was protecting him. “I begin to comprehend.”
She slanted him a sharp glance. “What do you comprehend?”
“You’re concerned about destroying your career. Understandable. You’ve worked hard. You don’t want to see your success derailed.”
Her brows slammed together in obvious annoyance, and she fisted her hands on her hips.
He nearly grinned at the sight of her, attempting to chastise him in her ill-fitting suit. “You know nothing, Teddy Arlington. That is not the secret which concerns me.”
“Enlighten me.”
Spreading her arms, she exclaimed, “You. Us. Living as man and wife when we were not.”
“Oh, is that it?” Now that he could breathe again, he grinned at her. “I do not foresee a problem.”
“Is that it? You foresee no problem? Teddy, you clearly fail to see the possible ramifications. Your name, your title, dragged through the muck. Not to mention you would probably feel coerced into marriage to me, which, of course, would also mean”—her expression turned sullen—“you could not marry Lady Catherine.”
For the love of God, this again. He wanted to laugh. She really was selfless, his delectable, misguided wife. “Georgina.”
She all but glared at him. “Yes?”
Tenderness, poignant to the point of pain, filled his chest. “Are youjealousat the thought of me marrying another?”
Her brows furrowed. “No.”
He waited.
“Yes,” she blurted, hands fisting. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“As a matter of fact, it is.”
The tiny smile playing at her lush mouth told him he’d mollified her.
“Good. Now listen, very carefully.”
“Very well.”
He took each of her delicate hands in his, and met her eyes. “Are you listening?”
Though she clearly fought the impulse, her smile broadened. “Yes.”
“Forget Catherine,” he said. “We ended things before I sailed for Spain—a mutually agreed upon parting of the ways.” For the most part. He’d had to direct her to the appropriate conclusion, but she’d got there. He would be forever grateful to her alternate suitor, Prince Rolfe.
“I see.”
“Now, tell me why you called on Mrs. Dove-Lyon, again.”
“After I…er…told my parents I would marry Mr. Mealy—”
“You did what?” he erupted.
