Heart in her throat, she reached the doors opening to the large, bright chamber, and jammed to a halt once she crossed the threshold. It took only a moment to spot Teddy, still with the unfortunate beard—she really would need to do something about that, soon—hovering over her writing desk.
More than an escritoire, and not quite an office piece the likes of which men such as her father presided over in their stuffy dens, she’d dreamed up the design herself. It formed an L-shape as, in addition to its pretty painted surface, scroll-work legs, and blush trim, it included an attached, locking compartment where she kept all of her notebooks and drafts safely stored.
She’d situated her workspace here, on the second floor on the back wall of the airy, sun-filled receiving room of her villa. The chamber, with its tall, unencumbered windows and high ceilings was her favorite space, perhaps in the entire world. Here she could write to her heart’s content without fear of interruption or snooping, which her mother was wont to do. From her vantage point against the wall she enjoyed a bird’s eye view of the pebbled beach and vast ocean, with its waxing and waning tides, the crowds that ventured along the shore, the festive bathing machines transporting brave souls to submerge their bodies in the icy water.
She eyed Teddy, standing over the locked compartment, hands fisted on his hips, then forced a pleasant tone. “Good morning, my lord. May I help you?”
The hapless maid darted from the chamber, leaving Georgina towonder if she would put in her notice after this morning’s debacle.
Teddy turned his supercilious gaze on her. “You certainly may. Furnish the key for this”—he snapped his fingers, indicating the compartment—“cabinet, I suppose—at once.”
That she would not do. She sent him a pleasant smile and ventured further into the room. “Why?”
Even from a distance, she saw his nostrils flare as if he could not believe her audacity. “Because I am your husband and I demand it?”
Striving for patience, she twined her fingers before her and inched closer. “My lord, Teddy, may I ask what it is you seek? Perhaps I can locate it for you and we can move past this unpleasantness.”
The sound of a man, clearing his throat, drew both their attentions to the doorway where, Mr. Danvers, large and imposing in his black butler’s garb, now stood. He called to mind a school headmaster breaking up a classroom brawl.
“Ma’am, may I be of assistance?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Teddy demanded with evident affront. “I am standing right here. I can hear you.”
Danvers’s gaze flicked over Teddy, then returned to Georgina.
“Thank you, Mr. Danvers, I…ah…am fine.”I hope,she added silently. When Danvers showed no sign of leaving, she continued. “You may go. Pray, close the doors behind you, sir.”
Danvers’s dark gaze narrowed and slid to Teddy before he nodded and grasped the door levers to pull the doors shut as he exited.
Behind her, Teddy snorted.
She waited until the double doors gave soft snick before turning to face him. Hoping to head off any disparaging comment about her new butler, however warranted, she spoke quickly, employing a conversational tone. “I did not expect you to arise quite so early, sir.”
“And I did not expect you to sleep so late.”
Touché.
Folding his arms over his chest, he half stalked, half swaggered toward her.
She wondered how she would describe the move in one of her novels. Graceful, yet, somewhat predatory, and rather alluring in an indefinable way.
He stopped an arm’s length from her and she gave herself a mental shake. She must set aside her author’s cap for the moment. She needed to talk Teddy down and to do that, she needed to understand what had set him off.
She cleared her throat. “You seem rather vexed.”
He scrubbed a hand over his fuzzy jaw. “That’s putting it mildly.”
She waited, in hopes he would continue.
He did. “How would you like to take a walk in my boots? I can’t remember who I am. I know only what I’ve been told and what I’ve experienced since arriving home some four weeks ago. I’m told I’m the Viscount of Helmsley, the future Earl of Ainsworth, my father’s only son. But does he or his countess greet me with open arms and a tearful welcome? Indeed, no, they barrage me with questions which I cannot answer, call in a quack who pours a lamentable potion down my throat, accuse me of trying to off myself, and ship me off to a madhouse without so much as a by-your-leave.
“I’m told I’m married, only to be told by my so-called wife that she’s in process of acquiring an annulment for said marriage.”
She ducked her head, her heart aching for the man before her and the pain she read in his beloved eyes. “I’m sorry. You must be suffering greatly. I would do anything to ease your pain.”
“Anything?” he asked softly.
Something in his tone had her glancing up at him. He gazed at her steadily, an unreadable expression on his face. For a timeless moment their gazes held.
