Chapter Thirteen
Teddy’s desire forGeorgina still blazed red hot, a glowing blade in the heart of a fire. But equally compelling was the echo of her brother’s stern admonition to leave his sister alone reverberating in his head. He’d entered the drawing room that evening seeking answers, and instead wound up with even more questions.
“What did your brother think about us?” he demanded, voice gruff.
Georgina stared at him, chest heaving with the force of her breaths. “I have no idea what you mean.”
But she did understand. Drake had not approved of him, as far as she went—and Teddy could see the truth in her stunned expression.
What game was this? What possible motive could she have for withholding this piece of the puzzle?
Unless…He turned away from her, scrubbing his hands over his face. Unless she didn’t want him to know what sort of man he truly was. How he’d betrayed her.
“Teddy, are you all right? I’m…sorry. I never meant…”
He glanced over his shoulder at her.Shewas sorry? What in hell for? For tempting him beyond measure without even trying? Formarrying him and then discarding him when he no longer promised to be thebeau idéalaristocrat?
Or had she made up her mind to rid herself of him long before he returned, as she’d claimed? What had he done to her?
Get a hold of yourself, boy. You’re no weakling, no irregular begging for scraps. You’re to be the Earl of Ainsworth. Show no chink. Shame yourself and you shame me.
His father’s voice. This time, he had no doubt.
“Not now,” he gritted out.
Why, when he’d striven for months for any scrap of memory would these infernal voices choose now not to leave him be?
But wasn’t that the whole point of this endeavor with Georgina? To regain his memories, and his life?
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, clearly bemused.
He blanked his expression and turned to face her. “Darling,” he said, in an impressively normal voice. “I’d say that was an entirely successful venture. In the last sixty seconds, I’ve had no fewer than two distinct memories. Not exactly pleasant ones, mind you.”
She gaped at him. “You have?”
He nodded slowly.
“Unpleasant but successful, you say? And that’s a good thing?” she asked, clearly dubious.
He sent her a bland smile. “All thanks to you.”
“I’m glad.” She attempted to return his smile, but her expression was far from certain. “What…er…did you recall?”
He tunneled his fingers through his hair, then recalled the brandy. He swooped it up between his fingers and took a healthy swallow as his legs carried him several paces away from her. It was either that or take her in his arms again.
She hadn’t moved from her stance before the hearth. In the golden light from the grate, she resembled nothing short of a goddess—or an angel.
“It was more like words, spoken, in my head. I think I heard yourbrother. I definitely heard my father.”
Her eyes widened a fraction. “What did they say?”
He blinked, realizing he didn’t want to tell her. Neither the part about her brother implying he was some sort of skirt chaser, nor the part where his father warned him off of any show of weakness.
He tilted his head back and downed the rest of the cognac. “All gibberish, really. Shall we? Danvers will certainly be looking for me. Wouldn’t want him to become concerned.”
Two days later,Georgina paced her receiving room. For perhaps the first time in her life, she was suffering a standstill of her writing. She’d written even as a young girl, poetry at first—terrible poetry. Then, short stories involving her and her brother. Then, stories involving Teddy and her brother—and her. Well, mostly Teddy and her. Then, novels—featuring Teddy and her.
She had scores of ideas scratched into her notebooks. Some she had turned into full-fledged novels, some she had not yet worked out.
