Deuces, I was the Duke of Marlow! It wasmyhouse.
My rules.
I would live my life as usual, and Georgiana would simply have to adjust.
ChapterTen
Georgiana
The carriage ride across London went by in a flash with Maggie at my side.
Half of my mind heard every word she said, enough for me to nod my head where appropriate, but the other half was still lost in the whirlwind of the past twenty minutes.
Peter was gone—the apartment emptied again—and I was in London alone with the duke and his family. This turn of events would either work brilliantly in my favor or ruin me all over again.
Gabriel seemed as pleased as Maggie to have my company. “Brilliant!” he’d said, when Maggie had explained the whole of it.
Marlow, however, had sat silent and still since we’d left. Maggie’s insistence that I stay at Ashburn Abbey had made refusing her offer seem rude, and in truth, the duke and I both needed to see this arrangement through.
He’d obviously felt the same. He wanted his ring back enough to comply.
I wondered if he was angry with this turn of events, but his expression gave nothing away, not the slightest hint of annoyance or care. It was maddening how he could keep his features so relaxed and still. Those few glimpses I’d caught whenhe actually let down his guard were the most interesting of all, like peering into a hidden passageway. I wished he’d tell me how he felt right now.
Perhaps the truth was, regardless of how well our first outing had gone, regardless of how I’d come to his aid, he truly did not care about me—not my reputation nor my well-being—at all. Perhaps I was like a fly buzzing in and out of his orbit, of little more importance than the dirt beneath his boots.
In that case, I’d take his generosity while I could, and I’d stretch it like dough until we broke apart. I had his time, his friendship, and now his home, and I would enjoy every bit of all of them. I had every right, seeing as how his ring was still in my possession, and we had made a rather fair deal over the matter.
Still, I worried for Peter. Should I have left with him? He had Amelia, but if something was wrong with her or the baby, who did Peter have to take care ofhim?
I would write this evening to Amelia. Jane and I could leave at any time. It would not be the safest or smartest idea to travel alone with my maid, but I had enough money with me to take the mail coach, and we’d endure the journey. This opportunity with the duke was my only chance to regain life in Society. I could not give it up unless things were truly dire at home. And for that, I would simply have to trust Amelia to tell me the truth.
She was not the sort to ever ask for help for herself, but for Peter? She would tell me if he needed me.
The carriage slowed, and I looked out my window as we approached. A stately rectangular house of stone stood grandand looming in the clouded darkness of night, lit by lanterns, and framed by gardens and greenery.
It looked like a painting.
The carriage rolled to a stop. A young, stalwart footman opened the carriage door and stepped back as we descended.
I’d visited many grand houses beyond my own, Sir Ronald’s Lakeshire Park among them. But this felt different. This view made my heart speed up.
The rolled gravel crunched beneath my slippers. The duke led us to the tall, heavy front door, propped open by another servant, and Maggie and Gabriel walked inside with as much ease as though they, like him, were coming home.
I hesitated in the doorway, looking over my shoulder at the retreating carriage and horses, with no alternative but to step inside.
I took one step on the polished, checkered marble floor that stretched out in the open entry, and looked up.
The sight took my breath.
Gold-trimmed walls. Exotic plants heavy with large leaves pushed up against corners. Colorful porcelain vases held full, fragrant flowers on every table, Grecian busts stood atop pillars on the far wall with cream carpets rolled out to greet them, and ornate plaster molding crowned a high ceiling, rising two floors with a sparkling chandelier at the center.
I’d never seen anything like it. And this was hishome.
“Beautiful, is it not?” Maggie called back my attention from several paces ahead.
I blinked out of my trance, hurrying toward her as the men shrugged out of their coats and handed them to thefootman. “Yes,” I breathed. Beautiful did not seem quite strong enough a word.
The duke glanced over his shoulder at me, but I could not read him. I knew he lived well, but it was still strange equatinghimwiththis.
