ChapterSeventeen
Marlow
My habits were changing, and not for the better.
Typically by noon, I had all my affairs in order for the day. Of course, with Parliament in session, I had much more than usual on my plate, but I wasn’t needed for another few days, so my late mornings were forgivable. For now.
We hadn’t played cards as a family inages. Maggie had played the pianoforte while Gabriel and Thomas had opposed Georgiana and me in whist.
It had felt like old times. Like ... a family.
I’d lain in bed last night, candle burning to the quick, lost in thought. I now knew exactly who’d said those terrible things to Georgiana—the women Georgiana had spoken to alone. I’d asked Maggie for their names. I wouldn’t say anything, but I certainly wouldn’t entertain them.
Gads, the way Georgiana had clung to me. How she’d tried to stifle her emotion, her tears. It had taken everything in my power not to lose my head and make promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. I wanted to protect her. Wanted to give hereverythingshe needed to be safe and secure and happy.
The problem? Georgiana was not in my plan.
Which is why I’d tossed and turned, paced until my feet were sore, and finally slept for a precious few hours.
I awoke still unsettled.
I wasn’t sure the plan feltrightanymore.
Because what would my life look like when Georgiana left?
And, the more pressing question, what could I do about it? Never fulfill our bargain, and keep her hidden in the passageways forever?
I fenced to clear my mind, then dressed, then took the stairs down two at a time to the foyer. Time for work.
At the bottom, I rounded the staircase toward my study.
A peal of laughter echoed past me.
Georgiana?My attention turned toward the drawing room at the opposite end of the house.
She laughed again. What the devil was so amusing? I found myself smiling as I turned, following the echoes of her voice, remembering how just last night I’d made her laugh like this. How her face had brightened, her smile reaching the corners of her eyes.
Just a quick word.
I couldn’t stay. But I could see her, wish her a good day, and perhaps she’d get that look in her eye that was half cross, half amused. The space between her perfectly shaped brows would crease, and she’d try to keep from smiling while chiding me for sleeping late.
The doors were open. I heard my mother’s voice too. Maggie’s. And ... someone else.
“... seen a show before?” asked a man’s voice.
My jaw clenched.
“No. Can you believe it? I’d dearly love to,” Georgiana was saying as I entered. I found her on the settee in an airy, soft pink dress, her hair curled and arranged with ribbons atop her head.
Sitting beside Lord Stephen Reynolds.
London’s most notorious rake. The fop was as close as he could possibly get to Georgiana without touching her, and my familyallowedit.
Mother stood from her chair opposite the settee. “Your Grace. We did not know you were at home.”
Ah, but she did. She knew I never joined for calls. She simply hadn’t alerted me. Had she, Reynolds never would have been invited in.
Maggie, at the window, gave me a pointed look—the one that told me I needed to readjust my mood.
