He knew the Duke could be telling the truth.She had refused his hand; she hadn’t written in weeks, and she had walked past him in the entrance.In Cambridge she had wanted him badly enough to invade his house.He had no way to know whether or not she still wanted him or on what terms?
He opened his mouth to deny her refusal, but before he could reply, another voice spoke behind him.
“She doesn’t wish it.”Softer but equally aristocratic, Glenaire’s voice cut in.Andrew turned awkwardly, leaning on his cane.He made no pretense of disbelief.The look he turned on his one-time friend held anguished questions and agonized longing.He found no mercy.Richard Hayden stood with calm dignity in the doorway.
“Andrew, whatever affection she may feel or have felt, she understands that it will notdo.Go.Don’t make this worse for her.”His eyes urged compliance.
“Go now, or I’ll have you thrashed and removed!”the Duke of Sudbury said in a voice constructed of ice shards.“Immediately.”
Andrew’s hand itched to lash out in one great sweep of his ebony walking stick.His common sense told him it would do no good.A dozen footmen were at their command.Lashing out would bring only his injury and her humiliation.
“I have something for her,” he said.
“I’ll see that she gets it.”Richard reached for the parcel.Long years of experience told Andrew it wouldn’t be wise to let go of the manuscript.The Haydens knew little of Georgiana’s skills and her work, and what they did know they despised.He wouldn’t entrust this to them.
Georgiana may notwant him, but she wanted the manuscript.He hugged the portfolio closer.
“No.I don’t think so.I have no wish to complicate her life, Richard.If she is content to stay here, so be it, but I’ll keep this.”
Andrew couldn’t read Glenaire’s face.Both men knew they had decided this once before.
“It’s for the best,” Richard murmured.Andrew nodded.He would leave it for now, but this time he would keep the work they did together.
Andrew turned to go.A vision of wrath confronted him.Georgiana stood just inside the room—her face a mask of rage.
“Have you gentlemen finished arranging my existence, then?”
* * *
“It’s for the best,”Georgiana heard when she slipped into the room.Just as they had before, her brother and Andrew planned to make decisions for her.Rage flooded her veins.
Andrew opened his mouth to speak; she stopped him with her eyes.
“How dare you come here without my consent?”Never mind that I longed for you every day.Fairness be damned!“‘It is for the best?’”she mocked.“You always know what is best for me, don’t you, Andrew?Richard?Did you know that, Your Grace?You needn’t stir yourself or worry about my behavior.These two gentlemen have my life well in hand.They always did.”
“Georgiana, I–” Richard spoke soothingly.Andrew, she noted, was mute.
“Mr.Mallet was just leaving.”His Grace’s cold eyes never left Andrew.
“I’m sure he was.Mr.Mallet always does what is best for me, doesn’t he?”Her eyes dared him to deny it.
“Georgiana, this isn’t the place,” Andrew said.
“If it isn’t the place, Andrew, why did you come here?You asked for me.You spend five minutes with His Grace, and you change your mind.Why?Because it is for the best?Whose best, Andrew?”
He looked about to speak, but her anger urged her on.“In Cambridge you thought marriage was for the best.”She saw her father’s face darken dangerously.“In London you thought the army was for the best—and look what it got you.Now what?I stay at Mountview, and you slink back to Cambridge?Then what?”
She wheeled on Richard.“And you brother?Are you satisfied with your investigations?Have my servants reported my every move?Why did you bring me here?To remember who I am?Lady Georgiana Hayden, child of peerage and power, ornament of aristocracy, ivory icon of superior breeding?”
She faced her father at long last.She didn’t—couldn’t—care about the Duke’s stony face.Not this time.“I am sorry, Father, for this scene you so detest.You and Richard believe you can control my very life–with Mr.Mallet’s collusion, of course.I won’t have it.”
The old man’s brows rose; his eyes blazed, but she sped on before he could speak.“I will have my life the way I wish it.I won’t stay at Mountview one day longer.You can arrange transportation back to my house—the house Aunt Sephronia left me—or I will take the first post in the morning.I should have done it weeks ago.”
Words rushed from her, driven by rage and the remnants of fear.“Yes, I know you pay the bills.You needn’t worry.I will burden you no longer, and neither will I dance to your tune.All I want from you is to be returned to my life.My.Life.”
“As to you, Sir.”She looked fire and sulfur at Andrew.“We agreed that when we completed the work we would talk.Very well, we are talking.Here is what I have to say: I find your services are no longer needed.When I return to Cambridge, I expect to find my notes, my translations, and any contributions you made to my work back at my house.Our partnership is at an end.There is, of course, no question of a relationship of any other kind.”
She turned on her heels, too angry to say more, and swept past him.She didn’t want to see his face, didn’t want to know the pain there.She wanted to pack and be quit of Mountview.
