Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Despair froze Andrew’s heart, and disgust clawed at his stomach. Georgiana couldn’t–wouldn’t–break free of her toxic family. She clung to comfort and her work. She no longer wanted him, and she didn’t need him.
Anger drove him in a wild frenzy away from Mountview, down pitted country lanes until he reached the Brighton Road where he turned away from the Sussex coast and north toward Cambridge.
Twenty miles of blind rage and bone-rattling speed later, he slowed his chaise.
The road led to Cambridge, but it passed through London.
London. The road aimed directly at London. The red fog that choked his mind began to clear, and an idea crystallized in its place. She may not want him, but she wanted her work. Very well, Lady Georgiana, I will give it to you.
She told him to send her notes back when he got to Cambridge.
She didn’t specify the form. Andrew resolved to give it to her as a printed book.
Why not? He was a partner in the enterprise.
It was his work too. Besides, he had burned his bridges with Selby and Cambridge.
It may be all I have to show for my work.
The idea steadied him. He’d publish the book on his own, and they’d be done. He drove on to London in light of the full moon. By the next morning, Andrew had put up at the Pulteney Hotel, taken a suite of rooms, sent for Harley, and begun to search out printers.
Two weeks and seventeen rejections later, he found himself in the hotel dining room glowering at Jamie Heyworth over dinner, a black mood wrapped around him like a cloak.
“You say you’ve been in town for over a week? You might have called.” Jamie’s affront looked sincere, but it didn’t hinder his appetite. He reached for another chop at Andrew’s expense.
Andrew’s glower deepened. Jamie did Glenaire’s bidding again.
Damn Richard Hayden. Even when Andrew turned on a whim to make an unplanned journey to London, Glenaire managed to know about it.
Every innkeeper in England must be in his employ.
Andrew may as well accept that he would never free himself of Glenaire’s interference and stop blaming Jamie.
“You would have welcomed a visitor?” he ground out grudgingly.
“My rooms aren’t much, but I’d have been happy to welcome you. Of course, with pockets to let, I’m not much of a host. Perhaps you knew that.” Jamie’s charm hid a storehouse of insecurities. A deadbeat father and newly acquired bankrupt estate were heavy burdens.
Andrew tried to make amends. “I don’t care a fig for the state of your rooms. I’m just preoccupied. Came to town on business, not to socialize. Sorry to neglect old friends.”
“Can’t blame you, though. The damnable Haydens keep me tied up in their affairs.” Jamie looked shamefaced. “I can’t blame you if you’re angry.”
“What does Richard want this time?”
“Naught, I swear it. At least naught that he’ll tell me.
I think sometimes he asks me things so he has an excuse to give me money, not because he needs my help.
Saw him yesterday. He mentioned; he thought you were in town.
Didn’t ask for anything. Knew I’d track you down, though.
I can’t afford to lose old friends. New ones are all puppies who don’t know what’s up or understand what it was like out there. ”
That much was true. Waterloo and what passed before marked everyone who fought there. Andrew’s scars were visible; Jamie’s were no less real. The young bucks of London had no idea.
“Andrew! Are you woolgathering or wishing me to perdition?” Jamie didn’t sound offended. He rarely did.
“Woolgathering. I warned you I was preoccupied.”
“How is your business faring?”
“Doesn’t Richard know?”
“Give it over, Andrew. He never said why you’re here, if he knows.”
“He doesn’t.” He knew this probably was not true.
Andrew took fresh horses at the Frog and Porter and turned directly to London.
Somehow, Glenaire knew that much. Jamie’s comments made it clear.
Glenaire probably had him followed while he searched out every publisher and printer he could locate. He probably knew everything.
“It hasn’t gone well–my business, I mean.”
“Sorry to hear it.” Jamie helped himself to more capon. “You look dog-tired.”
Andrew grimaced. “Beyond tired,” he said. “I’ve been searching for a printer for over a week. Most won’t touch the work. Not enough popular appeal.”
“Scholarly stuff?”
Andrew didn’t dissemble well either. Glenaire probably knew in any case or would soon. “It isn’t my work, at least not entirely. It’s Lady Georgiana’s.”
“Odd’s blood! No wonder Richard has been in a bother. Lady Georgie’s scraps and bits are to be made into a book?”
“Most of the major printers won’t have it. They say it’s too esoteric. That is when they’re being kind. When gentlemen want translations, they look for books by University scholars.”
“Are they right?” Jamie didn’t read enough to have an opinion.
“To a point. This work is unusual. I suggested that ladies might be interested. One said ‘novels’ were the thing. ‘Ladies read Byron, but that’s for his good looks and reputation, not his poems,’ one said. Damned insulting.”
“How many did you see?”
“Too many. One of them demanded to know the lady’s name. He said ‘scandal sells.’ That about did it for me.”
“Pity. Lady Georgie worked hard on this for a long time.”
“You don’t know the half.”
“Still, it’s not like you to give up.”
“I’m not giving up. I found one more printer this morning that may do. I’ve an appointment tomorrow.”
He wanted to be done with the whole ordeal and go home, but pride drove him to continue.
He wouldn’t let fear that the Haydens might block the printing force him to give up.
He knew that the work deserved to be printed.
He owed Georgiana that much. He owed himself that much.
Tomorrow he would see Mr. Bailey, without question Andrew’s best hope.
“If you don’t want that fine sweet cake, I do.” Jamie grinned at him slyly and snatched the cake. “Told you, Andrew, months ago, what you needed was a woman.”
You have no idea how right you were. That thought made Andrew too morose to answer. He would see Bailey tomorrow, and his obligations as a partner would be done. His craving for her might never be done.
Jamie’s face took on a momentary look of sheer bliss when he devoured the cake, but something about Andrew must have caught his eye. His face tensed into touching anxiety. No matter how difficult his life, Jamie did care about his friends.
Andrew spoke before Jamie embarrassed them both with it.
“Dinner again would be good, but somewhere other than this place. In fact, I have been given access to a box at the theater. Let’s make use of it.” It was a lie but an easily maintained one. Jamie couldn’t even afford a floor seat; a night at the theater would do them both good.
* * *
Georgiana bent again to start the fire, her hands hampered by gloves.
When it sparked to life, she felt her mouth spread in a wide smile.
Small victories filled her with pride. This particular skill had taken Mrs. Potter an hour to teach her.
She returned to her chair and poured a cup of steaming tea for the old woman and another for herself.
“Are you quite certain, my dear?” Edwina Potter’s eyes darted with uncertainty. They were sitting in one of the upper rooms of Helsington, the only heated one.
“Quite. Even if I changed my mind, I don’t believe there is any going back.
Quarterly allowances were due a week ago.
His Grace withheld funds. He knew I couldn’t pay the staff.
He sent them all their notices instead. He assumed I would return to Mountview with Chambers and the upper servants.
They’ll be absorbed into the Hayden estates. ”
“Eunice?”
“Is gone, praise God.” The memory of poor Eunice torn between relief to be gone from her household and fear for the future brought a smile to her lips.
Ridding herself of her forced companion was her first order of business when she returned to Cambridge, the first act of her newly emancipated life.
“I found her a place with my great-aunt’s cousin in Wales.
They will be good for each other, but I can’t imagine just how the world will absorb the mountain of needlework they will leave behind.
” She sighed. “The rest progresses more slowly than I like. I’m just grateful that tradesmen here are willing to extend credit for fuel and food. ”
“Well, of course, they are! The Duke of Sudbury’s daughter is a good credit risk if anyone is.”
“More fools, they.” A momentary anxiety so strong she feared her companion could see it wracked her body.
“I’ll manage. I’m sure of it. In any case, it is too late to go back.
The estate agent already has prospects for Helsington.
He found a small house in town—a kitchen below and two rooms above.
It is at the end of Sheep Street and has a tiny garden, room enough for a rose bush or two.
If I get a good price for this property, I think it’ll do nicely.
The estate agent will have the keys to show the house on Monday. ”
Mrs. Potter made an unladylike sound. “Really, Georgiana. You have no idea.”
Georgiana forced a smile. “I’m beginning to. If the rest of the world manages, so will I, and I have you to turn to when my ignorance confounds me.” It wouldn’t do to show her fear. She needed Mrs. Potter’s encouragement to continue.
“I can’t say as I’m sorry you stood up to that family of yours. You’re intelligent and strong but alone, dear! I don’t wish to discourage you, but you must remember that I have a grandson to look in on me.”
“I have friends,” she said firmly.
“I won’t live forever.”