Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“You refer to the rumor attesting to Lady Catherine and Jonathan Arlington having commenced a romantic entanglement?”
“Indeed.”
Georgina frowned as puzzle pieces started snapping together. “Are you saying Teddy’s—that is, Lord Arlington’s cousin, Jonathan—stands to inherit the title in the event…” She could not bring herself to speak the unthinkable.
Her mother suffered no such constraints. “If Lord Theodore Arlington passes, Jonathan is next in line for the title.”
“You think Lady Catherine would marry him in order to become the next Countess of Ainsworth?”
“Of course she would. Especially after her fall from grace.”
That caught Georgina’s attention. “Fall?”
“Dear, where have you been? Sometimes, I fear you are so caught up in crafting your novels, you are missing out on real life.” She looked out the small-paned window, her face a study in regret. “Likely, thanks to your father’s indulgence. But, I suspect that will no longer be the case.”
His indulgence? As in allowing her the freedom to pursue her author career so long as she funded his gambling ventures? He would hardly be able to stop her now, not without threatening to expose her, and she doubted either of her parents would do such a thing. They did love her, after all.
“Enough about me, what of Lady Catherine’s so-called fall?”
“Well, of course the entire haute monde expected her to marry Lord Arlington. Then he went off to war.”
“What of it? She came of prime marriageable age only last season.”
“Yes, well, that still marks her as having had one unsuccessful jaunt on the Marriage Mart, especially as, unbeknownst to most everyone prior to Lord Arlington’s joining the war effort, her father approved the courtship of that Hessian prince, what was his name? Rolphe. Yes, that’s it.”
“Prince Rolphe? The one who purchased that mammoth mansion on Portman Square? But he married that Italian heiress last April at the height of the Season.”
“So he did. He wasn’t in line to inherit the kingdom, of course, but he is a prince, nonetheless.
Word of his courtship of Lady Catherine last Season, and their impending betrothal, had only just become common knowledge when he went off and eloped.
Left the snooty Lady Catherine in his dust. I expect she’s now looking to recoup her losses by reclaiming the Ainsworth title, now that her crown as the reigning diamond is tarnished. ”
No, everything in Georgina railed. She can’t have him. He’s mine.
She had not anticipated the fierce vein of possessiveness that tore through her at the thought of Teddy marrying Lady Catherine. Even now, tiny tremors vibrated through her. Dear Heaven. What a fine fettle she’d gotten herself into.
“Georgina, what is wrong? Your cheeks are blazing scarlet. Have you a fever?” She stripped off a glove and pressed the back of her hand to Georgina’s brow.
“I’m fine. Never better. It’s a bit warm in the cab though, isn’t it?”
Her mother sat back, her eyes brimming with sympathy. “I should have had a care, telling you of your brother’s mate’s dire straits. Only, darling, you never really hoped that the two of you might form an attachment of that sort, did you?”
“I have no notion what you mean,” Georgina said in a breathless rush.
“Of course not,” her mother murmured in a gentle tone that made Georgina want to grab up one of the small pillows in arm’s reach and hurl it across the aisle.
“You must not concern yourself with Lord Arlington’s sad state.
Doubtless, he is not even aware of the fate that has befallen him as a result of whatever injury he sustained in the war.
Meanwhile, you will marry, darling, sooner than later, and, while marriage may not live up to the fairytales you portray in your beautiful books, you will be content. You will see.”
Georgina’s eyes burned at the kindness inherent in her mother’s words.
She blinked her tears away and did not bother to tell her dear Mama how wrong she was.
She would not marry sooner than later anyone who was not Lord Teddy Arlington.
And though she tried to tell herself not to hope in fairy tales, she feared she was long past the ability to comply with her own demand.
She loved Teddy. Mayhap, once he learned the truth, not only about who Georgina was or wasn’t to him, but about Lady Catherine, he would consider her worthy to be a real wife to him.
Teddy slumped on one elbow over Georgina’s pretty painted desk, his head propped in his hand and picked up the last of Georgina’s notebooks.
After recalling in stunning detail his father’s dislike for tender sentiment, which he viewed as laughable at best, and repulsive at worst thanks to its inherent stink of weakness, Teddy had not had any additional breakthroughs.
He had skimmed through Georgina’s outlines, had even read entire scenes.
His wife was an excellent authoress, with a knack for setting words to paper to paint vivid scenes and elicit strong emotion. More than once, he’d laughed aloud at her wit. He did still wonder at the scenes that so resembled their stories.
But no breakthroughs had occurred.
He dropped his forehead on the blotter and batted back a surge of weariness and dread. Would he forever live in this place of not knowing?
With a groan, he straightened and opened the last notebook in the stack.
He saw at once this one was different. Fanning the pages, he saw a series of dated notations, more in the line of a personal diary, cataloguing her thoughts and observations.
A frisson of excitement went through him.
He opened the notebook and chose a page, arbitrarily. Two names jumped out at him in an instant—his and Drake’s.
He had only the vaguest impression of the man. Snippets of conversations they’d shared. Glimpses of a smiling man with kind, sometimes mocking eyes.
Drake has invited me along on his and Teddy’s final hoorah prior to their shipping out in several days’ time. I feared he meant to leave me behind, but he caved to my hints.
Teddy wondered at that. Drake had invited her. Shouldn’t Teddy have? He read on.
It was with the most bitter heart I learned of Lady Catherine’s inclusion in the outing, although why I should be surprised. She is, after all, Teddy’s intended.
The hair on the back of Ted’s nape lifted as if he had walked over someone’s grave. Teddy’s intended?
It must have been a slip of the hand. A misprint. And yet…Why did he suddenly have the sense he should not read another word? He swallowed, as nausea rose up in him.
Further reading didn’t reveal more than the menu Georgina had settled on for the day. Deviled ham with pickles, fresh strawberries, butter biscuits, fresh bread and butter—of course.
At once, he could see it. Could see the plate of food—which she’d prepared for him—plain as day. He closed his eyes. A memory crashed over him, as tangible as a wave on the ocean.
“I’ll write to you every day. You and Drake,” Georgina assured him, breathless and intent, calming his own frayed nerves as a result of his and his father’s argument that morning.
“What would you know of war, and leading others?” His father had demanded of him. “Sell that commission, boy. You’ll only get yourself and your friend killed, mark my words. You’re a future earl, no general.”
“Really, pet, even knowing I’m the reason your beloved brother opted to join?”
Slapping his shoulder, Drake spoke up in vehement denial. “Don’t listen to him, George. I always meant to do my duty. The blackguard talked me out of it every time I made up my mind to go, and then thought to sneak off without me.”
He skipped several pages ahead. Read of Georgina’s loneliness, how bereft she felt absent both Drake and himself, and of how many letters she’d written to both of them.
I confessed my love to Teddy. Poured out my heart, then tossed the letter in the grate. Too late I realized I could’ve used them in A Daring Design, my current novel whereby Lady Celine admits her feelings to Lord Terrence.
Despite his confusion, his sense that something was amiss, he chuckled aloud and flipped several more pages.
My worst fears have been realized. The letter arrived today informing us Drake has been declared dead.
They say he died a hero. I shall never recover.
Now I live in terror that the same fate will befall my beloved Teddy.
I pray that he shall return to England soon, as he promised, to keep me from succumbing to my misery.
I cannot even share my grief with my parents, who seem more lost than even I am.
Drake.
Good God. He remembered.