Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
Teddy hadn’t meant for it to happen. In truth, he hadn’t intended for him to learn his deepest, most shameful secret—that he feared his father’s wrath and displeasure above all else.
But his father had come in, taken one look at the room they shared, and not knowing Drake was in the adjoining bedchamber studying, lambasted him for his shambled appearance in lethally soft tones that were sure not to carry through the walls.
How many times have I told you—my heir does not go about like a pauper. You must carry yourself with respect. Shame yourself and you shame me.
Teddy had smoothed one hand over his uncombed hair, then unrolled his shirtsleeves, his cheeks flaming with shame considering the lad who had certainly overheard the criticism.
He eyed his cravat and waistcoat with regret, both of which he’d removed and hung on a wall peg and which he could not hope to reach without passing his father.
In fairness to himself, he’d only just removed his outer garments, having come in from an early morning riding lesson, and he was hardly going about. But he knew better than to argue.
“Sorry, sir. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“No, indeed. I can see that plainly.”
And out loped Drake, clutching what looked to be Teddy’s ivory comb.
His father’s expression was almost comical. His stern countenance morphed in an instant to one of surprised embarrassment. He did not make scenes in view of others.
“Oh, Lord Arlington, I didn’t hear you come in.
How good of you to pay us a visit.” Drake clipped a crisp bow.
“If only you’d arrived earlier to join Ted and me on our riding lesson and show us what’s what—Teddy is always raving over your prowess.
Although the jump your son made today would have made you proud.
Even our instructor applauded him vociferously to the annoyance of all the other students.
” He’d grinned up at the earl who puffed out his chest.
“That’s my Theodore.”
“Oh, I nearly forgot. Your comb I borrowed and forgot to return.” He handed Teddy the article and ducked back out of sight.
Later, he’d made light of the incident, easing Teddy’s discomfort in that effortless way he had.
“At least your father cares enough to notice things—even if they are of the nit-picky sort. Our parents are more concerned with their parties and their friends and their entertainments to remember George and me half the time.”
“George? I didn’t know you had a brother.”
An indulgent grin curved his mouth. “A sister. A perfectly wonderful little sister.”
He’d been serious, which shocked Teddy, and of course, Drake read that in his expression.
“Oh, I know. All the other blokes complain about their sisters. But you’d have to meet her to understand.
She’s ever eager to please. My biggest champion.
And I suppose, her being younger, and my parents being as they are, left me with a choice: ignore her, as they do, or take her under my wing.
Do you know they both forgot her birthday last year?
I had to scramble to make sure she never realized.
“Come to think of it, she’s got another one next weekend, when we have a break. I’ll have to think about what to bring her. I say, Ted, want to come home with me and make a little girl’s birthday memorable?”
“Why not?” It would beat going to his own home, that was for certain. “I’ll even bring her a gift. A rose, I think. All girls like roses.”
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered to himself, now, raking a hand over through his hair. He had gifted her a rose. A perfect pink bud which she’d received with delight. And now, she went about smelling like fresh blossoms. Apparently she hadn’t lied about everything.
If only Drake were here now to confide in as he always had. Drake, with his innate wisdom, almost as if he’d been born grown.
But Drake wasn’t ever coming home, because he’d followed Teddy to war. Because he’d volunteered to support Teddy’s maneuver and gotten himself killed.
Georgina wouldn’t be privy to the last, but she certainly understood Teddy had drawn her beloved brother into the war that had gotten him killed. Was that why she’d lied? Why she’d set out to make a fool of him? To cut him off at the knees under the guise of helping him to recover?
He would get to the bottom of it—and everything else. His father’s illness, which had him worried about the bastard, despite their troubled relationship.
“Don’t you die on me, old man,” he muttered.
For some reason, his hand, as if it had a will of its own, reached into his pocket and withdrew the document Danvers handed him when seeing him off. He studied the stamped certificate for a long while.
After considering the matter, backward and forward, Georgina descended the stairs from her chamber. She had not changed from her traveling gown, nor had she bothered donning her pelisse or gloves or bonnet despite the chill in the air as dusk approached.
Without a word to her parents, she let herself out the front door.
A brief conversation was in order. Just a quick word to inform Mr. Mealy she had no intention of marrying him.
She marched across the cobbled street and up the stone walk to Mr. Mealy’s front door and banged the knocker.
His housekeeper opened the front door, and invited her into the foyer to wait. A moment later, she entered Mealy’s gauchely appointed drawing room, with its deep reds, overabundance of gilt, and bare-breasted statuary.
“My dear, my dear, come in,” the older man said, heaving himself from the armchair near the hearth. Eyes gleaming with a now familiar hunger, Mealy inclined his chin toward the housekeeper. A moment later, air whooshed at Georgina’s back and the door thumped shut, sealing her in with the man.
“I think I can guess why you’ve come,” Mr. Mealy said. “Your parents informed you of our arrangement?”
“Indeed, sir, that is precisely what I wish to speak with you about.”
He smiled and gestured toward the sofa. “Don’t be shy, m’dear. Come closer.”
Georgina thought not. “Thank you, but I prefer to stand as our meeting shall be brief. Sir, I will be blunt. I cannot possibly marry you.”
“No? Whyever not?” With a peeved glance toward the dismissed sofa, he started in her direction.
“I do not think—no, I am certain we would not suit. And though I do appreciate your willingness to assist my father in his current circumstance—”
“You refer to the fortune-crushing wager he lost?”
“Er…Fortune crushing?”
“Entirely.”
Oh dear. She had acquired a decent savings, and the possibility had not occurred to her that her father’s loss might be beyond her ability to pay.
No matter. If necessary, she would borrow the funds.
“Be that as it may, I am prepared to return your…loan.”
“Really? And where would do you suppose you would come up with enough blunt to do so?” He chuckled, seeming very sure of himself.
“That is my problem.”
“Be that as it may, I think not,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I will not sell the IOUs. I am happy with the original bargain.”
“Perhaps you do not comprehend me, sir. I will not marry you under any circumstance.”
He drew to a halt before her, standing entirely too close. “No?”
She neither cared for the man’s overly strong aftershave, nor the canny look he sent her, as if he knew something she did not. “But you will, Lady Georgina.”
She frowned at him, quite sure she was not going to like what he said next.
“You see, I know your secret.”
“My…secret?”
“Indeed. And I’m quite sure you do not want it getting out.”
She forced a laugh. “I have no notion what you mean. Which secret might that be?” she asked, striving for flippancy.
In all seriousness, if he had, through some mystery, caught wind of a secret of hers, there were two distinct possibilities what it might be. One involved her career as an authoress. Might her father or mother have inadvertently spilled the beans?
The other, far more troubling secret, involved Teddy. If Mr. Mealy had somehow learned of the two of them, living as man and wife during the last month, the potential for Teddy’s social ruination was monumental.
Surely, he could not know either fact.
But, if he did, public revelation of either spelled disaster. How ever would she repay a monstrous loan if her income dried up? And that outcome was nothing compared with bringing scandal down on Teddy.
Mealy withdrew a white hanky from his waistcoat and mopped his shiny, florid forehead. “I think you do know. And I think you’re smart enough to know if word got out, people would get hurt.”
Her pulse spiked, despite her best efforts. “Why would my secret, assuming I have one, get out?”
“It won’t—so long as the marriage takes place.” He leaned very close. The mélange of his too-strong cologne mixed with a distinctly sour odor she did not care for in the least.
He ran one of his meaty fingers down her cheek and she stifled a shudder of revulsion. Oh, would that she had permitted Teddy to accompany her to town as he’d wished. Told all and sundry of their marriage—again, as he wished.
She closed her eyes briefly. Was she mad? They were not married, and Teddy must be told, post-haste. Especially now that their secret might be exposed.
“I’ve allowed for a six-month betrothal.” He licked his lips. “I would not be opposed to a shorter duration, however.”
His confidence terrified her.
“Why?” she demanded. “Why would you want this? Surely you would prefer to wed a willing wife?”
He huffed out a laugh, emitting the repugnant odor of old cigar smoke. “Willing, unwilling. Either has its appeal, my lovely Lady Georgina.”
His gaze dipped to her bosom, then fixed on her mouth with a determined glint. Lips parting, and slightly wet looking, he hinged forward. He was going to kiss her. The audacity.
She groped behind her, blindly searching for the door handle as he closed in.
In the nick of time, she touched cold brass, and twisted. Sidling out of its trajectory, she flung open the door and stumbled backward out of his range.
“I’m afraid I must cut our visit short, Mr. Mealy.”
“Please, Georgina. We are an engaged couple. The banns are set to be posted. You must call me Chuck.”
Without another word, she hastened for the door—and freedom—letting herself out.
Once on the stoop, she gazed about her in frozen panic. Now what? For once, she hadn’t a clue. She started for her parents’ home, moving on wooden legs. Then she saw the carriage, her carriage, parked on the curb, and a deep dread descended.