Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Baron and Baroness of Gladstone, so different from Teddy’s father, had welcomed his presence—when they were home and noticed that their children, Drake and Georgina, were about.
God, Georgina. He pictured the wide-eyed angel whose gaze had followed him everywhere, then remembered the first time he’d seen her as other than that.
Ted had invited himself to Drake’s home during one of their Oxford breaks, preferring the laid-back atmosphere of his friend’s home to what promised to be a miserable affair at his father’s country estate.
He and Drake had barely settled in when she’d walked into the room looking… all grown up. Utterly luscious.
But Ted had been too wild for her, and Drake, seeing that, had warned him off of her—and too, he didn’t trust himself not to break her heart. Who could have foreseen how she’d play him for a fool?
Banishing the memories, as the carriage halted in front of the townhouse, he drew a bracing breath and descended the carriage steps, then strode for the front door.
The Belfrys’ butler, of course, recognized him, inviting him in with no hesitation.
He looked decidedly taken aback when Ted asked not for Lord Belfry, but Lady Georgina.
“She’s…er…not in, my lord.”
“Hasn’t she arrived?”
“Yes, this morning.”
“Then, where’s she gone?” he demanded.
“I can’t say. I know only that she stepped out the front door a moment ago.”
“Stepped out?”
The front door swung open, and Ted shifted ’round to see Georgina hastening inside. She wore no pelisse, no gloves, no bonnet, and was white as a sheet.
They stared at each other as if neither wanted to break the silence first.
“I…if you’ll excuse me?” the butler stammered.
Neither replied, and the butler made himself scarce.
Teddy was the first to crack. He took one step toward her, his gaze drifting over her as his heart hammered in his chest, nearly painful in its intensity. She still wore the traveling gown she’d had on when they parted. How was that possible, as so much had occurred between then and now?
He inhaled her sweet scent, eau de rose, tracked the sight of her pink-tipped tongue darting out to dampen her plump lips, and grew hard.
Damn her.
“Georgina, how fares your father?” he clipped out.
“He’s…it’s difficult to explain.” Her gaze darted from him toward the corridor as if she feared someone might appear at any moment.
Then, she grabbed his hand with icy fingers and all-but dragged him toward the drawing room.
The doors were closed. With extreme care, she twisted the brass lever, opened the door a crack, and peeked inside.
“Georgina, is that—” Her mother’s voice abruptly cut off as Georgina, wild-eyed and moving with the speed of a hummingbird, closed the door. “Not here.”
And off they went to the library, where he and Drake, often accompanied by Georgina, had spent many an evening, reading, conversing, playing chess.
After ducking her head inside, purportedly to assure herself of its vacancy, she darted inside, his hand still tightly held in hers.
She needn’t have bothered with the death grip. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight.
Inside the dimly lit chamber, she released him, closed the door, and shot the lock.
Then she shifted to face him. “I didn’t expect to see you here, now. Has something happened?”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Has something happened,” he repeated as if testing the words.
“I don’t believe I know how to answer that.
Of a certainty, I have many questions to put to you, however.
I just never anticipated starting with what in hell is going on here?
It’s obvious you’re in a state over something. ”
“I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can. That’s rather your specialty, is it not?” A cold anger he did not bother to hide laced every word.
Georgina’s face, already pale, went devoid of color.
He reached over, fingers trembling, damn his eyes, and cupped her nape. “Tell me,” he said, gentling his tone.
“It’s not important,” she said, then swallowed audibly. “Your memories have returned,” she whispered, sounding understandably anxious.
“They have. Naturally, I’ve noted some, let us say, inconsistencies between what I now recall and the stories you fed me.”
“I can explain,” she said a second time.
“Oh? Which part? The part where we weren’t actually married when I went to war? Or, perhaps, the bit about Lady Catherine not actually being Drake’s intended? Or perhaps you wish to explain how almost none of the things you told me about us actually took place.”
Aside from the rose. He had given her that first rose. He shoved the inane thought from his mind.
“Don’t you dare,” he gritted out when he saw her chin tremble.
She clenched her jaw and shook her head, almost as if reprimanding herself. “I only wanted to take you from that place. It was a split-second decision.”
“I might have believed that—if not for the forged certificate you so handily produced.”
He waited for her response. When she said nothing, he asked, “Why did you do it? Was it avarice? Expediency? A means to snatch yourself an earl in one bold move?”
“No,” she denied with vehemence, thick brows snapping together. “How can you say that?”
“To make a fool of me, then? To make me pay for…Drake?” Her brother’s name came out a hoarse whisper.
“No. Teddy, no. What does that even mean, for Drake?”
He jammed a hand through his hair and turned so he didn’t have to see her eyes, wide and pleading and wreaking havoc on his insides. “Because it was my fault—what happened to him—and he was your beloved brother, your champion.”
From behind him, she gripped his bicep, tugging in a silent demand for him to face her.
He did not give an inch. He couldn’t.
Finally, her hand fell away. “It wasn’t your fault, Teddy. None of this was,” she said softly. “I never meant to trick you, or to force you into a real marriage. Th-that’s why I kept it fake. I only wanted to keep you safe. You must believe me.”
Now, he turned, eyes narrowing on her, searching for signs of duplicity. “Must believe you? After all your lies? Do you really expect me to do that? Give me one reason why I should.”
Weak fool that he was, everything inside him wanted her to say the words—the words that seemed to reach inside him, acting like a balm for every hurt, every wound, every rent he’d ever sustained.
She searched his face, then shook her head. A single, fat tear coursed down her cheek.
In that moment, the compulsion to grab her, pull her close, and bury his face in her hair, hammered his willpower, nearly to the breaking point. How far he’d sunk. How vulnerable she’d made him. And still, he craved the words—words she did not utter.
“I…can’t.”
She may as well have gutted him with a blade.
“I see.” He could not stand to look at her another second.
He pushed past her, reaching for the lock, even as everything in him hoped beyond reason she would stop him.
She would tell him this was all a horrible misunderstanding. That, of course, she loved him.
“You’re better now, aren’t you? You can…you can resume your life. Take up the reins of your title, marry Lady Catherine, as you always planned…and leave me to…pursue my own interests.”
It was like she’d stabbed a burning poker through his clothing, past the skin and bone and muscle of his back, to lodge into his chest. He turned his head to glare at her over his shoulder. “I beg your pardon?”
She lifted her chin. “I never meant to let things go as far as they did. Why do you think I told you I’d asked for an annulment? As it happens, I”—she swallowed—“I have an existing agreement with another.”
He shook his head to clear it. For a moment there, he’d thought she’d blithely implied she intended to marry another.
She laughed, a breathless, airy sound. “I’m…engaged, Teddy. That is why I had to come home, to see to some of the details of the agreement.”
Her words slammed into him, leaving him almost lightheaded.
God, he’d stewed over the distasteful thought she’d meant to entrap him, or worse, punish him.
But looking at her now, her beautiful face suddenly and incontrovertibly serene, he was forced to confront the possibility she really had just wanted to help him, and now that his memories had returned, really did intend to let him go his merry way.
“I see. And I suppose all your espoused sentiment, that was…” Damn his inability to keep his bloody mouth shut. In another minute, he’d be begging her to tell him her heart was his.
“Lies, I’m afraid. I had to be believable.”
He could not breathe.
Show no chink.
Shame yourself and you shame me.
He clenched his jaw, tight enough his teeth crunched.
She sent him a brilliant smile that turned his blood to ice. “You’re safe. Safe from Brook Haven, and the tea you hated. You can sort things with your father who I’m certain will be so glad to learn he has his son and heir back.”
He sucked in a breath. It was either that, or pass out at her feet and make a complete cake of himself. Without another word, he yanked open the library door, and let himself out of the manse, and out of her life.
Georgina stood utterly still. If she moved, so much as a pinkie, she feared—no, she knew—she would shatter.
She’d always intended to let Teddy go, she told herself. She’d always known he wasn’t really hers. She just hadn’t foreseen it ending quite this way.
But it wasn’t really done, was it? Because, considering his intrinsic honor, his insistence on doing everything exactly right, as Drake always teased him about, there was the distinct possibility, after giving the matter thought, he would realize she’d once again lied.
He would entrap himself, marry her, despite the fact he hadn’t chosen her. She couldn’t let that happen.
Dread hollowing out her insides, she exited the library and trudged down the corridor to the drawing room. She flung the door open.