Chapter Thirty-One
Teddy tasked one of the household’s strongest footmen with helping his father back to his bedchamber.
Then, he saw Cousin Jonathan, along with his personal effects—which he had presciently taken the liberty of having packed—conveyed to the shipyard.
There, he would join Dr. Shine on a craft bound for America.
Impatient to be done with the business, Teddy returned to the den.
Lo and behold, Lady Catherine now sat upright, for all the world, fully alert. He assumed she’d made use of one of the gilt wall mirrors in his absence, as her fine, light-brown hair looked smooth and sleek, tendrils curling artfully at her temples.
“Awake at last,” he drawled.
Her eyes lit up at the sight of him. “Teddy, darling, there you are. I wasn’t sure what happened. I came-to to find myself lying on the sofa, and that dastardly Jonathan gone. And, am I remembering correctly that the earl put in an appearance?”
Teddy took his time, crossing to the sofa where Catherine perched. He seated himself beside her, folding his arms over his chest.
“You caught that, did you, before it all became too much? Indeed, the earl is, by all appearances, fast on his way to recovery. The family doctor, recently called in, assures us he will make a full recovery.”
“Thank goodness you arrived in time to set things right,” she said with grave admiration.
“Thank you. As for Jonathan, he’s decided to relocate to the Americas, accompanied by, he shall soon realize, Dr. Shine.”
A beatific smile curved her mouth. “Bravo. You know how your father detests a scandal. You managed everything perfectly.”
“Yes,” he agreed dryly. “As it happens, for once we are in agreement. I want this business behind me to get on with more important matters.”
“Oh?” She looked so supremely sure of herself, evidently, misreading the smile curving his mouth at the thought of what task lay ahead.
He guessed she expected some sort of renewed understanding between them.
Had she always been this unaware? Or perhaps, a better description was arrogant. A bit of both?
Funny enough, he couldn’t even work up a good temper, despite her machinations. In a sense, he owed her his thanks. If not for her and Jonathan conniving behind his back, he might not have landed at Brook Haven, and Georgina might never have rescued him.
“Teddy, it is so good to see you looking so fit. I was beside myself with worry these last months. I missed you horribly during your time away.”
“Really? And yet, I never received the first letter from you during my time away, nor once saw you after my return.”
“I’ve already explained that.” She couldn’t quite mask her irritation at his apparent inability to grasp her position. “I wanted to visit, but Jonathan told me you remembered nothing at all, and that you were behaving in an erratic and often violent manner. I could not bear to see you like that.”
“Georgina didn’t seem to mind.”
Her mouth fell open at the comparison. “Georgina? Do you mean to tell me that pip-squeak, that wallflower, arranged a visit when I was doing my best to keep your condition a secret? How on earth did she…never mind. She’s always fancied you. She would brave anything for a moment in your presence.”
“You have no idea,” he murmured. “But not you, you who profess a longstanding hope of marriage to me. It seems odd, seeing as how you boasted that you had another suitor waiting in the wings. Who was it, by the by?”
She sniffed. “Mere words, spoken in anger, because you were leaving and I feared something dire might happen.”
He decided to voice his speculation as to the man’s identity before wrapping up their conversation. “Was it Prince Rolfe?”
Her eyes widened in shock and he knew he’d hit the nail on the head.
“I have no notion what you mean. He departed London at the end of last season, and soon thereafter, all the papers could talk of was his upcoming nuptials to some nobody princess from a clodpole province in Italy. Anyway, now you’re back and everything can go back to normal.”
Issuing her patently false denial, she inched closer to him, and now gazed up at him with adoration in her eyes.
He beheld her lovely face, and almost felt sorry for her. Almost. “I remembered you, you know, even in my disordered state. Images of you would come to me in flashes. So beautiful. So elegant. The perfect countess.”
She smiled up at him, triumph gleaming in her cold eyes.
He grazed her cheek with his knuckles.
Her skin was soft. But not nearly as soft as Georgina’s.
Nothing about her was as soft as Georgina.
And nothing about her inspired any sort of tender emotion in him, either.
Had it ever? He’d felt a brief attraction, certainly, and a duty to please his father, a man cut from the same mold as Catherine. As himself, for that matter.
But he’d changed. Partially from his time in the war, and partially thanks to the gift of not remembering who he’d been raised to be long enough to explore being who he’d always wanted to be. The person his closest friend, Georgina’s brother Drake had always encouraged him to be.
And Georgina, too, in her way. Even before she’d claimed him as hers, she had a knack for making him feel more handsome, more charming, more talented than, in reality, he could ever hope to be. Because she loved him—even then, she had. God knew why.
And God knew she still loved him.
Drake had known she did—and cautioned him to leave her be. But he hadn’t warned him off, entirely. What had he said? Tame your demons before you even think about my sister like that.
“You wanted me to grow up first, didn’t you, Drake? But you always knew she’d be mine,” he whispered, though his friend was not around to hear him.
“I beg your pardon?” Catherine stared at him as if he was deranged.
He got to his feet and strode for the exit. Where to begin? How to unravel this mess?
“Excuse me, where are you going?” Catherine demanded.
Nearly to the door, he glanced back at her. He’d all but forgotten Catherine’s presence.
“Oh, didn’t I say? I have to go take care of a matter involving my wife.” He smiled, rather enjoying the sound of that. “Jenkins will see you out.” He took another step, then paused, looking back once more. “And Catherine? Some friendly advice.”
She stared at him, clearly stupefied.
“I wouldn’t breathe a word of any of this. Not to anyone. To say the earl would be displeased would be to put it mildly. Frankly, I don’t think your reputation would survive the backlash. But that’s between the two of you. As for me, I’m afraid I could not care less.”
Teddy paced before the mews, awaiting his carriage.
He knew only he needed to act. To prove to Georgina that she was his, and not just by issue of some official document binding her to him as his legal, wedded wife. She’d made promises with her eyes, with her body, with her professions of love, and he meant to hold her to them.
She loved him. She did. So why, in the name of everything holy, was she doing her damnedest to rid herself of him—because that’s what she’d intended, blithely announcing her betrothal to another.
Think, man. If he knew Georgina, and he did, maybe better than she knew herself, her attempt to cut him loose would be motivated by…
A misguided desire to protect him.
Of course. Hadn’t she already proven she would risk anything for him? Just as she could be stubborn to a fault when it came to safeguarding him. Why hadn’t he considered that when he first went to her, demanding answers?
Because of his pride. Because of his own guilt. Because he knew he didn’t really deserve her.
Bullocks to that. She needed him as much as he needed her. Which meant he must uncover whatever she perceived as a threat to him and neutralize it. But how, damn it?
The carriage emerged from the mews and Teddy made haste toward it, gesturing for his groom to remain atop the box. “Number 37 Rally Street,” he said and leapt inside the conveyance.
A moment later, the carriage lurched into motion.
He would go to her. Simply demand that she tell him the truth—that she loved him.
But, glancing out at the passing scenery, uncertainty plagued him. Hadn’t he already tried that? And what had she said? That she wished to pursue her own interests.
This after first claiming her spontaneous journey home owed to her father having contracted an unexpected illness.
But what if neither was the case?
What if—and this seemed far more likely—a gambling loss by her father had actually precipitated her summons home, as his first instinct had warned?
If so, had she known, or had her mother lured her here under false pretense?
And what did that matter? He had the right of it.
Her father, always jovial, but always more interested in his own amusements, be they parties, or puzzles, than the care of his children, had set her up.
Teddy had appreciated the difference between Lord Belfry and his own, overly critical parent when he was young, never truly sympathizing with how hard it must have been for Georgina and Drake growing up.
Lucky for Georgina she’d had Drake to look out for her.
Drake who, seemingly from the womb, had a maturity that belied his years and experience.
Well, now Drake was gone. Which meant, for Georgina’s sake, Teddy must pull up his bootstraps and take on the role of her defender—which would be a lot easier if he understood why she felt it necessary to marry another to protect him, for God’s sake.
Didn’t she know nothing he could possibly gain, no wealth, no station, not even his life, was worth losing her?
No, she didn’t, because he’d never told her. Because, as Drake understood far better than he, his fears, his unwillingness to show any so-called weakness, left him half the man she deserved.
He could do better. He would do better. And he would prove it to her, once and for all.