Chapter 3 #2
His expression of horror was comical. “Good God. You don’t read dispatches, do you? Didn’t your brother tell you that most of what is written is to encourage the public to pay more taxes?”
Georgie kept finding herself smiling, this time to acknowledge the truth. “My youngest brother is looking to a life in the army. I have been trying to instruct him so he can make an educated decision. Dispatches are his preferred primer.”
For a moment the marquess—Greyville—sat in silence. Georgie suspected he was wanting to tell her some truth, something never included in dispatches, which she had long since suspected had been purposely kept out of Michael’s letters as well. She held her breath, waiting.
In the end, he just shook his head. “You were about to tell me why you came.”
Ah, so they were back to that. Every time he revealed a bit more of himself Georgie found it harder to break the news.
She picked a bit at the embroidered Grecian key design on her dress. “Er, well, the truth of the matter is, your...er, Greyville, I had a visit the other day from, well, from Priscilla Mayhew.”
That got his attention. He went very still, a hunter catching a scent. “And?”
Georgie wanted very badly to get up and move. But if she did, so would he. They could very well end up dancing around the room and getting nothing done. And the less she had to do with this room—and her task—the more comfortable she’d be.
So, she forced herself to face him. “How did her father broach the marriage to you, my lord?”
She had heard the description that a person’s face set like granite. Suddenly she understood it. This was not going to be easy. She was sorely tempted to bring up his little cousins again, just to see him smile.
“I do not believe that can be of any concern to you, my lady.” His voice was as stiff as his features.
She sighed. “Prissy made it my concern, my lord. She begged me to intercede.”
“Intercede? What in blazes for?”
Georgie fought the urge to twist her hands like a supplicant. She was so glad she wasn’t facing this man across pistols. He would have dropped her without firing a shot.
So she drew another breath and dove in. “She asks to be freed of the engagement.”
It seemed she’d managed to surprise him. “I beg your pardon?”
She straightened, as if that would bolster her courage. If only Priscilla had asked her to find a lost bracelet.
“Priscilla was never apprised of the engagement until her father had signed the papers. She is...er, afraid that her affections have already been given.”
He blinked at her as if she’d just spoken Chinese. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“What does it….” Before she knew it, Georgie was on her feet after all. “Tell me you are joking, my lord.”
He rose right in front of her. He topped her by a good six inches, and right now every inch of him pulsated with fury. “I was about to say the same thing to you, madam. I believe this interview is over.”
She scowled right back at him. “That would be my lady, Greyville. I am not married.”
“For which I’m sure some poor sod is eternally grateful.”
It took most of Georgie’s social discipline to keep from gasping. “Why, you bully. You would really tie a woman to you who would resent you every day of her life for taking her away from the boy she loves, just to make your life a bit more comfortable.”
His sneer was as impressive as his smile. “Try not to be so melodramatic, my lady. The girl is eighteen. She doesn’t know what she wants. But I guarantee she will be happy with being a marchioness.”
Now Georgie’s gorge was really rising. “If you believe that, sir, then it is obvious you never met her. I’m sure she was an easy solution to your problem. But as I was trying to teach Sophie just now, impulse is not always a good predictor of outcome.”
“You think my decision was impulsive.”
She shrugged. “You came home to a disaster. Everyone knows of your financial difficulties. Add to that the girls? You saw a way out. You jumped at the chance.”
He leaned closer, which should have intimidated her. She wondered why it excited her instead, straight down to her toes. “I wonder that you considered me worth consulting, ma’am, if that is what you thought of me.”
“Actually,” she retorted, determined not to retreat an inch, “I think Priscilla is worth saving from an ill-advised match. And the more time I spend with you, the more convinced of it I am.”
Why did his eyes have to be so compelling? Why did she want to ease that deep crease between them? Why did she want to touch him? It would do her no good. It would certainly do Prissy no good.
“And if I graciously step away,” he retorted, “who will take her place? You?”
He took her breath away. “And make us both miserable? No thank you. After meeting the girls, however, I will submit to helping you find someone else.”
“I don’t want someone else!” he bellowed.
Georgie shook her head. “Is this your normal method of solving a problem, my lord? Shouting it down?”
He glared. “It has certainly worked the last ten years!”
She did her best to smile. “Yes, but I am not bound by any oath to listen to it.”
He leaned in a bit. “Nor am I bound by any social convention to stay around and listen to you.”
She couldn’t help herself. “Is it that you are afraid you’ll lose the money,” she demanded, “Or the argument?”
She actually silenced him for a moment. She knew it wasn’t going to last long, and when it was past the windows would rattle. “My lord...Grey…”
He slashed a hand through the air. “Enough!”
“Stop it!” a voice piped up from the doorway. “Stop yelling at her!”
Georgie whipped around to see they had company.
She thought she had never seen anything so brave.
Two little girls, who she suspected had long suffered from someone’s temper, stood foursquare in the doorway, clutching each other’s hands like a lifeline, their features sickly pale and their eyes full of tears.
Facing the man who now had the power over their lives in order to protect her.
She would have run to hold them if Greyville hadn’t got there first. Suddenly he was on his knees, his arms around them both, holding them close. Georgie thought her own heart would explode.
“What is this?” he asked, letting an arm loose to wipe at small tears. “Lady Georgiana’s personal army?”
Sophie sucked in a shaky breath. “You...you….”
“I was yelling,” he said, his voice unspeakably gentle. “I know. I am too used to yelling. The army is a noisy place, and that is how we get each other’s attention. It doesn’t mean anything. Does it, Lady Georgiana?”
He didn’t even look her way. He didn’t need to.
“Remember I said that there were ten children in my house?” she asked the girls.
“Well, the truth is that with everybody else who lives there, eighteen people wander in and out of my house all the time. And that’s without the servants.
So, you can imagine how noisy it gets there. Yelling does not frighten me.”
Sophie straightened, her head back. “It doesn’t frighten me either. But sometimes it scares Amelia. ’Cause she’s little.”
Georgie stepped closer and crouched alongside Greyville. “Then his lordship and I will practice our quiet voices until Amelia is more comfortable.”
Greyville got to his feet. “Oh, I’m not sure I can do soft, Sophie. I sound like I’m growling.”
Amelia giggled, the sound like sparkles on the sea. “Just like Bark.”
“Bark?” Georgie asked, accepting Greyville’s hand to stand beside him.
Sophie put two fingers to her lips and whistled. The wolfhound skidded into the room, nearly toppling both girls and Georgie, who thanked heavens she was used to large animals.
“Sit, you silly,” Sophie told him.
He sat right next to her, his tongue lolling, his shaggy head above Amelia’s. Georgie noticed that he didn’t look to the girls. His focus was entirely on Greyville.
“I’m glad you have Bark,” Georgie told the girls. “That way yelling won’t scare Amelia so much. Because Bark would never let anyone hurt you, would he?”
“Not anymore.”
Oh, God. Much more time with these two would shatter Georgie.
“Then make sure you keep him with you,” she said. “Isn’t that right, Lord Greyville?”
“Indeed.” Even his voice sounded a little thin. She suspected he had caught the girls’ body language long before she had.
“Now, girls…and Bark,” he said, giving them each a formal little bow. “May Lady Georgiana and I have a few more moments to talk? I promise we will not yell.”
Georgie wasn’t sure he should make promises that would be so hard to keep, especially considering what she still needed to say.
Sophie considered both adults with her brittle, wise eyes, and finally nodded. “We still have one cinnamon roll. But prob’ly not for long.”
And with an impish grin, she tugged her sister out the door. Bark waited a few moments more, his attention focused solely on Greyville. Then he simply stood and turned to follow the girls down the hall.
“You could almost swear he spoke to you,” Georgie marveled.
“The doggie translation of ‘don’t hurt my girls?’” Greyville nodded. “It is the sole reason I let that hairy horse in the house. They need some security.”
She looked after them, thinking of what Greyville faced. “How long have they been here?”
“Ten days. Until I got home, they were with my cousin’s solicitor. He had no idea how to deal with little girls.” Sighing, he scraped his hands through his hair. “No more than do I.”
Again, Georgie was beset by the urge to reach out. To ease the tight set of those shoulders. To comfort a man who resembled stone. “The situation is more complicated than that. Isn’t it?”
He nodded. “You saw their reactions. The defensive postures. I’m very afraid my cousins didn’t know how to raise children either.”
“You really are quite good with them,” she said and smiled. “Take it from someone with experience.”
He rubbed at his temple. “Thank you again for your help.”
Again, Georgie had to dive into deep water. “Does Prissy know you’ve inherited them?”
For the longest moment he just looked out the door, as if seeing the sisters holding onto each other as they retreated to the breakfast room. Then he shook his head.
It was Georgie’s turn to sigh, and it was heartfelt. “You do remember that Prissy is only eighteen.”
“Women have been mothers by that age.”
“You know perfectly well this is not the same. Prissy is a sweet girl. But she isn’t...”
He turned to her. “What? She isn’t what?”
Georgie faced him, even as her knees shook. “Up to this.”
He glared at her again, his hand fisted at his side. “Why are you even getting involved?” he demanded.
Georgie offered a rueful smile. “Because Prissy asked me. She’s too afraid to ask her father and more afraid to ask you. It is pointless to ask her mother. Mrs. Mayhew would marry you herself to connect such a title to their name.”
“But you wouldn’t?”
She shrugged. “I already have an illustrious title attached to my name. It is not quite as delightful as it sounds.”
“So says a woman who has everything.”
She laughed. “Anyone who can say that has never been a woman.”
“A fact patently obvious to all.” He looked down at her. “What, then, do you want that you don’t have?”
But that list was too long, and too much of it unrecognizable to men. So, she settled for, “The freedom to make my own choices.”
It took him a second, but he finally shook his head. “Obviously a subject too complex to be solved over a morning visit.”
She ducked her head, conceding. “And without even the benefit of tea.”
“Or brandy.”
She was tempted to sit back down but realized that would put her in even more danger of attraction. She needed to get out before she began to see his side of the question. And before she actually did touch him. She was very much afraid that would change everything.
“Do me a favor,” she said, then shook her head. “No. Do yourself a favor. You haven’t met Prissy yet, have you?”
“I have not.”
“Do so. As soon as possible. Then come see me, and we can begin looking for a wife who would be strong enough to support you and those little girls.”
He still frowned. “Is this a service you perform for everyone?”
“For no one, actually. You may consider yourself special. And now, I have two little girls I must bid farewell to. Thank you for your time.”
And before she could change her mind, she curtsied one more time and headed out the door.
Grey stood there for the longest moment listening to the faint murmurs of that woman bidding the girls goodbye before Chalmers, the butler he had inherited with everything else, showed her out the door.
He was just about to head into his office to pen a note to his fiancée when Braxton stepped into the room.
“Eavesdropping again, Braxton?”
“Only in the most respectful way, my lord. We believe it was needed.”
“Oh, do we?”
“Indeed. A certain gentleman is waiting in your office to discuss your travel schedule. And there are rumors from the kitchen, where the cook’s assistant is walking out with a certain groom, that the young persons’ grandmother is planning a surprise visit to them today.”
Grey scrubbed at his face, suddenly beset by a new headache. “And I have a fiancée who doesn’t seem to want my poor self.”
“And, if you’ll pardon our saying, milord, a grandmother who will use the opportunity of your trip to take advantage.”
“A grandmother who makes Brutus growl and bare his teeth.”
“A grandmother who might well be able to convince the Chancery that a single man is no guardian for little girls.”
Hearing the bright chatter of those two little girls, Grey fought a fresh wave of fear that he would ultimately fail them. “And damn it all if I don’t know that. It seems my clever plan to acquire a wife has suffered a set-back.”
“A thought which has occurred to us as well. Whatever you do choose to do, Colonel, you’re running out of time to do it.”
“And damn it if I don’t know that as well.”