Chapter Four
Georgiana
He’d left on his horse without a second glance, his coat billowing in the wind behind him.
Peter closed the door behind us as we reentered the house, with Amelia quiet between us.
“That was . . . unexpected,” Peter said. He glanced at Amelia, and they shared some private thought. Amelia’s lips twitched, and a breath later they were both laughing, holding on to each other for support. “His grandmother’s ring?”
“The one time you go out gambling. You had no idea. No idea what you’d come home with.” Amelia laughed. “That poor man. He was sweating with worry you’d not give it back.”
Peter’s grin split his face. “Little did he know, had I not gifted it to Georgiana, I would have given it back without a second thought.” He shook his head. “There must be some sentimental value to it. Perhaps he’s promised it to someone, or his mother is in a fit.”
“Is his grandmother still alive? Perhaps she is the one in a fit. Poor man.” Amelia laughed again. “Regardless, that was quick thinking, Georgiana. Turning that awful duke on his head like that. I think this might just solve everything.”
“I think so too.” Peter’s grin softened. He took Amelia’s hands in his and winced. “I suppose I must return to London.”
“Of course.” Amelia threaded an arm around his back, and he held her side.
“Though you’ll forgive me for being the tiniest bit cross since you only just returned.
” He’d had business in Town but hadn’t stayed because of the little bean growing inside Amelia.
She was due in three months’ time. Another reason I could use friends to visit. To escape to.
“Thank you, but no, Peter,” I cut in. “I will go alone.”
Peter’s forehead creased, and he smiled only halfway. “Alone? Where will you stay?”
I shrugged absently. We hadn’t spoken of my mother since I’d asked if he wanted to invite her to his wedding. He’d turned a shade of red and almost spat the word: No. But he had to see how my staying with Mama simply made more sense.
“I had the idea . . . perhaps I could call upon Mama. She is only in France. I am sure, if I told her about the duke, she would come back.”
Peter recoiled like he’d been slapped across the face, his eyes utterly betrayed, and I instantly regretted the words. If I could have stuffed them back inside, buried them deep, I would have.
“Your mother,” was all Amelia said, nodding once and looking to Peter. She had an annoying habit of buffering any uncomfortable situation. “That is one idea. But there is also the apartment in Mayfair, and you and Peter would only be gone a few weeks.”
Peter shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his cheeks coloring again. “You do not want me to come, Georgie?”
“Of course, I do,” I said with earnestness.
“But would you not love, for once, to have the house to yourselves? Especially before the baby comes. You—” I swallowed hard, glancing at my sister-in-law.
“You and Amelia both deserve to walk freely in your own home without wondering if I am around the corner. And do not say you aren’t careful to watch for me. I know you are.”
“You have never been a burden to us,” Amelia said, shaking her head. But she’d say anything for Peter.
“This house is big enough for us all,” Peter said. “But if you are uncomfortable, I can certainly situate you in the dower house with a servant or two. I did not know you wanted that freedom.”
“I don’t,” I hurried to say, lest he think I was unhappy by his hands. “I simply want . . .” Someone. Anyone. “I could just as well stay with Mama.”
Peter sighed, his shoulders sinking. “She is not capable of the mothering you seek, Georgiana.”
“Peter,” Amelia whispered, grasping his arm. I was glad my brother had someone to support him, but sometimes it was painful to watch. I ought to have that too. A parent, at least. With Father gone, for better or worse, all I had was Mama.
“Like it or not, she is my mother,” I said softly.
But he continued, “Then where has she been?”
He was trying to make a point. Trying to say she chose to stay away from us, despite what had happened between them. “You will not let her come.”
“And has she invited you, ever, to stay with her in France?” He looked pained, as though the very question made him ill.
The familiar aching resurfaced, as acutely as ever. “No.”
He nodded once, as though that settled it.
Did it? Mama had never been truly happy, never truly attentive or loving to any of us. But Papa had told us stories of London—how she was the life in every room, how she’d light up and laugh and dance with any and everyone—and it had always been hard to imagine.
“But perhaps she feels unwanted too. Perhaps she needs only the opportunity. To be needed,” I said.
“With the duke at your side, I am certain she would come. But not because she cares.” Peter drew in a long breath. “I will come to London with you.”
“You won’t even let me write—?”
“I need you to trust me. I need you to be on my side on this matter. I would do anything for you. Please—let me keep you safe from this.” He sighed again, and Amelia wrapped her arms around him.
I wanted to peel her off and throw her out, just for a moment.
“And if,” Peter continued, “after your Season in London, you want to seek her out privately, of course I will not stop you. But you will stay with me in the apartment, under my protection.”
My throat had gone dry, so I nodded. Grateful, but I could not help feeling like a burden. “Very well.”
Peter nodded. “The duke returns to London straightaway. I will make it known when we arrive, and he will call upon us to make arrangements. This is a great opportunity, and I am proud of your quick thinking. Together, we will see your wrong made right, Georgiana. Things will brighten for you. I promise.”
I looked down at my slippers for fear the emotion in my throat might raise to my eyes. “Thank you, Peter.”
“Don’t start that,” he said, pulling me in close. “Go and tell Jane we’re London bound.”
I nodded into his shoulder, swiping away the one treacherous tear that had fallen before pulling back to offer him a smile.
The sooner we made it to London, the sooner I could let Peter free.
So, Jane drew me a warm bath.
She scrubbed every speck of dirt off my body, tied my damp hair in curling papers, and slathered me with oils. For the first time in a very long time, after settling my nerves, I fell asleep feeling like myself again.
The next morning, reality still hadn’t quite sunk in.
We’d packed my best dresses, colorful pelisses, spencer jackets, ribbons, underthings, my favorite silk robe, and various slippers, as well as my face creams, tinctures, and powders.
I paced the chaos of my bedchamber one final time, searching for anything I might need, anything I might have neglected, as servants carried my trunks down to the carriage.
Finally, with my travel bag on my arm in which I’d packed the final volume of Udolpho, my notebook, my favorite little pillow, and the miniature I had painted of Mercutio, I followed.
Peter stood by the front door with Amelia at his side and in his ear, whispering what I could only imagine were calming words. When they saw me, they both drew close.
Amelia forced a smile, unable to hide the sadness in her eyes. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you.” She’d be well taken care of without us here, but I knew she’d miss Peter. I knew she’d worry. It was in her nature.
“The ton can be cruel, but there are good people to be found among them. Trust your instincts.” Amelia turned to Peter. “And promise you’ll write.”
He drew her near and kissed her head. “Every day.”
I thanked her again, then left them to say their goodbyes alone.
The carriage waited for me at the bottom of the steps, fully prepared with all our things.
“I hope I haven’t forgotten anything,” Jane said as I settled in across from her. A new wave of nerves passed over me. I hoped I hadn’t either.
Soon, Peter let himself in, sitting beside me. We waved to Amelia from the window as the carriage jolted forward, and I gave Peter his corner. I watched the trees pass by my window and breathed deeply through my nose. I could do this. I could smile and laugh and find my place again.
In the space of one afternoon—in the blink of an eye—I’d been given a second chance.
I would not waste it.
Traveling from our home to London took a full day. Peter rested the horses often, and we took a long luncheon at his favorite inn along the way.
And I planned.
It went without saying that wherever the duke wished to go, others followed. I had no doubt the three women I wanted to catch in friendship would be aware of him. But, more, if I could get noticed by the right people, doors would start opening again. Invitations would come.
I wouldn’t have to hide away with barn cats. Forgive me, Mercutio.
The sky started to darken just as the roads grew easier.
I peeked out my window. Tall buildings clustered together on either side.
London.
Despite the late hour, I heard bustling voices, a mixture of laughter and shouting as we passed familiar sights on rickety cobblestone, and my heart raced, remembering how, not long ago, Peter had taught me these streets, and how I’d trailed him and Sir Ronald and their friends through Hyde Park, to the opera house, and through every ballroom.
How desperate I’d been. How hopeful. I hadn’t a care in the world other than securing Sir Ronald’s affection.
I’d thought our hearts were meant for each other. How horribly wrong I’d been.
I had created an illusion in my mind and heart, and I would not be tricked so easily again.
This Season, I would focus on renewing old acquaintances and making new ones. I wanted my life back, but I would not be greedy. To be among Society would be enough.
“I will write to His Grace this evening,” Peter said as the carriage slowed at the apartment. “Let him know we’ve arrived. I imagine he will call tomorrow afternoon.”
I nodded, nerves collecting in my stomach. The duke would be kinder in public. He’d agreed to it in writing. “You should go out tonight. With your friends.”
Peter smiled. “I am an old married man now, Georgiana. You are ‘my friends.’”
I shook my head to encourage him. “You are about to become a father. You ought to take the opportunity while you can. Regardless, I’m to bed early. And, who knows, you might meet another duke’s cousin at the card tables and win me my own working farm.”
Peter threw his head back and laughed. “How can I argue with that logic?”
And so it was settled. Peter left me and Jane to settle in, then chased his friends to White’s.
I dined alone, forgoing Udolpho for the scandal sheets and a glass of wine—or two.
The same names appeared, Lady Diana’s among them.
She was here, in the middle of it all, and had been seen buying a bundle of flowers from a street cart, some of which she’d later worn in her hair to the opera.
No doubt that same cart would be bustling with attention tomorrow. I had half a mind to visit myself.
Jane helped me into bed, and I reread the sheets once more.
I fell asleep with the page falling to my chest.