Page 117 of Lessons for Marquesses
“You appear more capable of winning a regatta than a duel with whomever that lovely lady’s husband is. Though I might save him the effort.”
Tufton cringed. “W-What are your demands?”
“First, I wish to apologize for fucking your wife. It was wrong of me, and I will accept your challenge if you feel the need to demand one.”
After a quick perusal of Nicholas and a quicker shake of his head, Tufton said, “I accept your apology.”
“Second, know that I, as well as your brother-in-law, Lord Acomb, will use all legal means available to bring suit against you for your wife’s crimes of theft and slander. Third, rest assured that through the courts and the reporting of its proceedings, everyone will know what a vapid, selfish creature she is. Fourth, I demand that every piece of jewelry your wife took from William St. Clair be remanded to Georgiana within the week.”
Alex dragged the naked woman screaming from a closet.
Nicholas bowed. “Good morning.”
The woman sobbed—a wife from the gold band on her left hand. A quality wife, from the sumptuous sapphire on her right. “Tuffy! Are we to be murdered?”
“Tuffy?” Nicholas chuckled. He found the woman’s discarded shift amongst a pile of clothing and tossed it to her. “I cannot say what your husband will do, my lady, if Lord Tufton does not comply with my demands, but I promise you, I have no plans for murder. This morning.”
Tufton held up his hands. “I will comply.”
“Good.” Nicholas took back the journal lying forgotten on the bed linens. “And the fifth, the most important. Why I have waited for five days to see you. If you do not come with me to Farendon, if you do not take your wife away and get her inhand, relieve Georgiana of her,forever, then I will relieve you, her children, the world, of her. I will be downstairs awaiting your decision.”
The Marquess of Eastwick had replied to Georgiana’s letter from Eastwick House, which Georgiana imagined to be a grand residence in the noblest square in the land.
Georgiana paced the nursery north to south while Kitty displayed each article of clothing purchased for her wedding trousseau. Now a trousseau for her continental elopement.
Kitty held up a voluminous nightgown with so many ruffles, her friend could hardly be detected amongst them. “I do wish I had chosen less innocent nightclothes.”
“It is part of your charm.”
Charm. That was it. The marquess had sounded positively charming in his missive. Georgiana had also pocketed the letter from Coutts that confirmed Eastwick was now owner of her lien. The bank had closed the notice with a most polite send-off:As always, it was an honor to do business with your family, and we look forward, in great anticipation, to the opportunity of serving your needs in the future.
The nerve!Ridiculous for one facing Fleet Prison, true, but she vowed to put a codicil in her will to ensure no ancestor of hers—this was fantasy, of course—would allow the blasted bank to service their needs.
Georgiana had waylaid the quarter payment notices as well. The Marquess of Eastwick had purchasedall her debt. The architects who her father had employed, the drapers, the solicitors, the tailors, the carpenters, the glazier, the carriage painter, the coach builder—all were more than pleased withEastwick’s full payment over Georgiana’s pittances to keep them at bay.
Over a thousand pounds went to a baron her father had played cards with the night he had died. Fate as it was, her father hadn’t finished playing his winning hand, so there it was.
“What of this, Georgiana? Is it fit to wear at Versailles?”
Georgiana gave a cursory glance at the frothy anglaise gown of pink silk and white embroidery. “It’s perfect.”
Kitty’s face fell. “Do you know King Louis is in deep mourning?”
“He is?”
“For his mistress, Madame de Pompadour. Perhaps he should like a new one.” Her friend dropped to the nursery carpet in a fit of giggles.
“Well.” Georgiana nudged Kitty’s hip with her boot. “If a girl is to be ruined, why not royally?”
And what of Eastwick’s plans? He had mentioned a meeting of minds, a compromise mutually satisfactory to both of them. Apartnership. Nothing more on what it would entail, but how could a man who had pinned her to a corner like a fox want anything more than her demise? Eastwick could affect all the charm in the world when he had the power to blot her out without lifting a noble finger.
But she had composed her pen, written him back, and offered to meet him at Chedworth on the morrow. No need for him to visit Farendon. She might not be able to remove him.
Kneeling down beside Kitty, Georgiana picked up Kitty’s sketch book. There was her mother’s grave. Her old guinea pig, Daisy. A desolate Scottish loch. Ships she and Julian had once dreamed of building.
She paused over a portrait. Her mouth went slack. “Is this Julian? In his smallclothes?”
Kitty hastily flipped to the last filled page. “This is you and Mr. Wolf. My horses are not good. Yet. But do you see the likenesses?”
