Page 127 of Lessons for Marquesses
His powerful form shook with hers. “Shhh. Listen, do you remember when I said that you didn’t know who you were? That I did? I didn’t know a damn thing. You have always known who you are, and I found myself because of you.”
She was breaking and nothing could stop it, desperately in love with a man who hadmistakenlyfallen in love with her in an act of war. Because those stupid novels were wrong. One didn’t simply stop loving a person when they betrayed you.
She crawled away. He helped her to her feet. She held her breath, trying to tame it as she fed her arms into her frock coat.
“George, I love you.”
She sobbed. “And what a sorry state to have your plans waylaid by falling in love with your enemy.”
He paled. Yes, because he had seen her as just that. His enemy.
She stumbled to the mirror. She fixed her stock, fluffed the ruffles on her shirt, and tried to smile. Where was her smile?
“I am the same man you fell in love with,” he said.
She shot her finger at the mirror meeting his eyes. “The Wolf aimed straight and true, didn’t he?”
“We will fix this. Let me take you back to Farendon.”
“No, thank you. I’ll walk.”
“Ride with Oliver.”
Oliver had betrayed her, too. “No.”
He stepped long, and she was in his arms again. He cupped her cheek. There was so much pain in his eyes, she had to avert her gaze. “Take my horse, then. We will talk about this tomorrow. I don’t want to let you go.Youare my beloved.”
She shook him off, clenched her teeth, and swallowed hard. Stepping over the debris, shoulders back, she opened the chamber door. Mrs. Higglewaite capped a line of slack-jawed servants pressed down the gloomy corridor.
She walked down the main staircase, taking the most direct route outside. Below her bedroom window, she passed the oak with the magpie’s nest and sobbed. Chedworth would be her residence now. Alone. Again. With its ghosts, with that billiard room.
His brother.
Too shocked by Nicholas’s confession, she hadn’t pieced it together.
She stumbled over a rabbit hole. Catching herself in an unkempt hedge, she extracted her sleeve and kept on. In the stables, she saddled Nicholas’s stallion and headed back home. Not her home.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Back at Farendon,Charlie looked worriedly at Georgiana as he took the stallion in the stable yard but he said nothing. What was there to say? George was crying. It defied reason.
Minion screamed from her box, but she had no patience for her mare when she wished to be soothed, not soothe. With heavy steps, she entered the sitting room through the garden.
“Poppy! What is this? Are you crying?”
Georgiana drew up. It was too late to wipe her tears as Caroline crossed the sitting room. By the glow on her cheeks, her cousin was rejoicing inside.
“Oh, my dear cousin. What has happened? You appear to have lost your best friend.”
She had. KittyandNicholas.
Georgiana covered a sob.
Caroline reared back. A series of emotions played out on her features, difficult to discern on her bruised face. “Where did you get that ring?”
Georgiana tucked her hand at her side. Caroline followed it and craned her head around when Georgiana moved it to herback. In the distance, the portico door opened and emphatic steps echoed off the ceiling.
“Let me see it,” she demanded, reaching for Georgiana’s wrist. When she couldn’t wrestle her hand free, Caroline’s voice lowered. Her eyes whipped over Georgiana. She laughed, a singularly victorious sound. “You pathetic thing. Did he tell you he is the Marquess of Eastwick?”
