Page 95 of Lessons for Marquesses
“I was content before you came. I was content before you and Mr. Wolf and—and all of this. Dear Charlotte, my dear,dearaunt, I know full well I am not attractive to this world, but why must you change me? Do you think I will be happier or will it make everyone else happier?”
Charlotte paled. "Well. I…”
"Well. My.Indeed,” Georgiana said. "And just so you understand, I will go in here”—she kicked the salon door open to Mr. Wolf peering from across the room with a letter at his thigh—“whenever I damn well feel like it.”
Slamming the door shut, she heaved up her trunk. “And no, I wouldn’t dare have you stay in the nursery. I am ever glad to have been afforded the opportunity to place myself there.”
Georgiana marched to the nursery with her trunk.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Caroline tookadvantage of the unfastened door to the salon and without knocking, rushed into Nicholas’s darkened room in a flutter of silk. He had heard her cross the salon, had hoped it was Georgiana, and when he smelled Caroline’s rose perfume, his flesh clenched along every line.
She halted in the gloom, her voice eager. “Nicholas?”
He rolled to the edge of the bed and lit a candle. Caroline dashed headlong into him, pressing him to his back and kissing him. Soon, with no encouragement, she was straddling him and wrenching at his fall.
Clasping her waist, he lifted her off and set her aside in a heap of silver-and-blue surprise.
“W-What are you doing?” she shrieked as he buttoned his breeches.
“Nothing. I assumed that obvious.” When had Caroline ever waited for anything? She hadn’t waited for him.
“Nicholas, this is what we planned. For us to be together. And here we are and I have the mistress’s room just as it should have been.”
“Should you have taken George’s room?”
“What was I supposed to do? Sleep in the nursery? She couldn’t allow me to be without a proper room. She had to give me my due. I am a viscountess.”
Nicholas stripped a finger across her heart-shaped jaw. “You could have been a marchioness.”
Caroline’s chin quivered. “How? I was forced to the country when I begged, Nicholas, begged to be with you. My parents wouldn’t hear of it. They forced me to marry Tufton to avoid a scandal. And he rutted upon me, made me bear his children when they should have been yours.”
She wrapped her arms about his neck.
He put her arms back to her side. “Should you refer to her as Poppy?”
“It is her name.”
“Her name is Georgiana. In fact, I believe she prefers George.”
“What nonsense! I’ve called her Poppy since she was a child. Why would I not continue?”
“Because she might not like it.”
“And who is allowed to choose their name? I wish I were named Millicent. My husband refers to me as Caro, and I detest it but would not think of protesting.”
“But this is different,” he said. “Poppy is derived from an insult.”
“Because she is tall? Pardon me, but she is a giant.”
“Also an insult.” And yes, Caroline was a viper, wasn’t she?
“She knows she is.”
“And this makes it acceptable, how?”
Caroline shoved at his chest, and when he said nothing, did nothing, she came off the bed in a pique, huffed at his silence, and climbed on his lap again. “Why are we discussing her? I want you, desperately.”
