Page 61 of Georgiana
“Your Grace. How I hate the sound of those two words from your lips.” He rose and moved to the fireplace, staring into the flames. “I regret, wholeheartedly ever ordering you to address me as such.”
“Maxwell…” He turned to face her; eager hope etched on his features at her calling him by name. “What are we going to do?”
“I’d like to start again. Wipe our slates clean, as it were.” He returned to his chair and leaned forward until his forearms rested on his thighs, his whole demeanor entreating her to consider his idea. “I’d like to court you, Miss Darcy.”
Her eyes widened in response to him calling her by her former name.
“You’d like to court me?”
“Yes, and the first thing you need is a chaperone.”
He stood and moved to the bell pull and summoned a servant. In less than a minute, Carson opened the door and bowed slightly.
“Could you please summon Miss Darcy’s maid to attend us please.”
The usually unflappable butler reacted with a raised eyebrow at his mistress being addressed as Miss Darcy but he rallied quickly and said, with a polite half bow. “Right away, your Grace.”
“Maxwell, this is ridiculous.” She rose to her feet and began to pace. “You cannot court your wife. It’s unheard of.”
“This makes perfect sense. Of course, I shall have to improvise, being that we are not in London, but I shall court you, Miss Darcy and hopefully win your heart and hand.”
A dread thought chilled her to the bone.
“If you are not successful in this endeavor?”
“Then, I will grant you an annulment,” he said in a quiet voice and her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.
It was then she knew. She wanted him to succeed. No, she needed him to succeed. She desperately wanted to love him again, without regret and without boundaries. He could not fail or her heart would splinter into a million pieces.
Pemberley
March 1815
Georgiana raised her face to the sun, its weak rays piercing through the clouds and glass enclosure of the orangery after a cold winter. Ever since her brother had seen the Prince Regent’s orangery at Carlton House in 1811, he’d worked hard to create a luxurious place to grow their own exotic fruits and vegetables all year round. She’d retreated there for some privacy in order to re-read Max’s latest letter, however, excited giggles reminded her the glass enclosed structure was also a favorite haunt of her nephews.
She rose and folded the missive, hiding it in one of the pockets sewn into her dress. She didn’t have to wait long before two nannies, pushing Fitz and Lizzy’s first-born Bennet and his cousin, Henry Bingley turned the corner.
“Down!” Bennet cried out upon seeing her. “I want Auntie G.”
Nanny lifted Bennet out of the pram and set him on the pebbled walkway. Georgiana crouched down and allowed the stout toddler to run into her open arms. Henry wasted no time in joining his cousin in a warm hug.
“Well, you have found me. Now I’m curious as to why when you know I shall see you later when we have nuncheon.”
“No nunchin,” Bennet pouted. “Want that.”
He pointed his chubby finger toward the bare apple tree beside them. She lifted her nephew and brought him closer to the tree.
“Do you see any apples, Bennet?” She wondered if he even knew what an apple looked like given that he was only five months past his first year and smiled when he reluctantly shook his head. “That is why you will want a snack later on. Eating a tree will not fill this belly.”
At the word belly, she tickled his tummy. He giggled and wriggled in delight until Henry tugged at her skirt.
“Me too,” he cried out.
Georgiana set down Bennet and quickly tickled Henry and for a few minutes enjoyed the innocent wonder of her two nephews. If she hadn’t had such a disastrous start to her marriage, she might have been awaiting a child at this very moment. What she wouldn’t give to hold her own son or daughter in her arms, but was that longing enough of a reason to forgive Maxwell.
“Who’s ready for a glass of milk and some biscuits?” she asked when they’d settled down.
“I am,” both boys said in unison.
