Page 43 of Marry in Haste
“I know it’s all very strange and unsettling, Georgiana, but bear with me. I cannot descend on Aunt Dottie with a collection of large animals and an old retainer, as well as a great-niece she knew nothing about. Her house isn’t big enough, for a start.”
“Then leave me here!”
“At times, we all have to do things we don’t want to do. Your grandfather was the Earl of Ashendon. His life was laid out for him because of who he was. Your late father was, for the last year of his life, also the Earl of Ashendon, as I am now. None of us had any choice in it—we were simply born to that position, and fate did the rest. And the same goes for you.”
She gave him a startled look. “Me?”
He nodded. “Your father was an earl, so you are now Lady Georgiana Rutherford—has nobody ever told you that?”
She shook her head.
“Well, you are, and it is not fitting for Lady Georgiana Rutherford to continue living the life you’ve been living here.”
“But I’m happy here.”
“You can be happy anywhere if you put your mind to it. Now don’t worry—Martha is perfectly content with the arrangement. As soon as it’s convenient I’ll send for the dog—and yes, the horse as well. It’s obvious you love to ride and he’s a fine animal.”
She sniffed. “How do I know you’ll keep your promise?”
“I am not in the habit of breaking my word,” he said stiffly.
She rolled her eyes. “Heard that before. Apparently my father was fond of saying, ‘My word is my bond,’ and we all knew what that meant.”
“I amnothinglike your father.”
She shrugged. “Who will take care of Sultan? He can be difficult. He hates strangers—”
“Chiswick said he thought Jem Stubbins, your former stableboy, would be willing. He is currently working for a butcher, a job that is not to his taste. I trust you approve?”
She scrunched herself into the corner seat farthest away from Cal. “Thought of everything, haven’t you?” It wasn’t a compliment.
After about ten minutes on the main road, the carriage slowed. Hawkins opened the communication hatch.
“What is it, Hawkins?”
“It’s Miss George’s dawg, m’lord. It’s following us.”
Georgiana’s face lit up. “See, Finn goes everywhere with me. He always has. Let him in, oh, please let him in.”
“Keep going, Hawkins. The dog will give up soon and return home.”
“I hate you!” Georgiana curled up in her corner, a hostile ball of misery.
The carriage picked up speed again. Fifteen minutes later, Hawkins slowed again. “It’s still following, m’lord.”
Georgiana leaned forward and put a hand on Cal’s knee. Tears glimmered on her long lashes. “Please. Finn won’tgive up. He’ll follow us until he drops. His paws will be bleeding...”
Cal sighed. “Let the blasted animal in.” The carriage came to a halt and he opened the door. Georgiana whistled again, and a moment later the dog clambered awkwardly into the carriage, his ribs heaving with exhaustion, a panting red tongue lolling halfway down his chest.
Georgiana gave the great beast a rapturous welcome, cooing over him as if he were a lapdog. “Finn, oh, Finn darling. What a good, clever dog you are! Yes, you are!”
Cal watched gloomily. The dog was huge. He was wet, he was muddy, he had probably never been bathed in his life. Now that he was reunited with his mistress, his long scraggy tail lashed ecstatically back and forth, sending joyous splatters of mud and filth in all directions—mainly over Cal’s pristine coat and breeches.
And the smell—dear God!
Georgiana gave him an apologetic glance. “He must have found a dead bird to roll in. He’s very fond of rolling in dead things.”
Of course he was. Cal tried not to breathe.
