Page 82 of Marry in Scarlet
She bristled. “Send her back?”
“She’s not needed now.”
“You mean I should travel with you, alone?”
“We’re betrothed, are we not? In ten days’ time we’ll be married.” It started to spit. “Get into my carriage. I’ll speak to the maid and pay off the postilion.”
“No. My maid, my postilion—I’ll do it.” Furious with his high-handedness George stalked back to the post chaise, spoke to Sue and the postilion, then returned and climbed into the duke’s carriage.
Chapter Fifteen
Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first?
—JANE AUSTEN, LETTER TO CASSANDRA, 1808
Hart was pleased with her obedience. He wouldn’t have been too surprised if she’d climbed back into the post chaise and driven off. He gave his coachman a signal and the carriage moved off with a slight jerk, turning around to head back to London.
Georgiana sat opposite him, her arms folded and her chin raised. She was still angry, then. So be it. “Well then, duke? What’s this all about?”
She never addressed him by name, he noticed. Perhaps that would change after the wedding. “You left London without notice, without informing me, for no reason I could fathom.”
She gave a careless shrug. “There wasn’t time. It was an emergency. I didn’t even have time to explain to my aunt and uncle—I had to leave them a hasty note.”
Her apparent indifference annoyed him. “You should have consulted me. Sought my permission. We are betrothed. At the very least you should have consulted me about your plans... And your reasons for leaving in such a hurry.”
“Permission?” Her eyes kindled. “This! This is why Inever wanted to get married. This... thisrightthat men seem to think they have to control every aspect of a woman’s life! Or else leave them and their children to sink or swim as best they can. Never anything in between.”
Hart hung on to his temper by a thread. What the devil did children have to do with it? Or swimming. “What is it precisely you object to, madam? Is it—”
“Don’t ‘madam’ me!”
He ignored her. “Is it not my right to be kept informed of my affianced wife’s whereabouts? Our wedding is in ten days’ time and you—you disappear without explanation.”
“So?” She flung her hands up in outrage.
“You belong to me, and don’t you forget it.”
She made a vehement gesture. “No! I don’t belong to you or anyone else. I belong to myself. I am yours only as long as I choose! I am not your—your possession. Or your chattel. The only thing that holds me is my promise to you.”
He clenched his jaw. She damn well did belong to him—or she would once they were married. But he knew better than to remind her of it.
She must have read something in his expression, because she stormed on. “I go away for a few days to accompany my elderly great-aunt because she had an urgent need to return home, and you come storming after me as if I’d run off with—with some rake!”
“I did nothing of the sort,” he said stiffly. It was exactly what he’d done.
She stared at him a moment. Her eyes narrowed. “Good grief—that’s it, isn’t it? You thought I was planning to jilt you. Even though I had given you my word I would marry you—my word!—you didn’t trust me to keep my promise.”
“Nonsense.” It was exactly what he’d thought.
“Then why did you come chasing after me, breathing fire and brimstone and sending my maid away?”
“What has the maid got to do with it?”
“She’s not your maid.”
“She’s not yours, either.”
“No, but my great-aunt sent her to accompany me. You had no right to order her around.”
