Page 20 of When the Marquess Was Mine
Oh Lord. Georgiana wondered if Kitty would shoot her as well, if she discovered the truth. “Is Charles coming home, then?” she asked, trying to act as if she hoped so, instead of dreading it with every fiber of her being.
“No.” Kitty’s face had settled into terrifyingly implacable lines as she watched some birds splash in the pool at the center of the garden. “He has other things to tend to in London. Mr. Jackson has sent him instructions.” A slight, wry smile touched her lips. “And I believe he apprehends the alarm he has caused here, and wishes to wait out the storm elsewhere.”
Thank goodness. “How like a man,” Georgiana said lightly, “causing a tempest and then not wanting to suffer through it.”
Kitty laughed. “How clever you are. It will serve you well when you and Lord Sterling are married. In fact, I’ve come to tell you he’s asking for his own clothes. Lucy cleaned what she could, but his shirt was ruined beyond repair. Shall I send Angus to find his baggage and fetch a new one?”
Westmorland’s saddlebags were in Georgiana’s own room, where any identifying marks or materials would be safely hidden from view. Since she’d not left the sickroom any more than necessary, they were still there, their secrets undisturbed.
“No, no,” she said quickly. “I shall fetch one. Although I doubt very much Dr. Elton wants him to get out of bed, and what reason is there to get dressed when one can’t stir from bed?”
Kitty smiled. “Oh my, you’ve got a lot to learn about men. The sicker Charles is, the more determined he is to rise from bed and go on as if nothing bothered him. A trifling cold, on the other hand, will reduce him to an invalid. I expect Lord Sterling is going a bit mad from being indoors for so long.”
“He can barely stay awake for an hour at a time.”
“Perhaps you should go speak to him,” Kitty replied. “I heard him badgering Angus about procuring a Bath chair to wheel him outside.”
As if Kitty would have such a thing standing around. Even without his memory, Westmorland was still arrogantly oblivious to others. Georgiana reminded herself that this was her cross to bear, and that she had fashioned it and loaded it upon her own shoulders. She steeled herself and turned toward the house. “I’ll tell him,” she vowed, and hoped Kitty took the edge in her voice for concern.
In her room, she couldn’t find the saddlebags. For a moment her heart almost stopped; if Angus had come to fetch them, the marquess could even now be rifling through them, finding who-knew-what inside that would remind him of who he really was.
After a moment’s frenzied searching, though, she located them under a table. Nadine, her maid, must have pushed them there out of her way.
Oh heavens. She had forgotten about Nadine, who knew perfectly well what Sterling looked like. Nadine hadn’t been into the invalid’s room—as a lady’s maid, nursing was well beneath her—but if she ever saw him, she’d know at once that Georgiana had lied.
Georgiana covered her face with both hands. She’d have to make a bargain with Nadine to keep her from spoiling everything. This stupid lie she’d told was becoming more inconvenient by the moment.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Enough of that bother; she’d deal with Nadine later. She undid the buckles on the saddlebags and dug inside, feeling at once squeamish and wickedly curious as she lifted out the marquess’s possessions.
He hadn’t brought much. Clothing, all decidedly wrinkled after being stuffed into the saddlebags. She set aside a clean shirt, then realized he would need other clothes, too. She stared fixedly at the wall for a moment, screwing up her nerve.What an idiot you are, she told herself silently.Now you have to handle his undergarments.
Telling herself they were just pieces of linen and silk, she added stockings and drawers to the pile. If only she’d told the truth, Angus would be doing this. In fact, hecoulddo the rest; she dumped out all the clothing and set it aside. With a stealthy glance at the still-closed door, she turned her attention to the remaining contents.
A pistol, which he ought to have kept closer to hand. A small leather bag, embossed with a crest, that held shaving items. A rolled-up portfolio of writing implements and paper. A small penknife fell from it, and Georgiana retrieved it, mildly surprised. She hadn’t thought Westmorland the letter-writing type, but he’d devoted precious space in his luggage to this. A journal was next, and although she didn’t dare read it, she did slide out the document protruding from the cover. She unfolded it, and read enough to realize it was the deed to Osbourne House.
Her heart almost broke her ribs. Hehadcome to throw them out, armed with the deed of possession. All her animosity, which had burned down to coals in the face of his serious injury, came roaring back to white-hot life. Thatscoundrel.
Well. She wasn’t about to let him do it, not after she’d lied to her friend for him, nursed him when he was unconscious, and now had to play at being his loving fiancée. She took the deed and hid it under her stockings, where she’d already secreted his signet ring.
There was nothing else in the saddlebags. It was just enough for a few days, she thought. He must have been utterly confident in his ability to toss Kitty and her family out into the hedgerows.
Unless he had a carriage following with luggage.
She pictured a coach driving up and spilling out a half dozen of his arrogant, scandalous friends. They would demand to see him. He might recover his memory at the sight of them. Kitty might take down her gun and shoot them all, and then quite possibly turn the gun onher. Oh Lord, why hadn’t she thought of that before?
“Do you need help, m’lady?” asked Nadine behind her.
Georgiana started violently and whirled around. “What do you mean, sneaking up on me like that?”
Nadine blinked. “I didn’t sneak! Angus sent me to ask if you’ve found Lord Sterling’s clothing yet.”
“As you can see, I have.” She scooped up the armload of clothing, minus the few things she’d set aside, and gave it to the maid. “Have this cleaned and pressed. It’s in a dreadful state after being stuffed into saddlebags.”
“Yes, m’lady.” Nadine took it and disappeared.
Georgiana pressed her trembling fingertips to her temple. This was getting out of hand. She’d have to think what to do about Nadine. And about the deed. And about the possibility of Westmorland’s friends showing up. And the chances his memory recovered. And, of course, the ultimate problem of how to disentangle herself from the mess she’d created.
It was enough to make her want to flee back to London and the close supervision of her chaperone Lady Sidlow. At the moment, she didn’t feel competent to look after herself at all.
