Page 22 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“Then we’d best be on our way,” she said. “I don’t like you up and walking around so soon, Rob, but I see you won’t be argued out of it.”
His brilliant hazel eyes lit up. He was eager to go, she realized. “I’ve won her over,” he said with a wink at Kitty, who gave Georgiana an amused smile in reply.
She let him link his arm in hers. He shifted with the first step, leaning more heavily on her, and she stumbled under his weight.
“Perhaps Angus should come,” Kitty began.
“I can make it.” Rob drew himself up, although Georgiana felt the tremor that went through him. Without thinking, she wedged herself against his side. She did know the feeling of wanting to prove herself, and somehow his determination made her want to help him. Together they made their way toward the garden.
By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, his arm was around her shoulders. By the time they reached the door, her arms were around his waist. She could feel the intense effort he was expending, without a whisper of complaint, and somehow that made it easier for her to offer him aid.
“Perhaps you were right,” he said breathlessly, dropping onto the garden bench with a heavy thump. “That was more arduous than expected.”
“And now you shall have to make the same trip back in.” She sat on the far end of the bench, trying to shake off the feeling of his body against hers. Her shoulder had fit precisely under his arm, and even after several days in bed, he was firm and solid all over.
“Not for at least half an hour, and it will be worth it.” He raised his face to the sun and exhaled, eyes closed. “I had to get out of that room.”
She sympathized with that. But when she glanced at him, the image of him sitting with his head back, eyes closed, rattled her composure. There were tawny highlights in his dark hair, and he looked so strong and peaceful, aside from the bruises. She concentrated on smoothing her skirt across her knees.
“It’s driving me mad that I can’t remember anything,” he said. His eyes were still closed, but Georgiana flushed guiltily. “Tell me about you.”
She looked longingly at the gate. What would everyone do if she just walked out, all the way into Maryfield, and took a place on the mail coach back to London? No sensible way out of her impossible predicament had come to her yet, and if he began asking questions...
“Georgiana?” She started. He was watching her with concern. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said with a laugh she hoped was carefree. “Nothing at all!”
“Truly?” He slid a little closer, his expression somber but somehow mischievous at the same time. “I’m a terrible trial to you, I can see.”
Not for the reasons you think.“Whatever makes you say that?”
“Hmm. The way I had to beg to come outside for a few minutes.”
She whirled on him indignantly, and he laughed, his eyes dancing. “Yououghtto be inside,” she said with a reluctant smile. “You know it, too. Don’t put it all on me, being cruel and uncaring of your suffering.”
“Cruel! Never.” He caught up her hand and kissed the back before she knew he meant to do it. “And no one could call you uncaring after all you’ve done for me.”
To protect herself from the consequences of her own lies. Uneasily, she tugged her hand from his.
“Were you frightened?” he asked after a moment.
“When you turned up half dead in the road, drenched in blood, and didn’t wake for days? Of course.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You’re angry with me.”
Another laugh, more forced this time. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I can tell,” he said softly.
Georgiana drew breath to argue, then didn’t bother.
“You’ve been conscientious and sensible as far as I’ve seen,” he went on. “Even if this was shocking and upsetting, it seems unlikely you’d be angry at me for being robbed and attacked.”
“Of course I wasn’t,” she protested. “You were not to blame for that!”
“That means you’re upset for another reason,” he went on. “Over something I did before. What was it?”
There was no way to answer that.
