Page 23 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“Was I cold? Or thoughtless?” he pressed.
It was too much to ignore, this chance to be honest. “Yes,” she burst out. “As a matter of fact, youwere.”
A frown creased his brow. “Was that why I was coming to see you? To make it up?”
“I don’t know,” she said, still truthfully. “I had no idea of your coming to visit at all.”
“It must have been,” he said, almost to himself. “Why else would I come into Derbyshire?”
She tensed, afraid hewouldremember why he’d come into Derbyshire. “You remembered that you like being outdoors,” she said to divert him. “That’s something.”
“I remember how to walk, and how to dress myself as well,” he said wryly. “It’s a rather small something compared to all the rest. How did we meet?”
Georgiana clenched her teeth together behind her smile until her ears hurt. What to tell him? Thus far she had relied strongly on the truth—the truth of her romance with Sterling, that is. This time that wouldn’t work, though; her family estate bordered that of Sterling’s father, and they’d known each other since they were children. She’d been in love with him almost as long as she could remember. When he went down on one knee and asked her to marry him, it had seemed like something that was Meant To Be since the dawn of time itself.
She couldn’t possibly tell Westmorland that, even if it didn’t feel like one betrayal too many of Sterling.
“In London,” she said evasively, falling back on a heavily edited version of the truth, as it pertained to the Marquess of Westmorland and herself. “Some ball or other. I don’t really remember.”
“Ah.” He looked rueful. “I didn’t make a good first impression.”
“Not especially,” she agreed.
A determined expression settled on his face. “Tell me. Spare me nothing. I hate feeling that there’s something ugly between us, but without knowing what it is.”
Oh Lord. Nervously she rubbed her palms on her skirt. Lies, lies, lies. “I don’t want to. It’s unpleasant.”
“I expect it must have been,” he said, giving her a look that was both penitent and coaxing. She almost smiled. “Did I step on your lapdog?”
She blinked in astonishment. “What? No.”
“Did I spill champagne on your gown?”
“No!”
“Forget to request a dance?” He could make the most beguiling expression. Who would have thought it of the Malicious Marquess? “Whatever it was, I was an absolute idiot.”
Her reluctant amusement withered and died. Would he say that if he remembered, as she did, that he had thought her vain and shallow at that long-ago ball? That he would have never thought of requesting a dance with a girl like her, let alone bring her champagne? “Don’t let it trouble you,” she said, looking away. “I don’t.”
“It will trouble me, but I’ll stop asking.” He laid his hand on top of hers. “You’ve a tender heart, my dear.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She thought she was a coward and an idiot, and probably going mad as well. Every day she racked her brains for some way to cleave this knot, and somehow, every day it grew a little tighter instead—and it felt like it was around her neck.
“A soft head, more likely,” she said, trying not to think about that too much. “Letting you come outside when you would be better in bed, resting and recovering.”
He grinned, looking for all the world like a boy exulting in getting away with something. “I won you over.”
“I couldn’t let you stumble out here and fall flat on your face,” she said tartly. “Seeing you lying bloody and insensible in the dirt once was enough, thank you.”
“It is a performance I have no desire to repeat,” he agreed. “Not even for the most beautiful nurse in the world.”
She made herself laugh. “Kitty will be delighted to hear it! I must warn you, she’s already married.”
“You’re going to keep me on my toes,” he said in amusement. “I didn’t mean Lady Winston, and you know it.”
Georgiana widened her eyes and dipped, again, into truth. “Why should I think you meant me? You’ve never told me anything so flattering before.”
“No!” He laughed, then stopped. “Is that true? That can’t be true.”
