Page 48 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“You played your part very well.”
He said it mildly, but she felt it like an accusation. “I could not be cold or distant. Not only would Kitty have wondered, but you—” Her voice faltered. “You needed someone to support you. I cannot imagine how frightening it must have been to wake up with no idea of one’s own name. How awful would it have been to be treated coldly or distantly by the person you believed to be your future wife? I hated pretending, and your questions—the ones I could not answer, about how we met and why we were not married yet—filled me with shame for what I was doing.
“But the alternative was to admit that you were injured and alone among people who disliked you intensely. What if it had compromised your recovery? I could never have forgiven myself for that. I—I judged it less wicked to keep silent, to be as helpful as I could manage to be, and when the moment came that you remembered yourself...” She bit her lip. “As long as you did not die, I told myself I would do my best and suffer the consequences later.”
“Your best was magnificent,” he said.
He took her hand. Neither wore gloves, and she inhaled at the warmth of his flesh on hers. How on earth had she got so used to this man in just a few days? She couldn’t remember the last time Sterling had held her hand, yet every single touch from Rob seemed to be engraved on her memory.
For a moment he seemed at a loss for words. He turned her hand over and stroked the inside of her wrist, sending a faint tremor through her. Again she knew she should protest—no one from the house could see them and there was no reason for this—and again she did not. It was dark enough now that she couldn’t see his face, only the shape of him, tall and strong.The last time, whispered a voice in her head.
They stared out at the night for a while, side by side, hand in hand. The sky was violet-black now, sparkling with stars winking into view as the last vestige of day faded behind them.
“I love to come out and look at the stars,” she said softly. “You can see so many more of them than in London.”
“It’s beautiful here,” he agreed. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather have been an invalid.”
“Please don’t be an invalid anywhere.” She shivered. “You did it so thoroughly this time, I hope you never try it again.”
“Obviously we do not always get what we hope for,” he said, sounding wryly amused. “Still, I could have been left senseless on the muddy bank of the Thames or on a Yorkshire moor. I’ll take Derbyshire over that any day.”
“I admire your genius for finding the bright side of your misadventure.”
“Do you?” He chuckled and nudged her with his shoulder. “After all, you wouldn’t have been likely to find me on a Yorkshire moor.”
“Good heavens no.” She shuddered. “Yorkshire’s bleak and cold at the best of times, and the moors are the worst part.”
She felt him turn to look at her. “Yorkshire’s where you’re from, isn’t it?”
“A long time ago,” she said. “I never go there now.” She changed the subject away from that morbid place. “Have you remembered Salmsbury Abbey?”
“Yes,” he said slowly. “It used to be a priory. Some ancestor pulled down half of it and rebuilt the rest into something more like a castle. It’s within a few miles of the sea and one of the most beautiful places on earth.”
She sighed wistfully. “How lovely it sounds.”
“It is.” He paused. “I think. My memory has not been reliable of late. I may be thinking of another place entirely, and find myself wandering the corridors in confusion.”
Georgiana smiled. “You’ll find out soon enough. But I’m sure it’s just as you remember—and either way, it’s home, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps you ought to come along and see it with me. I may have a relapse if it’s not as I think it is.”
Her heart jumped even though it was impossible. Thankfully she was able to answer in jest. “I should be very disappointed in you if you relapse after all the effort I’ve put into getting you well again.”
“I shall endeavor not to let you down,” he said with the same mock gravity, and they both laughed. Overhead a shooting star whizzed silently across the black velvet night, causing Georgiana to point it out in delight. A nightingale called nearby, and something rustled in the grass to their left. If it must be their last night, at least it was a splendid one.
“Do you still want to marry Sterling?”
His voice made her start. His question made her flush, then go cold. “What?”
“You talk about him the way a girl might talk about her brother. It’s been over two years since he asked you to marry him. He doesn’t seem particularly anxious for the wedding, and—”
She pulled her hand out of his grip, and he fell silent for a moment before continuing. “You go tense every time his name is mentioned. I wondered if you feared his reaction when he hears about this.”
“Oh.” She flushed again. What a goose she was, thinking he meant something else, some other reason why she might not want to marry Sterling. “I’m rather hoping he never does.”
“Is that likely?”
Georgiana sighed. Of course it wasn’t. “I shall tell him what I told you—I meant well but spoke without thinking ahead. Obviously I shall have to apologize for using his name.”
