Page 65 of When the Marquess Was Mine
Georgiana nodded, too interested in the answer to be taken aback by the lengthy warning.
“Lord Sterling is very confident of your affection. He takes it for granted, to my eyes, and as a result he does not treasure it. You’ve known him for quite some time.”
“Since we were children,” she said. “My father was great friends with his.”
“I know,” said Lady Sidlow, startling her. “Your mother, not as much.”
“Really?” This was all new to Georgiana, whose mother had died when she was eight. She’d heard all the tales about her father and Earl Pelham, Sterling’s father, and thought her mother must have been just as fond of the Pelham family.
“She was always gracious and polite,” admonished Lady Sidlow, “but no, she was not friendly with the earl and his wife.”
“I never knew that...”
“I don’t suppose anyone wanted you to,” said Lady Sidlow in a gentler tone. “Certainly not she! I never met a kinder lady than your mother. Always willing to forgive a slight, always compassionate to those worse off than she, always ready to think the best of people. She never said a word against any Pelham while your father was alive, because he and Pelham were bosom mates. But in the little things, one could tell she did not share his affection.”
Georgiana was speechless. Yes, she had always heard that Lady Sidlow and her mother were friends—even distant cousins, actually—but this was the first time the countess had spoken of her, except to scold Georgiana for being a sad tribute to the late Lady Wakefield’s memory.
“She was my kindest friend,” went on Lady Sidlow. Her voice had grown tender and fond, as Georgiana had never heard it. “I would tell her she ought not to hide her feelings so, and she would laugh and tell me it was better to think too highly of people than unfairly ill. Perhaps she was right. I was never able to adopt such kindness myself.” She sighed. “Your mother wanted so much for you to find someone who would treasure you.”
“And you believe Sterling does not?” asked Georgiana slowly.
Her chaperone’s mouth pursed. “He is very handsome and charming and I don’t doubt that he is very well aware of both qualities. I would only caution you that even devils can be handsome and charming.”
Having fallen into a rather somber mood, Georgiana was so startled by that warning that she burst out incredulously, “Sterling?Sterling, a devil?”
Lady Sidlow’s face reverted to the austere, slightly offended expression she’d worn throughout Sterling’s visit. She got to her feet and said in chilly tones, “Of course, it is your decision. Your brother has given his approval, and that is all that matters.”
“Lady Sidlow, wait,” said Georgiana, contrite. “I ought not to have laughed. I was so astonished, though—Sterling, a devil! Surely that goes too far.”
The woman’s gaze turned almost pitying. “I know, my dear. You don’t think it possible. Perhaps he isn’t. But I’ve had a wider experience of men than you, and I can only say I would counsel my own daughter not to be so hasty.” And with that, she left in a swish of silk skirts.
Rob reached London at dusk, after a punishing journey undertaken without regard for cost or convenience. Tom, who had insisted on coming along, never missed a chance to point out how uncomfortable this made the trip, even though Rob offered, and then threatened, to toss him out of the travel chaise without stopping. If he hadn’t needed his brother’s help, Rob thought he might have thrown him out of the chaise anyway, but his valet was still indisposed and had remained behind.
But now he was back in town, dusty and sore but hopeful. At Salmsbury he’d been in an odd state of paralysis, unable to forget Georgiana but also unsure that they had any future. No matter what he felt, no matter what he thought he’d sensed in that one wild, passionate kiss, he did not know whatshewanted. And he felt that until he knew, one way or another, he would be stuck in suspense, wondering.
“Welcome to London, my lord,” said Bigby as Rob shed his coat and hat in the hall. “I shall have a room prepared for the major.”
“Excellent,” said Tom.
“He’s not staying,” said Rob with a dark look at his brother.
Tom adopted a wounded look. “After I saved your life! Where would you have me stay?”
“Berkeley Square,” said Rob, referring to their parents’ house. “Or see if George will offer you a spot on his floor.” Their youngest brother, an aspiring artist, had rooms somewhere by the river. “And you did not save my life.”
Tom grumbled and glared. “You’ll never notice I’m here.”
“I’d better not. One word, and you’re gone.” Tom knew what he meant, and he acknowledged it with a mocking salute before climbing the stairs behind the footman carrying his luggage.
Rob turned to his butler. “Hobbes has a severely turned ankle and remains at Salmsbury. I’ll need a man to attend me.”
Bigby bowed. “Of course.”
“What invitations have arrived?”
Bigby blinked. Rob had never,everasked about invitations before. “I—I am not certain, my lord. You were away from town...” Rob raised his brows. Bigby bowed. “I will locate them, sir.”
Rob nodded. He had no possible excuse to call upon Georgiana. He would have to “happen” to cross her path, and even if it meant attending every tedious society event and causing a storm of gossip, he meant to do just that. “Send them all upstairs.”
