Page 68 of When the Marquess Was Mine
They strolled around the room, and Georgiana caught Lady Sidlow watching. She lifted one hand in acknowledgment, and Georgiana let Sterling lead her into the next room. It was much cooler and quieter, with servants bustling past and the occasional guest coming or going to the retiring room.
“Are you upset?” Sterling asked. “You seemed so earlier, and I don’t know why.”
She sighed. “It’s nothing.” The minute she said it, she cringed. If she couldn’t speak honestly to him about this, what would their marriage be like? “I was annoyed that you brushed aside my concern for Miss Hotchkiss.”
“Annoyed!” He was amused again. “I apologized already.”
“I know.” She took a deep breath. “What do you picture our life like, when we are married?”
“Ah.” Real interest warmed his tone. He stopped walking and pulled her closer. “I picture that a great deal, in exquisite detail, darling.”
“Do you?” She put her hands against his chest, stopping him when he would have leaned down to kiss her. “Why have we been engaged for over two years, then?”
His eyebrows went up. “Pining for our marriage? So am I. Let me show you how much...” Again he tried to kiss her, and she turned her face away.
“Why, Sterling?” she asked, her heart throbbing painfully. “If you’re so eager for it to happen, why haven’t we set a date?”
He released her. When she glanced at him, his playful air had fled, and there was a thin puzzled line between his brows. “You know why. Your brother is impossible to deal with. Even my father’s solicitor wants to tear out his hair over the settlement negotiations.”
“Yes, but if you were eager, surely something could have been agreed by now.”
“Something,” he scoffed. “I don’t see the need to give in to Wakefield’s every caprice.” He frowned at her. “What’s got into you tonight? Why are you attacking me when your own brother is the one who’s delayed and hampered everything?”
She bit her lip. Perhaps it was all Alistair’s fault, and there was nothing Sterling could do. She wanted to believe it. She almostdidbelieve it.
And yet... Was it too much to wish for some sign of impatience or eagerness from her bridegroom? Was it too much to wish he would call on her more often, or write letters when she was away, or show any sign of devotion while Alistair made them wait? Perhaps the wedding was out of Sterling’s control, but affection was not. She was slowly realizing that she had been content to adore Sterling, and he had been content to be adored. Shouldn’t there be more, between a couple about to be married until death did them part?
“What’s he done?” she asked directly. “Why haven’t you been able to persuade him?”
Sterling’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What—are you—Georgiana,” he said indignantly. “You are not yourself tonight, you’re clearly overwrought and hysterical.”
“I think you don’t really want to marry me,” she said softly. “Or at least, not in the near future.”
His eyes flashed, and for a moment she thought he would turn and walk away. His jaw flexed, and then he swept out one arm. “Very well. You wish to have a row. Let’s not make a scene, too, shall we?” He indicated a door a short distance away.
As she turned to enter it, she caught sight of someone watching them from the ballroom doorway, arms folded and head tilted quizzically. Lord Bristow. And from the corner of her eye, she saw Sterling motion to him to wait.
Right. He’d come tonight to see Bristow, and had been surprised to see her, too.
Sterling followed her into the small parlor and closed the door behind them. “What are you going on about?” he demanded.
“We’ve been engaged for over two years,” she pointed out. “And there’s no wedding date in sight. I’m not the only one who thinks you’re hesitant.” He threw up his hands, looking disgusted. “Why did you ask me to marry you?”
He jerked in surprise. “You know why! It’s been settled between our families forever—”
“Not settled, obviously,” she said.
More and more irked, he waved it away. “Your father wished it, just as mine does.”
“And that’s why?” she pressed. “Because our fathers wanted to unite our families?” Her father had died when she was seven and Sterling twelve; at best one could say he might have thought it a lovely idea.
“You wanted it as well,” he exclaimed.
Georgiana’s heart hit her breastbone. “Butyoudidn’t,” she whispered. “Not as much.”
“Of course I did,” he said, his tone softening and becoming more coaxing, as if realizing the blow he’d landed. “Of course I do!” He took her hands. “Marriage is a complicated thing, darling. You only have one chance to settle the terms. I’m pushing for the best settlement for us—for you. For our future, and our children.”
It dawned on her what he was saying. “My father set out my dowry very explicitly. You know exactly what it is, as does Alistair. You want more, don’t you?”
