Page 75 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“Right.” Rob did not want to go to Vega’s. Not only had all the trouble with Charles Winston begun there, Heath was after him to rejoin their fast set, gambling until dawn and drinking themselves blue. He still couldn’t completely remember what the business with Forester was. It was probably better if Heath did replace him.
But as he started to shrug off Marlow’s arm, his friend added, “You’ll like him. Capital bloke, name of Sterling.”
“Viscount Sterling?” repeated Tom with a sideways look at Rob.
“Aye.” Heath shouted from the carriage for them to hurry along, and Marlow made a rude gesture in reply. “You’re coming, of course?”
He should go home. He meant to remain the man Georgiana liked, and not slide back into the arrogant, rakish ways that had made her hate him. But he was undeniably curious about Sterling, after thinking hewasSterling and then hating the man sight unseen, and somehow he let himself get towed into the carriage, Tom at his shoulder, and carried off to the Vega Club.
Chapter 25
Georgiana took great care when dressing the following morning. She wore her finest day dress and told Nadine to put up her hair in soft ringlets and braids instead of the usual simple knot for morning. Breakfast seemed to last an eternity, and she jumped every time a horse paused outside. Finally she was able to station herself in the drawing room, conveniently near the windows overlooking the street, with a book open in her lap.
“Are you expecting someone?” Lady Sidlow swept into the room.
“Sophie has returned to town,” Georgiana told her. “I hope she might call.” It was all true. She would even be pleased to see her friend.
The countess sat, clearly torn between suspicion that Georgiana wasn’t telling her something, and the happy prospect of a duchess visiting. “You went very recently to Chiswick.”
“That was before Sterling.” It was shocking how easily, how carelessly the name fell from her lips.
Her chaperone coughed. “Yes. Ahem. I suppose we ought to wait to hear from Wakefield before letting it be widely known your engagement is at an end—”
“Why?” Georgiana swung away from the window. “I shan’t change my mind.”
“As your guardian, it is his right to approve your marriage,” said her chaperone.
“But he does not get to choose whom I marry.”
Lady Sidlow pursed her lips. “Let us hope he agrees.”
Frowning, Georgiana was about to ask about that when the butler opened the door. “My lady, the Marquess of Westmorland and Major Lord Thomas Churchill-Gray have come to call.”
Lady Sidlow’s mouth dropped open. Georgiana fought down the urge to leap from her chair in eager elation.
“Who?” asked the countess blankly.
The butler repeated the names. Georgiana tried to look artless. “We are at home, are we not?”
Slowly Lady Sidlow turned her head to fix an amazed stare on her. “Yes, Higgins, we are,” she said to the butler. He bowed and left, and Lady Sidlow lowered her voice. “What did you do?”
“Lady Baldwin introduced me to the marquess last night,” she replied. “You were there.”
Lady Sidlow waved that aside. “Lady Baldwin ought to have known better. But why would he call? Did he say something to you?”
Yes. He’d said he missed her. Georgiana’s heart quivered at the memory.
Lady Sidlow was still fretting. “And everyone still believes you are betrothed to Lord Sterling, and therefore almost married. It would be improper for another gentleman to call upon you. Whatever can he mean by it?”
Georgiana tossed aside her book. “By all means, ask him.”
“Really, Georgiana, do not be smart with me,” snapped her chaperone. “What can you have done to attract the interest of a man like Westmorland? Despite his recent attendance at a few parties, he’s a shocking rogue. Even if he is looking for a wife, are you sure you want to encourage the attentions of a man like that?”
There were footsteps on the stairs. Georgiana’s heart was beating so hard she barely heard Lady Sidlow’s words. “I thought you were sorry I hadn’t set my cap for someone more illustrious than Sterling. You used to cluck sadly over all the noble gentlemen like Westmorland I’d ignored.”
“I never named him! Someone more respectable and less—” She pressed her lips together. “But why is he calling on you?”
There were voices in the corridor. Georgiana rose to her feet, her palms suddenly damp. “We’ll find out,” she managed to say to Lady Sidlow’s last anxious question.
