Page 32 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“I received this earlier today.” Kitty thrust a letter at her and paced away, fists swinging at her sides. “I don’t dare alarm Mother Winston and Geneva, but I shall scream if I don’t talk to someone!”
Georgiana recognized the seal in the wax, and almost cast up her dinner into the wisteria. It was the Rowland crest—Rob’s father. With a tremor in her hands, she unfolded it.
“The effrontery!” seethed Kitty. “That monster!”
Georgiana cleared her throat. It was a brief, polite letter from the Duchess of Rowland. She implied the marquess had set out for Osbourne House and ought to have arrived by now, and would Lady Winston be so kind as to inform him that his valet, left with baggage at Macclesfield, had sprained his ankle and would be going ahead to Salmsbury Abbey, the Rowland seat. She added that if His Lordship required a man, she would send another as soon as possible.
“You know what this means, of course,” went on Kitty grimly. “Heiscoming. He must have got distracted or delayed on the way, but Westmorland is indeed coming here. That beast!”
Resolutely Georgiana kept her eyes away from the windows above them, where Lord Westmorland—Rob, she reminded herself desperately—lay, unsuspecting and unsuspected. “Her Grace may be mistaken...”
Kitty opened her eyes wide in disbelief. “Did you not read it?” She snatched the note and pointed. “I beg you will inform Westmorland—see, she believes him to be here already!—and here—if he should require a man to attend him, I shall send one posthaste—where she suggests he means to stay a while!”
Georgiana could feel her nape burning. “Who knows what he told her, Kitty? Perhaps he merely wanted to put her off for some reason, and told her a story about coming here. I daresay he’s not the sort to confide in his mother about... things like this,” she finished weakly.
A week ago it had been much easier to presume Rob would coldly lie to his mother. Now it felt like a betrayal to say such things about him, even though they might well be true. The man she knew, Rob, was wholly unlike the Malicious Marquess she’d despised in London.
Kitty was shaking her head. “You’re much too kind to him, Georgiana. No, mark my words, he’ll arrive, sooner or later.” She took back the note and folded it, her eyes glittering. “He shall be sorry when he does,” she said with quiet venom.
Oh dear. “I really can’t think why he would,” Georgiana said desperately. “It’s quite a distance from London. Most likely he would grow bored and find something more entertaining to do along the way. For all you know, he’s holed up in a tavern somewhere between here and town, drinking himself stupid.”
Kitty was not convinced. “Perhaps. I hope so.” A thin wail drifted from the windows above them, Annabel waking and wanting to be fed. “I must go in. Don’t tell Mother Winston or Geneva.”
“Of course not,” Georgiana murmured, her eyes still fixed on the letter Kitty was tapping against her skirt. “What will you reply to the duchess?”
“Hmm?” Kitty glanced at the letter as if surprised she still held it. “I already sent a reply that he is not here, and shall never be welcome here. Perhaps she’ll do me the favor of warning him away.”
Georgiana said nothing as Kitty strode into the house. She’d been an idiot not to expect this. A man like Rob could not disappear without causing concern. He had family and friends who would wonder where he was.
And in truth, this had gone on too long already. Every day his health was better. Every day the chances improved that his memory would come flooding back. Most likely it hadn’t happened yet only because he was in wholly unfamiliar surroundings, without anything that might remind him of the truth.
And, of course, there were the lies she had told him to prevent that happening. The lies she had begun to... not tobelieve, of course, but she’d certainly stoppedhatingthem. He was nothing like she’d thought he was, and she uneasily realized she had begun to relish being with him. His flirting was flattering. His humor was irresistible. His determination to make himself well again impressed her.
She had not forgotten herself, but she had been tempted—oh so very tempted. “Idiot,” she whispered to herself. She was going to marry Sterling, and she was letting her head get turned by another man.
That letter was the bracing dose of reality she needed. She took a deep breath and gave herself a mental smack. Salmsbury Abbey must be rather near, if the duchess could send a manservant at once. He ought to go there, where he would be surrounded by people dear to him, in a place familiar to him. He would recover his memory and his health there, and she would go back to her life in London. She would even take that troublesome deed with her and quietly return it to Charles with a warning not to be so foolish again. This was for everyone’s benefit—most especially Rob’s.
The only question was how to get him away from Osbourne House, and how quickly she could manage it.
Rob rested his head against the back of the wingback chair. He’d felt well enough, and was so enormously tired of being in bed that he’d decided to sit there for a while and savor the fresh breeze through the window. But eavesdropping, he suspected, was some kind of sin, and he supposed the disquiet he felt was his just reward for having overheard bits of Georgiana’s conversation with Lady Winston.
Lady Winston had been enraged. He couldn’t make out most of what she’d said, but her tone of voice carried perfectly well. Those few words he’d caught, though... Westmorland. That name resonated inside him like the vibration of a plucked string. It felt dear to him, familiar... and right. He knew Westmorland, very well indeed if he’d had to guess. In fact, if he weren’t Lord Sterling, he might have thought thathewas Westmorland.
It brought no elation. Lady Winston’s open contempt had put him on guard, and the wary nature of Georgiana’s response made him recoil. Whoever Westmorland was—and the feeling that it was he felt like a rash rising on his skin—he was hated here. Rob did not want to be hated here, not by kind Lady Winston and exuberant Geneva and maternal Mother Winston, and most certainly not by Georgiana. He wanted her green eyes to light up with delight when she saw him. He wanted her to laugh at his jokes and fuss over him in concern when he felt unwell. He wanted her to lie beside him and hold his hand, even if she scoffed at his tall tales.
And most of all he wanted her to fall hopelessly in love with him and not break their betrothal.
That thought sent a chill through him. If he were, somehow, Westmorland, Georgiana might not actually be his fiancée. She was betrothed to Lord Sterling—whichmustbe he, he argued in his mind. No, he most certainly was Lord Sterling. Georgiana had saved his life, cared for him while he was unconscious, and rarely been far from his side since. She smiled at him and read to him and laughed with him. Damn it, hewantedto be Lord Sterling.
But it wouldn’t go away, that prickle in his mind elicited by the name Westmorland.
Chapter 11
The next morning dawned bright and warm, another beautiful day, and on the off chance the Duchess of Rowland sent someone, Georgiana decided they should be far away and out of sight. It was time to get Rob away from Osbourne House, but she needed to work out how to do it without disclosing the truth.
Deep inside her heart, she also knew she was buying herself one more day with him. Her genuine desire to return Rob to his family—before Kitty discovered what she’d done—was complicated by her increasing reluctance to end the charade and never see him again.
“It’s so fine out, I thought I might walk to the pond.” She turned to Rob. “What do you think?”
