Page 55 of When the Marquess Was Mine
Georgiana had known all this for years. She had always felt at least a sliver of sympathy for her chaperone, and she had never put any of it in the older woman’s face. But Lady Sidlow had never managed to strike so precisely at her most vulnerable point before, and Georgiana felt her composure and restraint running very thin.
Lady Sidlow inhaled deeply. “That is not necessary. I was only trying to help, but I see my advice is not wanted. I beg your pardon.” She swept out of the room, leaving Georgiana deflated.
She was not overly fond of Lady Sidlow, but she did not hate her. It was rude to have spoken to her that way, and Georgiana was instantly sorry. Glumly she pulled off her gloves, collected her bonnet, and went upstairs, her feet heavy.
It was not a long trip to Salmsbury Abbey, but it felt like a thousand miles to Rob. Partly that was due to his brother, who wedged himself into the carriage opposite him. Rob was incredibly tired of Tom watching him as if afraid he would have a nervous outburst at any moment.
Georgiana had been gone when they came downstairs that morning. The innkeeper told him she’d been up early, hoping to get a start on the long trip. “Cheery and gracious, she was,” he told Rob. “Ever so apologetic to the poor lads who were to go with them, yawning as they put the horses to harness. She asked for an extra hamper of food, just for them.”
She would do that. He could just picture her bright smile, charming everyone into setting out an hour sooner than planned and taking every effort to make it up to them. And she’d done it because she wanted to be gone before he woke, to prevent any awkward meeting after that kiss.
He had lain awake half the night thinking about that kiss. Perhaps he ought not to have done it; he knew she was engaged to Sterling, and Georgiana was intensely loyal. But then he thought how he would feel if he’d never risked it, and knew he’d do it all over again. If he never saw her again—or if the next time he saw her she was Lady Sterling... at least he would know he had tried.
They reached Salmsbury in the late afternoon, when the sunlight took on a particular golden hue. Tom, who had finally got the hint and gone quiet for the last part of the trip, sat up. “They’ll be expecting us. I sent word to Mother yesterday.”
Rob put his face to the window and watched as they rolled down the gentle slope toward the house. Salmsbury was home, where he and his brothers had grown up running wild in the fields and thickets. The weathered gray stone house, as sprawling as any castle, came in sight, and he heaved a silent sigh. He remembered it, yet with a strange feeling of detachment.
It would help if he could stop thinking about how he’d asked Georgiana to come with him, and how she might have been sitting where Tom was, her green eyes wide with interest and her hand comfortingly in his. He could have covered any lapses in his still-sluggish memory by letting her ask the questions and hearing the answers.
The carriage stopped at the side entrance, where the family usually went in. Tom jumped down and stood waiting, but Rob steadfastly ignored his implicit assistance. He climbed down gingerly, leaning on the cane. As the servants hurried forward to fetch the luggage, a woman came around the corner of the house, a large basket over one arm. She stopped cold at the sight of them. Her basket fell to the ground, spilling its burden of flowers. Beside him, Tom raised one hand in greeting and took a step backward.
“Don’t leave,” Rob said without thinking. He wasn’t ready for this, not alone, not yet.
“Just clearing her path,” murmured his brother.
The woman broke into a run, clutching up her skirts indecently high in both hands. As she ran, her wide-brimmed hat blew off, although she didn’t seem to notice. Her blond hair shone in the sunlight, and more memories trickled through his brain.
Barely a step away, just short of slamming into him, she stopped, hands outstretched. Tears welled in her anxious eyes. “West,” she said, her voice breaking. “Rob. Are you—are you well?”
“Better now,” he said. “Mother.”
Her face convulsed and she flung her arms around him. Rob returned her embrace and buried his face in her hair and remembered—lilacs. His mother had always smelled of lilacs. As a boy he had helped her pick the flowers in the spring to perfume her soaps and pomades. He remembered walking in the gardens, holding her hand, resting his head on her lap as they sat on a bench.
“You’re home at last.” She released him and unabashedly wiped at her eyes. Silently Tom offered a handkerchief, and she took it with a little laugh. “I feared—and then Ihoped—and there was no word—and you, Thomas, youfoundhim. You wonderful boy!” She threw herself at Tom, who good-naturedly let himself be embraced and kissed on the cheek. He rolled his eyes at Rob over her shoulder, but Rob couldn’t say anything. His chest felt tight as memories spilled through his stupid damaged head.
His mother dabbed her eyes again. “Have you seen your father?”
“We’ve barely stepped down from the carriage,” Tom said. “Is he in the house?”
“Yes, somewhere. Agnes!” the duchess called to the servant behind her. “Fetch His Grace immediately!” The woman curtsied and ran off.
“What happened?” She turned to him again, her face softening with concern. “Tom said nothing except that he found you in good health.”
“I wrote a letter!” said Tom in outraged tones. “A long one!”
“Barely a page and almost devoid of information,” his mother shot back. “You’re forgiven now, naturally, but I’ve been beside myself wondering what happened.”
Rob managed a smile. “It’s a long story, Mother.”
“Of course,” she said at once, “and you’re tired from your journey. Come see your father.”
They went inside, and more memories trickled into his brain. The banister they’d slid down. The suits of armor they’d tried on. The polished marble floor that had proved as slick as a frozen pond, once Will spilled a bucket of soapy water on it.
A tall, broad-chested man appeared at the top of the stairs. “Rowland,” called the duchess, “Thomas found him.”
Rob looked up in time to see the blaze of joy that flashed across his father’s face before the duke stormed down the stairs and gripped his arms. “By God,” he said softly, studying Rob’s face. “We feared for you, lad.”
He smiled. “I heard.”
