Page 56 of When the Marquess Was Mine
The duke laughed, turning to thump Tom on the back. “Well done, Tom, well done! I knew you would run him to ground.” He wheeled back to Rob. “What the blazes happened? You disappeared without a trace and your mother worried about murderers and press gangs.”
“He’s tired,” said the duchess. “We’ll discuss it over dinner.”
The duke scowled but threw up his hands. “All right! You rousted me from my study, then tell me I’ve got to wait to hear the tale.” He glanced at Tom. “You know, eh?”
Tom wore a faintly smug grin. “I know some.”
“Well, come tell me that bit so I’m prepared at dinner.” Rowland looked at Rob again. They were the same height, so Rob could see the genuine concern and relief in his father’s eyes. “Good to have you home, son,” he said gruffly.
“Thank you, sir,” he replied.
The duke nodded. “Have you told Will?”
The duchess’s hand flew to her throat. “No! Someone must go fetch him—he’s taken out the gray gelding, I believe.”
“I’ll send someone to find him,” said Tom.
“Thank you, dear.” The duchess smiled at him, then clasped Rob’s hand once more. “Your room is ready. Rest as long as you like, dear. Oh, thank God you’re home!”
He promised he would, and his mother hurried off to find the housekeeper, calling back that he must want a bath and that she would tell Cook to send up his favorite refreshments. The duke’s secretary was lingering on the stairs, and Rowland grumbled about not being able to welcome his own son home without being pestered by the fellow, but went back up the stairs after extracting a promise to hear all at dinner.
Rob and Tom were left alone in the soaring main hall. “Welcome home,” said Tom wryly.
“It’s good to be back.” Rob did not add that he’d rather have been with Georgiana, wherever she was now.
As if hearing his thoughts, Tom cocked one brow. “I suppose we’re not going to make mention of Lady Georgiana’s fanciful stories.”
His mother must know her. The year Rob reached his twenty-fifth birthday, his mother had seemed to memorize, virtually overnight, a catalog of every unmarried young woman above the age of fifteen in Britain. She would say, at random times, that she longed to see all four of her sons happily married. They had all disappointed her thus far.
“No,” he said to his brother. “You’re not to mention her name.”
Tom snorted. “Not to mention—?”
“No,” he cut in again. “If anyone tells Mother about Georgiana, I shall do it.”
Tom’s brow arched. “And will you?”
At some point. Rob had no idea how or when, but he thought his brain would burst if he never spoke to anyone about her. “Not your business.”
His brother’s other brow went up. “No? I think it’s quite a tale. I might dine out for a fortnight on it, now that I think about it. The week West thought he was someone else—and relished it!”
“Don’t you have a regiment missing you?” Rob made his way toward the stairs.
“Compassionate leave.” Tom dogged his footsteps. “To search for the body of my late brother, tragically murdered by footpads. Or, perhaps, assassinated and resurrected by a scheming minx.”
“Have some compassion on your resurrected brother, and go back to the army.”
“Don’t fancy it just yet. Lingering concern for your health and all that.”
Rob made a rude gesture and hoisted himself up the stairs one painful step at a time. His leg had got stiff in the carriage and now felt weaker than ever. He should be delighted to be home but instead he felt...
Trapped.
Chapter 19
London, once the center of the world, seemed tiresome and dreary to Georgiana. Lady Sidlow clung to her grudge for several frosty days, but Georgiana didn’t have the spirit to be annoyed. Dutifully she went on calls with Lady Sidlow, and sat in the drawing room when they had callers in Cavendish Square. Normally she chafed at the company Lady Sidlow preferred, and tried to get out of it. Now she had nowhere else she preferred to be, so there was no reason to protest.
Finally Lady Sidlow remarked on it. “You’re very quiet and out of sorts lately. You barely said a word to Lady Capet.”
