Page 71 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“Yes,” said Georgiana softly. “And I realized you were right.”
“My dear.” Lady Sidlow moved to the edge of her chair and reached for her hand, almost anxiously. “In no way did I wish to disrupt your engagement.”
“No? Whatdidyou wish?” This was interesting, Georgiana thought. She would have sworn Lady Sidlow would be pleased, perhaps even gloat at being right. The woman looked almost worried, though.
“I wished... I hoped you would be more on guard, and not give your love so freely. I hoped you would insist he change his behavior and become more...” She hesitated.
“Faithful? I know he’s been to visit loose women,” said Georgiana frankly. “Is that what you mean?”
Lady Sidlow jerked in horror. “Please do not speak of things like that!”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now. He is free to do entirely as he pleases now.”
Lady Sidlow closed her eyes, and appeared to be struggling for words. “Have you told Lord Wakefield yet?”
She nodded. “I’ve written the letter to him already.”
The older woman sighed. “I suppose we cannot keep it from him.”
“Why would I?” she asked in surprise. “He must know. If I don’t tell him, Sterling will.”
“No, no, of course we must tell him.” Lady Sidlow reached for the teapot and filled her cup. She took a long sip, and seemed somewhat restored by it. “I don’t suppose this decision was taken because another gentleman has caught your eye?”
For some inexplicable reason she thought of Rob. “Of course not!”
Lady Sidlow’s eyebrows went up at her vehemence. “Very well! It wouldn’t be a crime if you had. I only wondered if I should expect any gentlemen to call.”
Georgiana calmed down. “Not to my knowledge.” Inwardly she cursed herself for still thinking of Rob. It did not help to know he was back in London, and attending social events at an alarming pace. Why couldn’t he have stayed in Lancashire for another month or so? She’d suffered enough anxiety this summer to last an entire year.
“Well.” Lady Sidlow set down her empty cup. “We shall have to remedy that, then.”
“Where do we seek our pleasures tonight?” asked Tom, rubbing his hands together.
Rob finished tying his cravat and took the pin from Jacobs, who was standing in for Hobbes. He stabbed it into his neckcloth. “I am attending the theater. What do you plan to do?”
“The theater as well, of course.”
“I thought you disliked theater.” Jacobs held up his jacket for him to don. “When I went last week you had no interest.” Rob took his gloves from the manservant and walked out of the dressing room.
For several days now Rob had gone everywhere: the opera, the theater, a soiree, even a ball. Tom had gone with him most of the time, although once he assured himself Georgiana wasn’t there, he’d generally taken himself off. Rob was ready to punch his brother in the face to get rid of him.
Tom trailed down the stairs behind him. “I’m allowed to change my mind. I didn’t care to see that production.”
“And you have a fiendish interest in tonight’s?”
“I might. What is it?”
Rob glared at him and took his hat and coat from the butler. “Good night, Tom.”
His brother only laughed and followed him out the door. “If you decide to be more genial, I might be persuaded to share some intelligence I received.”
Rob paused with one foot on the carriage step. “What intelligence?”
Tom put up his hands at the query. “Nothing about any lady. About a man.”
Rob stepped into the carriage and waved one hand wearily at the other seat. “Who?”
He fully expected his brother to name Charles Winston or Frederick Forester. Perhaps even something related to the fellows who’d beaten him. Instead Tom smirked and said, “Robert Pelham, Viscount Sterling.”
