Page 32 of The Season for Loving
“Yes, I always keep my wits about me,” she said in an adorably smug voice. “Bertie taught me how to swim when I was a little girl—when we spent the summers in the country.” She cocked an eyebrow at her brother. “I was very good at holding my breath. Better than you, as I recall.”
“Good Lord, I’d forgotten that,” Bertie said. “Seems I’ve forgotten a lot of things.”
“Like the fact that I’m perfectly capable of making rational decisions for myself?” she asked. “Like who I want to marry?”
Fergus had been hoping to speak to Bertie alone first, but Georgie had clearly decided to take matters into her own hands. And perhaps that was how it should be. If there was anything he’d learned over the last two difficult years, it was that you must listen to and trust the people you love. That had been a hard lesson for him, but now Georgie somehow made it seem easy.
Bertie let out an exasperated sigh. “I think that’s something Mr. Haddon and I should discuss on our own.”
“Certainly not,” Georgie said. “You’ll just bully him.”
“No, he won’t, sweetheart. I won’t let him.” Fergus started to rise. “Mr. Gage, I’m happy—”
Georgie interrupted by yanking him back down. “Don’t move, Fergus. This is between Bertie and me.”
She’d pulled on him so hard that he almost toppled off the edge of the chaise. Righting himself, Fergus had to swallow a laugh. God, she was wonderful. “Of course, Georgie. Whatever you say.”
She gave him an engaging little grin before going back to scowling at her brother.
Unfortunately, Bertie scowled back. “You do recall that I’m your guardian. You cannot marry without my permission, at least not until you’re of age.”
Georgie stiffened beside him, and Fergus lost any impulse to laugh.
“Bertie, why are you kicking up such a fuss?” Eliza demanded. “Fergus is a perfect gentleman, and it’s clear he’s devoted to Georgie.”
Bertie looked genuinely unhappy. “I’m not trying to be difficult, I swear. But I have a responsibility to Georgie. To protect her.”
Again, Fergus started to rise. “Mr. Gage, I think—”
Georgie hauled him back down again. “Sit, Fergus. And be quiet.”
“But…” When her eyes narrowed to irritated slits, Fergus held up his hands. She clearly needed to do this, and he needed to let her do it, no matter the outcome.
Georgie folded her hands in her lap and looked up at Bertie. “All right, dear. Please tell me what’s worrying you about Fergus.”
Bertie shook his head. “It’s not about him, per se. I know he’s a good man, and I realize now that he loves you.”
“Then what is the issue?”
“It’s his family,” Bertie said in a tight voice. “Has he told you about them?”
Damn.
Out of the corner of his eye, Fergus saw Will exchange a glance with his wife. Evelyn slipped from the room.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Georgie said. Then her brow cleared. “Oh, you’re talking about that silly duel, when Fergus challenged his cousin. I know about that, Bertie. He explained it all to me and said what a mistake it was.”
“I don’t care about that,” Bertie said. “Most men make stupid mistakes when they’re young.”
Georgie cast Fergus a puzzled glance. “What is he talking about?”
He glanced up at Bertie, who gave a somber nod. Sighing, he took Georgie’s hand. This was the moment he’d been dreading, but he couldn’t put it off any longer. “It’s about my mother,” he said. “She’s…she’s ill.”
She blinked. “I didn’t realize your mother was still alive.”
“She is,” he said tersely.
Georgie studied him for a few moments, then nodded. “All right. What kind of illness does she suffer from?”
