Georgianna: The Last Real Duchess (The Real Duchesses of London) (9 page)

Being strong would be hard, but she'd done hard things before.

Life was hard.

Steely resolve filled her. It was time to show her husband just what kind of woman she was.

Of course, a woman, even a strong woman could always use a little help.

The first genuine smile of the day curved her lips as she considered. It was time to call for reinforcements. She would send letters to her friends. They'd all been through man troubles and could offer advice.

#

It was hard to make peace with a woman who couldn't be found. Annie had asked for a tray last night at dinner and this morning she'd gone to pay calls in the village before he even knew she'd risen. Had she timed her escape for while he was riding?

He'd never thought of his wife as being full of guile, but he was beginning to wonder.

Richard looked up from the estate books and stared out the window at the sunny afternoon. The day was warm for the season and the gardens were already to bloom. Was that where Annie would be found? She'd always loved her flowers and had a magic touch with them. Nobody else had roses blooming in March.

He forced his eyes back to the page before him. The columns of numbers added correctly – as he had known they would. His brother had taken wonderful care of the estates. Richard might have some innovative ideas on planting, but he couldn't fault Paul's management. Everything he examined was well cared for – and profitable. If the numbers were to be believed each year was better than the last.

His eyes felt tired. Paul had never mentioned how well things were going – and Richard had to confess he'd never paid attention to how the larger estates prospered. He wished he had. He'd like to go back and congratulate his brother on what he'd accomplished. The estates had certainly not been running this smoothly when their father had died.

Regret filled him. Regret for so many things. Things that could not be fixed.

But some things could be.

He'd known for years that he needed to reconcile with Georgianna, but only now, after his brother's death, did he understand just how short life could be. He could not wait any longer. It was time he learned to make his wife happy.

But blast, what did Georgianna want?

She wanted him to care for his son.

No, that wasn't quite right. She wanted him to show that he cared for his son.

He glanced at the clock on the mantle. If the boy kept the same schedule as yesterday he should be rising from his nap just about now. What did he do when he got up? Richard tried to remember his own childhood, but beyond toast fingers, soldiers, and being corrected for running through the halls he didn't have many memories of those early years.

Well, there was a simple answer to his lack of knowledge. He would go and find out.

#

Soldiers were definitely involved – they might even be the same soldiers Richard had played with as a child – but the method of play was far from that he remembered. Robert delighted in having the soldiers lined up and then rolling a large ball at them until they lay still on the floor. It was more a game of bowls than of strategy and war. It was hard to mind when a shrill laugh of delight met every fallen comrade.

It didn't matter how many times Richard lined up the little tin men Robert was always happy to knock them down again – and always with that shriek of joy that declared all right in the world. The game should have been boring. If anybody had described it to Richard he would have thought he'd be bored within ten minutes, if not less. Instead, he felt as if he could play for hours. Each time his son patted the rug to indicate it was time to stand the men up again Richard could only smile.

Perhaps Georgianna was correct. Perhaps he had been missing something.

As if the thought had summoned her, she suddenly appeared in the doorway. Had her mouth actually dropped open at the sight of
him? He did have the feeling that if he hadn't seen her, hadn't met her eye, that she would have slipped away as quietly as she'd arrived.

"I didn't expect to find you here," she said.

"And here I imagined you'd been searching for hours. I know how you delight in my company.” He tried to keep his tone light, to be clear it was humor and reproach that he sought.

She was silent for a moment and her eyes looked wistful.

"Mama, look," Robert chortled as he sent the ball rolling at the line of soldiers – and then the shriek of glee.

Georgianna's face lit into a smile like he'd never seen. Her skirts swirled as she sank down beside their son. "Do you want me to line them up again, little lamb."

"No. Him.” Robert pointed directly at Richard. The warmth that filled him caught him by surprise.

How could the look of trust on one small face bring so much joy?

Dutifully, he picked up the first soldier, one of Napoleon's best, and placed him in the line of fire.

"I notice none of our own are joining the fray," Georgianna said not meeting his gaze.

"Robert and I reached an agreement. Our men watch from above. I saw enough of those uniforms spread in the mud. I don't even like to see a toy one mowed down."

"Death by giant rolling ball can be devastating – even when they rise again and again.” Her voice was soft and he sensed concern behind the light words.

"Is he always so bloodthirsty?" he asked. "Should I be training him for the army instead of the duchy?"

"Perhaps it would have been best if he'd been a second son, but no. He just likes knocking things down. Build him a tower of blocks or cards and he will take just as much glee in the crash. Nanny assures me it is quite normal in boys, indeed of children his age.

This was going well. Far better than he had expected. Surely, Georgianna must see that they belonged together as a family.

"He is a beautiful boy. You have done well," he said, reaching out to stroke her hand.

She drew her hand back. "I do not know that I have much to do with it. I was gone for far to long. I should have come back sooner."

"You cannot hold that against yourself."

"I do not know why you say that." Her eyes flashed up at him. "I should never have left him to begin with. My dreams were foolish."

Her lips had tensed and he knew a sudden and great desire to brush a finger across them, to soften them. He swallowed, remembering all the things she could do with those lips, all the things he had taught her once she'd outgrown her blushes. Not that she'd ever outgrown them – it was one of the things he had loved about her.

If only he could express how he felt in words. Explain how he truly did want to start again, want to put things back to how they had been those first weeks of marriage – only without his anger and resentment at the situation he'd found himself in.

How did you tell a woman that if you could have chosen you would have chosen
her? It was the lack of choice he'd found frustrating.

"Again.” Robert's voice interrupted his thoughts. With a slight grin for Georgianna, he began to line the men up again.

"Dreams are never foolish," he said quietly, keeping his gaze focused on the neat line of tin men.

"They are when they cause pain.” Georgianna stood suddenly, her skirts all a
swirl. "I'll leave you to play. I'll visit later when our son is ready for a story."

"No, I came to see . . ."

But she was already gone. Her soft tread trailed down the stairs.

#

What was Richard playing at?

He had never acted this way before – ever. And he'd driven her away from Robbie. She valued these afternoon hours she spent with her son, but today had been too painful, too much a portrait of what should have been.

Blast. She was not going to cry, not even a little.

There was plenty she could do with the extra hours. She could talk to the gardener, plan next week’s menus, write another letter to her friends . . .

Hmmm, that made her think. She'd sent her best friend, Isabella, an endlessly long letter yesterday asking for help. Isabella had dealt with her own difficult duke and Annie could only pray she'd have some advice.

What did a woman do when her husband suddenly offered her all her dreams and she didn't trust him even the tiniest bit. Every time she'd taken a chance on Richard he'd disappointed her.

She wasn't sure she could risk it again.

Was she was wavering. Had she really just admitted the possibility that she might risk it?

No. She'd locked up her heart and she'd keep it that way. The man didn't even care enough to call her Annie – and she'd told him a thousand times that she preferred it. He didn't really want to start over with her. He wanted Georgianna. Georgianna, the lady, the duchess.

Plain Annie had never been good enough for him.

But, he had looked sweet playing with Robbie. Patience had never been his strong point, but he'd lined up the soldiers again and again without complaint – maybe even with enjoyment.

She wished she understood, but then she'd never understood him. Every time she thought she knew what he was thinking he surprised her – and rarely in a good way.

Would it be unduchesslike to stamp her foot? Annie was afraid that it would be and the last thing she wanted was for Richard to know he had upset her. As long as he thought she was unmoved perhaps she could persuade herself that she didn't care, that it was only when he fastened those dark eyes upon her that she thawed. She refused to feel the abandoned wife any longer. She would never again give him the chance to make her feel like she was worth less than dirty wash water.

She was a duchess and she would behave like one.

Pulling herself as straight as a bedpost she glided down the stairs. She would write more letters, but she would not complain as she had yesterday, instead she would pretend that the world was just as it should be. Perhaps if she managed to pretend long enough, hard enough, it would be.

How in the world did he believe they could start over now?

Even before the thought had finished there was the clatter of a carriage pulling up the long cobbled drive. Who could it be? Richard had not mentioned any guests and she was not expecting anyone from the village.

She hoped there was nothing wrong. Turning back toward the main entry, she sped her pace, her mind beginning to fill with awful scenarios. Could somebody be injured? One of the workmen in the village? A child? The way her day had gone her mind was most open to pessimistic turns. No, none of that made sense – unless there was some problem with the planting and they needed Richard. Surely word had spread and everyone knew that he was home.

She reached the door at the same time as the porter and stood back as he opened it.

A fine dark carriage was drawing up, a beautifully matched team of grays pulling it. Who could that be? There was a crest on the door, but she could not quite make it out. The carriage pulled to a stop, and a groom jumped down, dropping the step and opening the door.

Elizabeth swept out, looking every inch the countess, her eyes smiling and her lips twitching with glee. "I do hope you don't mind a surprise guest. Westhampton is off looking at fields of the new corn he brought from South America and I thought I might go insane if I stayed home – and so I am here. I sensed that you were a little down when you last wrote. And no wonder, stuck out here – I'd as soon accompany Westhampton on his voyages."

Had Elizabeth already received her letter? Had she talked to Isabella? No. That was impossible. She'd only written yesterday.

Elizabeth kept talking, not giving Annie a chance to answer. "Now I know you weren't expecting me, but I do hope you're not mad. I promise we shall have a wonderful time. I shall be the very best houseguest. You are glad to see me, aren't you?"

Annie had never heard Elizabeth sound so unsure. Even in the midst of all the troubles that had plagued them the previous summer, Elizabeth had stood strong and tall, never revealing how the gossip had hurt her. And then there had been all the gossip following Elizabeth's marriage. Annie might feel the abandoned wife, but Elizabeth truly had been – granted that was all behind her now. Annie had rarely seen a couple as happy Elizabeth and Westhampton. Unless? "There is nothing wrong is there? You don't mind that Westhampton is away?"

Elizabeth smiled, although it did not quite reach her eyes. "Yes, of course. Everything is fine. I do mind that he is away, but I sometimes mind when he goes to the next room. It is quite annoying to love one's husband, but one learns to live with it."

"I wouldn't know," Annie spoke the words without thought, only then aware that Elizabeth's gaze had focused behind her.

Knowing what she would see Annie glanced over her shoulder.

Richard stood at the bottom of the stairs, a storm upon his face.

Chapter Seven

"That did not go well," Elizabeth said taking a seat on the terrace wall. "I had no idea your husband had returned from London already. I will take myself off. I am sure Annabelle could use company. Her sister is off to Bath for the summer."