The Rake (30 page)

When Tristan returned home for the afternoon break at Parliament, he went straight to his office. He knew damned well that he'd never find nine hundred quid over the next three months, but he needed enough blunt to give himself a few days of breathing space—to plan how in the world he would maneuver Georgiana into marrying him, without ruining her in the process.

"My lord?"
Dawkins scratched at the office door.

"What is it?"

"I am to inform you that Lady Georgiana is here, visiting Miss
Milly
and Miss Edwina."

Tristan bolted to his feet and strode to the door, slamming it open so quickly the butler nearly toppled backward. "Who told you to inform me about this visit?"

"Lady Georgiana did, my lord. They are in the morning room. She has been there for some time, but I don't believe she was aware that you had returned."

"And why didn't you tell her I was here?"

"I was in the pantry, my lord, reviewing the larder contents."

"You mean you were sleeping in the pantry."

The butler snapped up straighten "My lord, I—"

"Never mind."

If she was here, then she'd spoken with Amelia. Part of him hoped she'd convinced the chit to give up the stockings and the letter; with nothing held over Georgiana, he could ask for her hand today. The other part of him, the part that wanted to sweep in like a medieval knight and free his damsel from the dragon, hoped that Amelia had turned her down. He'd done little enough for her that this felt like his responsibility.

"Good afternoon," he said, strolling into the morning room.

She was seated between the aunties, all of them laughing. As she met his gaze, though, he knew that she'd been unsuccessful. Whatever she might try to tell him, her eyes never
lied
.

"Good afternoon," she answered. "Your aunts have just been telling me about Dragon's antics."

"Yes. Thank God he's not any larger, or he'd be tearing the house down around our ears." He walked closer. "Aunties, may I steal
Georgie
for a moment?"

"Oh, I suppose so,"
Milly
said, chuckling. "You always steal away our prettiest visitors."

"Really?"
Georgiana murmured, as she moved past him into the hallway. "And how many pretty visitors have you stolen?"

"Just you.
What happened?"

Georgiana glanced up and down the hallway. Reading her reluctance, he motioned her into the library and shut the door behind them as she sat on the couch.

"Tell me."

"I thought you might be here when I arrived," she said, her expression agitated. "I completely forgot about Parliament today, and I was late going to see Amelia after my stroll with Bit. She was holding a luncheon party for her friends, and I don't know what she might have said to them, but—"

"Just a moment," Tristan said, sitting back on the arm of the couch. "Could you go back to 'my stroll with Bit'?"

"Oh." Humor reappeared briefly in her eyes. "I take it you didn't know he came to see me, then."

"He never talks. How am I supposed to know anything?"

"You might have told me that he was held in a French prison and not permitted to utter a sound," she countered. "No wonder he finds it difficult to do so now."

Tristan sat where he was, trying to absorb what she'd said and reconcile it with what he'd observed in his brother. "My God," he muttered.

She touched his arm. "You didn't know, did you?"

"No. I didn't. How long was
he ..
."

"Seven months."

Seven months.
"Was he even at Waterloo?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

He fought a scowl, anger at the damned politics which had sent his brother to France and had created a bureaucracy so ineffective he hadn't even been aware that Robert might have been missing from his company for seven damned months. "Only because they pulled five musket balls out of him, and I'd like to know how they got there. Jesus."

"Tristan," Georgiana murmured, "he's alive, and he'll tell you when he's ready."

Drawing a deep breath, he nodded, wrapping his fingers around hers. "Thank you."

"No need."

Tristan shook himself. Bit would come around; Georgiana's problem was more immediate. "Just tell me you have good news about your mission."

Concern became exasperation in her green eyes. "You know, when I first saw you and Amelia together I thought that the poor dear didn't stand a chance, and that she desperately needed to be rescued," Georgiana said, twining and untwining her fingers with his. "I had no idea she was the person least in need of rescuing in all England."

"She wouldn't return your things."

"Oh, she's more than happy to return them, once the two of you are married."

The glance she sent him spoke more strongly than words ever could. She wanted to know if he intended to marry Amelia, and she didn't want him to do so. Tristan's heart jolted. It would kill him if she slipped out of his fingers again.

"Then we need an alternate plan, because I am not going to marry that witch."

"
Hm
.
And what would you suggest?" She smoothed her skirt. "If it's all the same to you, I would prefer that the... secrecy of our relationship to this point remained secret."

"The plan I have would make keeping that secret very difficult," he said slowly, his heart beating so quickly he thought it would burst from his chest.

"Then you must think of something else, Tristan. I couldn't stand... Oh, it's
all my
fault, anyway. Perhaps I deserve to be ruined."

"No, you don't," he said softly, kneeling at her feet.

Her throat contracted as she swallowed. "Tristan, what—"

"Marry me, Georgiana. That news will drown any gossip she might attempt to spread."

She stood so quickly she nearly knocked him onto his backside. "But that—"

"But that what?" he repeated, standing. "It's perfect."

"But..." She paced to the window and back, wringing her hands. "But when you were so nice to me after... that night, I thought you might be ... trying to engage my affections again to get revenge."

Tristan blinked. "At the beginning, the thought might have crossed my mind, but for God's sake, Georgiana, can't you tell now that I'm sincere? That I've been sincere for quite some time?"

Facing him again, she nodded. "But we can't do this," she whispered.

The blood drained from his face.
"Why not?
Why in damnation can't we marry?"

"Because I won't marry you to avoid gossip or blackmail, Tristan.
With the way we began, I couldn't stand wondering whether either of us had been forced into marriage for any reason."

A muscle in his jaw clenched. Georgiana wished she hadn't said it, but it was true. If they married for either guilt or protection they would always resent one another, and she would never be able to trust him completely.

"There's always a reason for marriage," he said, holding her gaze. "You can't hope to avoid all of them."

"But I can avoid this. I won't let you attempt to save me this way. I can save myself."

"Georgiana, don't—"

"No," she broke in, turning for the door. She needed to leave now, before he saw her crying. "I can't marry you, Tristan. Not under these circumstances."

He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around before she was even aware that he'd closed the distance between them. "But under other circumstances, you would."

It wasn't a question, but a statement, and almost a plea. "I might." She pulled away from him and fled out the door.

For
politeness's
sake she should take her leave of the aunts but, blast it all, tears began rolling unbidden down her cheeks again. She hurried downstairs, snatched her bonnet and shawl from a very startled Dawkins, and fled into Aunt Frederica's coach. "Take me home."

"Yes, my lady."

She needed to talk to someone, to tell them what a muck she'd made of everything. If she told Frederica, though, her aunt would probably tell Grey, and then Grey would go after Tristan, and one of them would get hurt. The same would happen if she went to her brother or Emma, and she couldn't go to one of Tristan's brothers. Above everything else, she didn't want to return home weeping yet again. If events would just stop spinning for a few moments, she might have half a chance of getting her bearings.

"Hanley," she said, leaning out of the window again, "please take me to see Lucinda Barrett."

The driver didn't even look perturbed that they'd now set out for Hawthorne House twice and detoured halfway across Mayfair both times. "Yes, my lady."

She would have trusted Evelyn, as well, except that Evelyn always insisted on believing the best about everyone, which would have been little help at this point. Lucinda was nearly as skeptical as she was, and at times more devious. That was exactly the sort of friend she needed right now.

"Lady Georgiana!" Madison, the
Barretts
' butler, exclaimed as he opened the door. "Is something amiss?"

Georgiana wiped at her damp face. "No, no, Madison. I'm fine. Is Lucinda in?"

"I'll inquire, my lady, if you'll wait in the morning room."

He showed her in,
then
vanished. Too agitated to sit, she paced from one window to the other, twisting her hands. This was too much. This entire day was just too much.

"
Georgie
?
What's going on?" Lucinda swept into the room, dressed in her afternoon best.

"I'm sorry," she said, tears obscuring her vision again. She tried not to blink, but that only made it worse. "I didn't realize you were going out. I'll leave."

Lucinda intercepted her and guided her back to the couch. "Of course you won't. Madison, have someone bring us some tea, if you please."

"Yes, miss."

"I don't know why I'm crying," Georgiana said, forcing a smile and swiping at her tears again. "I'm just very frustrated, I suppose."

"Tell me everything," Lucinda said, stripping off her gloves and dropping them onto the end table. The butler reappeared, a footman bearing a tea tray following, and she motioned for them to set down the tea and leave. "And Madison, if Lord Mallory should come calling this afternoon, please inform him that I am regrettably indisposed."

"Yes, Miss Lucinda."

"Mallory?"
Georgiana broke in as the door closed, leaving them in private. "I thought you'd told him you weren't interested."

"I have, several times, but he lets me drive his horses." Lucinda reached over and took Georgiana's hand. "Now, what's happened?"

Now that the time had come, Georgiana wasn't certain how much she wanted to say. She'd spent the last six years keeping her secret; speaking about it was more difficult than she'd expected.

Lucinda seemed to realize that. "Just tell me what you want," she said quietly. "You know nothing will pass outside these walls."

Georgiana took a deep breath. "Tristan proposed to me."

"What?
He what?"

"He asked me to marry him."

Standing, Lucinda poured herself a cup of tea. "It is times like this, I wish women drank brandy. What did you tell him?"

"I told him I couldn't marry him. Not under these circumstances."

"And what circumstances might those be?"

"Oh, dear.
I... gave Tristan some items," she began, fidgeting, "and someone else took them. Now if he refuses to marry this person who took the items, this person will use them to ruin me."

"I see." Lucinda took a sip of her tea and added a lump of sugar. "I'm not trying to pry, but it might be easier for me to help you if you used more nouns and fewer pronouns."