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At this moment, nothing of her sensual and charming lover stared back at her, only a piercing ruthlessness that had alarm burning through her veins.
She took a deep, restorative breath. Everything she knew about this man indicated his family was important to him, and though the idea of a child was new and unexpected, she could see the curl of hunger in his gaze for it. “Rhys, I need time. This is so unexpected…I never believed I could have another child. I never imagined this was a possible outcome of our affair, or I wouldn’t have been so weak in my desires.”
A silence fell between them thick and heavy. The cruel lines around his lips softened as he regarded her. “Do you love me?”
An inarticulate cry spilled from her. She wasn’t reared to fall in love, but for duty and honor to her family. “Rhys, please, I…”
“I love you, Georgiana.”
Her world shattered at her feet at his unadorned declaration. The joy, trepidation, and the vulnerability clutching at her heart felt terrible.
“I’ve loved my family for years. I bend the laws of society to help them find their place in this world, and I will continue to do so, even if the ton tries to cut them. I am not a man of romantic words and such, but I confess what I feel for anyone else is a mere shadow of the feelings you inspire in me. A simple smile from you makes me tremble to lay the world at your feet. Marry me, and let me deal with society’s rage and derision. I assure you, my lady, I will not allow it to harm you and our child.”
The latent ruthlessness in his promise shook her, and she understood he would use his ties as The Broker to see her position secure. Her throat went tight with fear. Did he not understand how easy it was for the more powerful lords of society to vanquish him if they thought him a threat? The lords of England were the law. While Rhys could bend the law and operate within its murky, shadowy world, they were the makers. The ton would find nothing within Rhys to esteem, even if they enjoyed his unrivaled wealth. They would find his cunning intellect, his ruthlessness terribly uncomfortable, a definite threat, for he could not disguise it.
“I cannot,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I only wanted a discreet affair, that is all. The fact I am with child changes nothing. I cannot…I will not marry you.”
Silence throbbed in the room like a wound.
His expression shuttered, all desire for more leaching from his expression. “It seems I made a mistake, Your Grace. Forgive me,” he said with chilling civility. “I shall never approach you again with my unwanted sentiments.” His voice was dangerously low and tinged with scorn. In his eyes, she saw the absolute truth. He would keep his word. They would never kiss or dance or laugh and love again.
He grabbed his jacket from off the chair, slipped it on, and moved toward her windows. Her heart cracked, and she shivered as a cold gust blew into the room. A sob hiccupped from her at the loss that tore through her.
Do you love me? He’d demanded an answer, as if love was enough, and that was all that a person needed to flourish in this world. She had tried to stay reserved, to draw on the cold decorum which had saved her so many times. Instead, a wild, unimaginable pain clutched her heart in a fierce grip. She felt breathless, terrified as she stared at his retreating back. I hurt.
She tried to bury the swell of emotions, the pain, doubt, and confusion. A raw sound spilled from her throat when he disappeared through the windows, a specter fading with the breaking dawn.
Pain and sorrow invaded every inch of her body. She would survive without him in her life, but she would never be whole.
Chapter Seventeen
A week had passed since Georgiana had ended all correspondence with Rhys. Instead of traveling back to town, she had stayed in the country, needing to be away from the watchful eyes of the ton while she figured out what to do. Earlier, she had read with Nicolas and had taken a walk in the park with him. Though it was quite early, she was exhausted and had retired to her chamber for a nap after a light luncheon. Sharp assaults of heartache prevented her slumber.
She tossed aside the covers and donned her peach day dress, which had been casually discarded on the chaise. She exited her room and went to Nicolas’s room. He, too, had been encouraged to nap after his exuberance earlier. He was sleeping peacefully. After brushing a light kiss on his forehead, careful not to disturb him, she slipped quietly down the stairs to the bright and airy music room. She often took refuge in music when she was at the mercy of her emotions, and the room had been her sanctuary of sorts the past few days. Georgiana sat on the well-padded bench, lifted the lid of the pianoforte, and closed her eyes.
Tears burned beneath her lids, and pushing down the riotous uncertainty, she played until her fingers trembled with exhaustion.
“You should treat us to something less mournful,” her mother said from behind her.
Georgiana stiffened and glanced at the clock. She had been playing for over two hours. Her fingers ached, and the empty well inside had not been filled in the slightest. “I cannot, Mamma.”
A peal of laughter echoed close by, and she smiled. Her son had awoken and was once again being boisterous.
The countess drifted closer. “Simon and I are preparing to depart for town, but I wanted to speak with you before we took our leave.”
Her mother and Simon had not left Meadowbrook Park since their arrival before Rhys’s last visit, and her mother had been hovering and casting her curious glances. Georgiana lightly skimmed her fingers over the keys, creating several discordant notes.
“What is it, Mother?”
“Dr. Monroe called upon you yesterday. Are you well?”
Georgiana was not ready to reveal her delicate condition. She doubted she would ever be ready. Dr. Monroe had indeed confirmed she was with child. Though there had been speculation in his gaze, he’d only recommended daily walks and for her to intake more milk, with a promise to visit her often. Georgiana slightly turned to her mother. “I’m quite fine. Just a slight stomach upset.”
Her mother’s mouth flattened into a thin line, and she squared her shoulders. “Georgiana, dear, your skin is paler than normal, you cast up your accounts yesterday at breakfast, and you drank no wine at last night’s dinner.”
A dreadful silence descended. Slowly closing the lid on the pianoforte, she turned around on the bench and faced her mother. “I fail to understand this line of discourse.” Though she knew, God, she knew.
Her mother gave her a sharp, reproving glance. “You are with child,” she said softly. Instead of appearing cold and distant, her mother’s eyes glowed with worry and love.
Georgiana’s throat tightened. “I am.”
Her mother visibly struggled to swallow. “Is it too much to hope the father is the Marquess of Locksley? I am aware you’ve had a few outings with him.”
“He is not the father,” she admitted quietly.
Her mother’s expression grew troubled. “I must then presume you were in liaison with Mr. Tremayne? And that baseless speculation by the newspapers had some merit?”
Georgiana’s blush was enough confirmation for the countess.
She sauntered gracefully to sit in the chaise closest to the windows. “There will be an awful scandal if you marry a man such as Rhys Tremayne. I do hope you are not contemplating such a solution.”
Georgiana stood and made her way to the windows that overlooked the large and beautifully tended gardens. Several birds played amid the artfully scattered flowers and small shrubs, merrily chirping their sweet melodies. A burning
need bloomed inside her to lift her dress scandalously above her knees, climb through the open windows, away from this conversation, and join the birds who hardly seemed like they had any cares in the world. She would lie upon the grass, uncaring about the stains that would damage her dress, lift her face to the warm rays of the sun, and pray for guidance.
“My dear, you are well loved by society. You are a great patron of the arts, and where you lead, many ladies and gentlemen follow. Would you throw that away to only be known as the duchess who married a common man? You would tarnish your reputation and the respect and admiration of your acquaintances?”
A mirthless smile crossed Georgiana’s lips. “You were always the anvil to Father’s hammer, Mother. Nothing has ever been more important than our position in society, certainly not my happiness.”
A sound rustled, and she whirled around to see Simon hovering in the doorway, a white-knuckled grip on the knob. He gently closed the door and moved farther into the room. From his pained expression, she surmised he’d heard. “Is it true?”
“Yes.”
He flinched. “I warned you the man was a lion, and you were too naive to listen!”
She heard the ragged edge of guilt. Simon would blame himself for not protecting her. “I assure you, I walked into Mr. Tremyane’s arms with my eyes wide open.”
A shocked gasp came from her mother.
Her brother stared at her as if he did not know her. “There is only one solution to this mess, surely you see that.”
“No, I don’t.” And that was the crux of her pain. She felt lost, uncertain, and she despised the state. She missed Rhys dreadfully. She hurt for him and to be with him. How beautiful the world had been when they had been ensconced within it together.
“Go away, discreetly, perhaps to Paris. Bear your child in secret and give it to a good family. Then return home to Nicolas.”
