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“Circumstances. Yes, circumstances have a way of changing everything, don’t they? You look so like your mother, Georgina…” Pellton mumbled the rest inaudibly, but then the sharp sounds of rustling broke over the mumbles. The noise alerted Jeremy to peer out from behind the bookcase to see what offense Pellton was perpetrating now.
“Release me at once, sir,” Georgina demanded, pulling her hand back from where Pellton gripped it.
“Is there a problem?” Jeremy called loudly, stepping out into the middle of the room.
Both of them turned their heads to the sound of Jeremy’s voice at the same time. Jeremy couldn’t be sure if Georgina remembered he was in the room or not, but Pellton sure as hell was surprised to see him.
Jeremy pointed his gaze to where Pellton was clutching her. The weasel sneered at him. Georgina yanked her hand free with a jerk and glared at Pellton.
“Yes, I do have a problem. I suddenly feel like I might be sick! Excuse me.” She turned away and swept out of the room.
Jeremy cocked an eyebrow. “That was quite the feat, Pellton. You made Miss Russell sick.”
Pellton squinted his eyes and struck just like the viper he was. “Oh, bugger you, Greymont!” he spat and then walked out, leaving the library peacefully quiet once more.
Jeremy went to where Georgina had been sitting. Her book lay on the side table and was still open to the place she’d been reading.
He picked it up and read the page…
* * * *
It took a great deal to rile Jeremy, but it didn’t require much when Edgar Pellton was involved. The ridiculous toad irritated the hell out of him just by breathing. Mostly when he fawned after Georgina like he was doing right now! The scene was nearly an exact replay of yesterday in the library.
Pellton had Georgina trapped on a chaise, where she was attempting to read another book. Jeremy also saw how Georgina turned away from the oaf, affecting a cut, when he’d tried to engage her in what was no doubt, again, some topic inappropriate for polite conversation.
Good for her, Jeremy thought, when he saw Georgina cut Pellton. The line of her neck looked so fine turned in profile, away from her tormentor. But Jeremy wasn’t the only person who noticed. Mr. Russell had also been watching his daughter. And he took her to task for what he saw her do.
Mr. Russell asked to speak with her and then firmly backed her into a corner where he began to quietly chastise her for insulting a guest.
Jeremy saw how Georgina’s face grew stricken, how she crumbled under the displeasure of her father. After a few moments of this, she put a hand to her mouth and fled the room in tears. Mr. Russell looked about to have an apoplexy, before going to pour himself a double whiskey. Pellton looked rather pleased, a spiteful little smirk cracking out the seam of his serpent lips.
Jeremy couldn’t believe it. Her misery was apparent, as was Pellton’s debauchery. Why in the hell would any father push a daughter into marriage with such a beast? Pellton would mistreat her. Everyone must have heard the whisperings of his depraved leanings. Or maybe Mr. Russell did not know. Jeremy knew John Russell preferred the hunts and house parties of country life to the social doings of London. He guessed it was possible Georgina’s father did not know the reality of Pellton’s nasty predilections.
Jeremy gave his card game another five minutes before excusing himself. Ten more passed before he actually found her.
She sat in the solarium, on a bench amid the tropical green leaves of plants that could never survive the English climate if exposed to the natural elements. Her tears had stopped, but now she looked broken and defeated. Even in her misery, Georgina was beautiful to him. She wore a silvery blue dress tonight, the shine of the fabric glowing in the lamplight.
“Not enjoying the evening, Miss Georgina?” He spoke quietly so as not to startle her. “I saw you leave.” He came closer. “You appeared distressed.” He sat down next to her on the bench.
She kept silent at first. They just sat next to each other, contemplating in the quietness of the exotic plants that surrounded them, and their clean, earthy smell.
It seemed like an age before she spoke. “Wouldn’t you be?” Sad, hazel eyes lifted to glitter at him.
Jeremy tilted his head in question.
“If you were on display like a prized bird to be bagged by the best shot? In this case, the ‘best shot’ is repulsive to me. I hate it!”
“What do you hate more, the part about being on display or the quality of the candidate trying to ‘bag’ you?”
“There is only one candidate, and Papa does not care for my feelings against his suit.”
“Have you agreed to anything?”
“No, and I don’t plan on it either, but I am afraid Papa will find a way to force me.” Her composure crumbled then, and the tears came. “I can’t bear it if he gives me to Lord Pell—”
Jeremy didn’t hesitate to pull her into his arms. He held her close and felt the quivering coming from her body, right through their clothes, straight to his heart. God, she felt good. And in that instant he knew.
She feels right.
