Georgie tilted her chin up even as her knuckles turned white where they gripped the chair. “I do not want to marry Lord Ransdale.”
“I already signed the contract,” Charles said through gritted teeth. “Your signature is not truly necessary, but I thought it was a nice gesture.”
“Lord Ransdale and I do not suit.”
“That matters little to me. Lord Ransdale wants to marry you, and you should be grateful to be securing such an auspicious marriage.”
“Regardless, I am in mourning, and it is entirely inappropriate for me to wed.”
Charles flicked his wrist derisively. “Thetonwill be forgiving once they see how much you adore your husband.”
“I will never love him.”
“It doesn’t matter if you do or not,” Charles said, “but when you are at social events, you will be mindful to behave, or else your husband will have no choice but to discipline you.”
“Father never disciplined Mother.”
Charles grabbed her chin and yanked it down. “He was a fool not to,” he stated, “and I am not weak like Father.”
With a shaky voice, Georgie pressed, “I won’t marry him.”
Charles released her chin and slapped her hard across the cheek, causing the chair to wobble from the force that shook her. “You will marry him!”
Georgie stared at the document on the desk as she cradled her face. “No. You can’t force me.”
Charles grabbed her shoulders and shook forcefully as he turned her to face him.
“Why do you make me hurt you?” he demanded. “This is all your fault. You just have to be difficult!”
“I won’t throw my life away by marrying Lord Ransdale.”
“You will be a countess,” he growled.
“I don’t care!”
Charles grabbed her arm and wrenched her out from behind the chair. “I apologize if I gave you the impression that you had a choice in the matter,” he snarled.
Finding strength inside of her that she didn’t know she had, she shouted, “I won’t ever agree to this union!”
Charles’s eyes narrowed, and he struck her so hard that she fell to the ground. “I don’t need your permission, dear sister,” he hissed as he loomed over her.
She’d braced herself for another blow when the butler appeared in the doorway. “Your coach is waiting out front, my lord,” Wilson informed him in a tone that seemed too normal to Georgie’s ears.
“I am busy at the moment!” Charles bellowed.
Wilson remained in the doorway. “I understand, but you do not want to be late to the House of Lords.”
Indecision crossed Charles’s face before it grew hard again. “You are right. I have commitments to uphold.” Charles crouched down next to Georgie, and she flinched. “We will continue this conversation later,” he said, his voice lowered, “when there are no prying ears to save you.”
Charles rose and departed from the room without another word. Georgie sat up and saw the tall, broad-shouldered butler come stand next to her.
Wilson put his hand out. “May I help you, Miss?”
“Thank you,” she replied, gratefully accepting his assistance.
Once she was standing, she removed her hand from his and brought it up to her cheek. “How does it look?” she asked.
Wilson’s eyes held compassion. “I’m afraid it is rather red.”
