Page 81 of Scandal’s Daughter

He had glanced up at the painting of his mother and when he turned back to speak, he hurriedly averted his eyes. She wondered how often he’d looked at it. There was an expression on his face that made her believe it wasn’t often.

“Perhaps it’s in my blood,” he said, his voice dark and angrier than she’d ever heard it. She swallowed a sudden tremor of fear.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” he said, sullen all at once. “Come on, we should go ...”

Panic rose in her chest. No, no. She needed to give Sebastian more time.

“She was very young, when this was painted,” she said, hoping her bid to delay wasn’t too obvious. But once more his unwilling eyes seemed to be dragged back to his mother’s.

“That was after my father had abducted and raped her,” he said, his voice cold and emotionless. “She didn’t want to marry him. Didn’t want him at all. So, he took her.” He turned and stared at Georgiana and she felt her blood run cold. “He forced himself upon a girl barely out of the school room and you see the result of that happy union standing before you. Bearing in mind she died in childbed I think the pitiful look in her eyes is rather well captured. Don’t you?”

“Oh, my God, Beau,” she whispered. “I’m so very sorry.”

“Not as sorry as she was, I’d wager.” His tone was light, as though he was discussing a far different topic, of little consequence. But Georgiana didn’t believe his nonchalance was anything of the sort.

“She would have loved you, Beau. If she’d been given the chance.”

“Good God, Georgiana!” he exploded, making her take an involuntary step backwards. “Don’t turn me into some tortured hero when I’m nothing of the sort. I’m in debt and I’ve already burnt my boats with Sindalton. You’re the only hope I have of getting out of this without getting my throat cut and my body thrown in the Thames.”

He advanced on her, anger glinting in the blue of his eyes. “I’m not a rapist, love,” he said, as he grabbed hold of her wrists and pinned her to the wall. Georgiana felt her breathing catch, her chest heaving as her heart thundered behind her ribs. “I’ll not follow my father’s footsteps that close I swear it. I would never take you by force, you have my word on that. But you will have me.”

He backed off abruptly, but kept hold of one wrist, pulling her behind him and out along the landing. “Now stop this pathetic bid to delay us and get down to the carriage.”

“No!”

He was standing at the top of the stairs and with her free hand Georgiana shoved him hard and pulled on the wrist he held. He cursed and stumbled down the first two steps before righting himself but lost a hold on her in the process.

With a gasp, Georgiana stepped a little away from him, her eyes glancing around the dark wood-panelled walls for escape, and then picked up her skirts and ran.

She hadn’t the faintest notion of where she was going but even if she locked herself in a room, it would take some considerable time to get to her.

The thin soles of her satin boots slipped on the parquet as she heard his heavier footfalls close behind her. With a shriek, she dived down a dark corridor.

An oak console table sat against the wall at the end of it and she spared a second to stop and tip it over. She heard the crash of china as whatever sat on it shattered and then ran as Beau’s curses echoed around the eerie gloom of the mansion.

A small spiral stone staircase appeared, barely lit by a glimmer of moonlight through the tiny lattice panes of a window and she flew down them two at a time. Misjudging the final steps as the stairs took an erratic turn to the right at the bottom, she stumbled and fell hard on her knees on the cold stone floor.

“Georgiana, stop this ridiculous charade!” Beau, yelled from behind her as she yelped and scrambled to her feet. Flinging herself forward into the pitch black, she ran down another wider corridor; once more the walls were panelled and lined with doors.

Choosing one at random she yanked it open, slamming it behind her and praying there was a lock. The huge iron key turned with a shriek of complaint, but turn it did and she stepped away, panting as Beau hammered on the heavy oak door.

“Open the damn door, Georgiana!”

“No,” she said, gasping for breath. “Sebastian will come for me, you know he will, Beau. I’m staying right here.”

He fell silent and she strained to listen for him, as all she could hear was her own heart thudding and blood rushing in her ears.

“So, you’d see me dead then.” His voice was bleak and despite everything she felt desperately sorry for him. He seemed terribly alone.

“Of course, I wouldn’t!” she shouted, exasperated. “I would help you; Sebastian would help you. I know he would.”

There was a snort of amusement.

“Sebastian will kill me himself,” he replied through the door. “Still, better to die at the hands of a furious lover, than an ignominious murder in a back alley for something as sordid as unpaid debts.”

“Oh, God, Beau!” She slammed her hand against the door in frustration. “You must let us pay the debts for you.”