The Clarendon Rose (34 page)

She shook her head once more, so he reached across and placed his hand on her chin.
 
Gently, he turned her face towards him.
 
She did not resist, though she kept her eyes averted.
 
Her brow remained furrowed and her cheeks were slick with tears.

“Tell me, Georgiana.
 
I’ll do whatever I can to help, I promise,” he said, but the statement only elicited a choked cry, and she buried her face in his handkerchief, her shoulders shaking as the sobs continued.

He held her while she cried, his heart bursting as he wondered what could have caused her such distress.
 
Yet, he was also painfully conscious of the smell of roses in her hair, and the supple warmth of her slender body as it shuddered in his arms.

After a few moments, the sobs abated and with a soft sigh, she let her head rest on his shoulder.
 
Then, something tightened in her and she straightened, pulling herself from his arms.
 

He released her, feeling bereft as she stood and walked a little distance from him before turning back, wearing a patently forced a smile.
 
“I am quite well now, milord.
 
Pray, do not worry yourself about me.
 
You may make your farewells and be on your way.”
 
For a moment, it looked as if her control was about to waver once more, but she firmed her chin and managed to maintain her composure.
 

Edmund frowned at her a few moments, then shook his head.
 
“No, Miss Fielding, I don’t believe I can.
 
You were deeply distressed just now, and I should be a poor excuse for a gentleman if I were simply to turn away without helping.”

Her expression darkened and she looked away.
 
“Stop being so kind!” she said.
 
Then, raising her head, she glared at him.
 
“It only makes things worse.
 
Surely even you must realize that.”

He sighed.
 
“I really don’t understand.”

She frowned, shaking her head.
 
“You really don’t understand,” she repeated, her expression growing angrier as she spoke.
 
“You really don’t understand, is it?”

“That’s correct,” he replied, watching her warily.
 

“Well then, perhaps I should explain,” she began, her voice rising with every word.
 
“That will make it all much easier, won’t it?
 
You see, I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember.
 
I used to think you were the most perfect man in the world—handsome, kind, chivalrous.
 
Everything that was good,” she explained, eyes flashing and chest rising and falling swiftly, as she speared him with her gaze.
 
She looked absolutely magnificent, even if Edmund couldn’t credit what she was saying.
 
Surely she didn’t still feel this way about him?
 

Besides, it was dashed difficult to concentrate on any truly coherent thought with this beautiful, enraged woman glaring at him.
 
All he wanted to do was walk over, take her into his arms and kiss away this inexplicable anger of hers.

“Of course, you were also quite out of my reach—and I had enough sense to know that much at least—sense enough not to hope.
 
Especially since everyone knew you and Miss Merriweather had been in love with each other since childhood,” she continued.
 
She had begun pacing restlessly as she spoke, occasionally pausing to gesture or stab at the air.
 
“But then the engagement was called off, Miss Merriweather disappeared then returned and married your brother, and suddenly you started calling here.”
 

She shook her head.
 
“And I began to realize you weren’t perfect.
 
That you were just as human as the next man.”

She stopped in front of him, the anger draining from her as she looked down at him.

Edmund frowned up at her from his seat on the bench.
 
He was still having a time of it trying to concentrate on what she was saying.
 
He understood the words, of course, but they didn’t make any real sense to him.
 

She watched him in silence, the sadness creeping back into her expression.
 
“But that you were still wonderful, kind and chivalrous.
 
I began to see that you were all I wanted in the world.
 
And I forgot to keep myself from hoping,” she concluded, her voice cracking on the final words.

She started to turn away, but Edmund grasped her hand.

He stood, frowning down at her.
 
“What were you hoping, Miss Fielding?”

She pulled her arm back, out of his grasp, then tilted her head up to look at him, her expression defiant.
 
“I’ve embarrassed myself enough for today, don’t you think?
 
It would be best if you left now—I’m sure you’ll manage to work the rest out for yourself over time.
 
It might be one way to while away some of the idle hours on the ship,” she said.
 
This time, he grabbed both her arms before she could turn away.
 

His expression was bitter as he looked down at her.
 
“You can’t be saying, Miss Fielding, that you would willingly leave all that you’ve known here—all your friends and family, your native country—in order to come with me to India.”

Her features were set as she looked up at him.
 
“Why couldn’t I?
 
Because I’m a woman and am not permitted to be eager to see more of the world than this sodden little patch we call a country?
 
Or is it perhaps because I’m a silly girl who couldn’t possibly love a man enough to think she would rather forgo all she has known than lose him forever?”

“You’re not a silly girl.
 
But only think what you’d be giving up.”

She pulled away from him, shaking her head.
 
“Yes.
 
And think what I’d be losing if I stayed—the chance to live in a fascinating new country with a wonderful man whom I love.”
 
She stood a small distance from him, head bowed.
 
“I think you’d best leave now,” she said on a sigh.
 
“As I said earlier, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for today.”

“Georgiana—“

She raised her hand to stop him.
 
“No,” she said, then glanced over at him.
 
She looked weary.
 
Her lips were pale, her expression tired.
 
“Enough.
 
I do not wish to hear more protests from you about how I would surely detest it in India and how I would miss my family unbearably.
 
I understand that you do not love me.
 
That you do not think I would make you a suitable wife.”
 
She shrugged and her lips lifted in a bloodless smile.
 
“And I know these things are not normally discussed in polite society.
 
But now, you may take your leave, your curiosity about my distress duly satisfied.”

“Good God, Georgiana, is that what you think?
 
That it was just idle curiosity?”

She sighed.
 
“No, I suppose not.
 
I expect you really did want to help.
 
But as should be obvious by now, you cannot.
 
It’s as simple as that.”

Edmund looked at her, wanting to believe she knew her mind, wanting to hope he wasn’t going to be forced to walk away from her.
 
He shook his head slowly.
 

“No, it’s not as simple as that.”
 
He walked to where she stood, placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her exquisite blue eyes.
 
“I love you, Georgiana.
 
If I could truly believe that you would give up your life here to travel with me across the world—that you would not be miserable there, and eventually come to hate me for taking you away from your comforts and your family…” he shook his head.

Her expression remained set, but she watched him intently.
 
“You mustn’t try to be kind, Lord Edmund.
 
You have no right to pity me, no matter what I’ve said.”

“I do not pity you.”
 
Edmund sighed.
 
“I came here, resolved upon ending our association because I feared falling even more deeply in love with you than I already am.
 
But Georgiana, I’m no prize.
 
I have no fortune—and worse, I have this stubborn pride that prevents me from allowing my brother to set me up in comfort.
 
What’s more, I’m traveling—“

“If you start back into that ‘away from everything you know’ nonsense, I shall cover my ears, honestly I shall,” she said with the hint of a smile.
 
“As for my coming to hate you…” she shrugged.
 
“I could just as easily marry a man and come to hate him here in England.
 
I don’t have to go to India in order to manage that.
 
But I’ve told you how I much I want to travel and see something of the world,” she said, her expression suddenly brightening at the thought.
 
“I can hardly imagine anything more exciting!
 
I’ve often wished I had been born a man just so I could have that freedom.”

“You’ve said as much before, of course, but I always assumed—“

“Well, stop!” she interjected impatiently.
 
“Stop assuming I don’t know what I really want, Edmund.
 
That’s not for you to decide.
 
Or is it that you love me—if you do love me that is—but you don’t respect me?
 
You think perhaps I’m a bit slow?
 
A bit of a ninny that I wouldn’t know my own mind?”

He sighed, frowning.
 
Of course he didn’t think that—or did he?
 
He had often enjoyed her intelligence and her keen perception.
 
He certainly respected her views about things, for they had proved to be exceptionally well-informed.

So, if he thought so highly of her in all these regards, why did he have such difficulty in believing she knew her mind when it came to the subjects of himself and of India?
 

“I don’t think any of those things, Georgiana,” he said finally.
 
“I suppose I just find it difficult to believe that you could feel that way about me, given my lack of prospects.”

“I don’t care about your prospects, Edmund.
 
You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you know.
 
So, if you
are
proposing, then I accept.”

A slow grin spread across his face as he looked down at her.
 
“Do you really, Georgiana?
 
You would marry me and come with me to India?”

She smiled at him, color creeping back into her face.
 
“Without hesitation.
 
If you’re asking, that is,” she said, then grew serious once again.
 
“And if you’re really sure you love me and you’re not doing this just out of pity.”

“Georgiana, you’re a lovely, intelligent young woman who shows every promise of making an excellent match when you have your London season.
 
But if you’re willing to give all that up for me, I would be deeply honored to have you as my wife,” he said, his tone low but intense.
 
Then, his expression brightened.
 
“And if you doubt my feelings, just ask Tina.
 
She’s been trying to get me to propose to you.”

Georgiana looked startled.
 
“Has she?
 
But you wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t think I stood much chance with you, so though I was patently miserable and, as Tina will tell you, quite pathetically lovesick, I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“So, I had to embarrass myself for you before you’d be persuaded to propose.
 
Though in point of fact, I was also the one who did the proposing.”

“I’ve been remiss, haven’t I?”
 
Edmund couldn’t stop grinning.
 
“So, shall I embarrass you first, or just get right on to the proposal, then?”

“Wretch!”

They walked over to the bench and sat down beside each other.
 
Her hand was tucked into the crook of his arm and she smiled up at him.
 
They were in clear view of the house, but that hardly mattered anymore.

They sat together for hours, discussing special licenses, the pain of hidden feelings and the adventures that lay ahead.
 
They made plans for the future and marveled to each other at the wonder of loving and being loved.

If someone told me last week that I’d actually be glad to be arriving in London, I wouldn’t have believed them,
Tina thought wryly as the coach pulled up in front of Clarendon’s townhouse.
 

She had passed the restless hours since her argument with her husband the day before trying to think of ways to explain why she had flinched when he raised his arm.
 
She had taken dinner in her rooms and continued to mentally rehearse different approaches, trying to see a path through to some version of a reconciliation with him.
 

She still ached with the knowledge that he had taken a mistress.
 
But, after yesterday, she had concluded that some form of civility—albeit a potentially distant one—was preferable over edged hostility in the area of spousal relations.

This morning, she had finally reached the point where she just wanted to get it over with.
 
And so, it was with an sense of relief that she disembarked from the ducal coach into the thick smells that pervaded the city.