Never Judge a Lady by Her Cover
Page 115

Lying or feigning ignorance would not do. Not for this man who deserved her respect. “How did you know?”
“We are members of the same club. He came to me. Told me to marry you.” She looked away, but could not have stopped listening if she tried. “Lauded me with your qualities. Promised me I would be supremely lucky to have you. And I was convinced. After all, we both know that our marriage would be for convenience. Better marriages have been forged on less.” She returned her attention to him. “And then the strangest thing happened.”
“What was that?” she said, hanging on his words, wanting desperately to hear them.
“I saw how much you loved him.”
Warning flared. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He smiled. “Do not worry. We all have secrets. And considering who you are when you are not here wearing trousers, you know mine well.”
There was a time when she would have used them. When she would have threatened him and manipulated him until she got what she wanted. But Chase was no longer so ruthless. Indeed, now, Georgiana simply ached for him when he added, “And I know the particular sadness of knowing, in your heart, that you will never have what you most desperately want.”
The tears came again.
“What do you want, my lady?” he asked.
“It is not important,” she replied, the words barely a whisper.
“That is the bit I do not understand,” he said. “Why do you deny yourself happiness?”
“It is not explicit,” she said, trying to explain. “I do not deny myself. I simply do what must be done to ensure that my daughter is never denied it. To give her the opportunity to have whatever she wants.”
Understanding dawned on Langley’s perfect face, but before he could reply, someone else did. “Then why not ask me what it is I want?”
Georgiana spun around to face Caroline, standing in the doorway to the dining room, all seriousness. “Go on,” her daughter said, “ask me.”
She began, “Caroline…”
The girl stepped out of the room, toward her. “My whole life, you have made decisions for me.”
“Your whole life,” Georgiana pointed out, “totals nine years.”
Caroline’s brow knit. “Nine years and one-quarter,” she corrected before going on. “You sent me to live in Yorkshire, brought me to live here, in London. You have hired the best governesses, saddled me with chaperones.” She paused. “You’ve bought me fine clothes and even finer books. But you have never once asked me what I would like.”
Georgiana nodded, remembering her own youth, always coddled, given everything she could ever want, but never a choice. And so, when she’d finally had a choice, she’d leapt into it without thinking. “What would you like?”
“Well,” the girl said, coming closer. “As I would like to marry for love when I am old enough for it, I should like you to do the same.” She turned to Langley. “No offense, my lord, I am certain that you are quite nice.”
He inclined his head with a smile. “None taken.”
Caroline returned her attention to Georgiana. “My whole life, you have shown me that we cannot let Society dictate our lives. That we cannot allow others to set us on our path. You chose a different path for us. You brought us here, despite knowing that it would be a challenge. That they would laugh at us. That they would reject us.”
She shook her head. “What am I to think if you marry someone whom you do not love? For a title and propriety that I may not want? I am surrounded by women who have carved their own path, and you think it is a good idea to put me on this one?”
Georgiana spoke then. “I think this is the easy path, love. I want it to be easy for you.”
Caroline rolled her eyes. “Forgive me, Mother, but doesn’t that sound terribly boring?”
Langley laughed at that, apologizing when they looked to him. “I am sorry,” he said, “but she is right. It does sound terribly boring.”
God knew it did.
And yet, “But if you fall in love – if you want an aristocrat – you will want the respectability that comes with a title.”
“And if I fall in love with an aristocrat, will he not give me the title I require?” It was an excellent point, made in perfect simplicity by a nine-year-old girl.
Georgiana met her daughter’s serious green gaze. “Where did you come from?”
Caroline smiled. “From you.” She lifted the stack of cards that had come with the morning’s flowers. “Do you want to marry any of these men?”
Georgiana shook her head. “I do not.”
Caroline nodded in Langley’s direction. “Do you want to marry him? Apologies, my lord.”
He waved the words away. “I am quite enjoying myself.” He turned to Georgiana. “Do you wish to marry me?”
Georgiana laughed. “I do not. I am sorry, my lord.”
He shrugged. “I do not take it personally. I do not entirely wish to marry you, either.”
“Mother,” Caroline asked quietly. “Is there someone you do wish to marry?”
There was, of course. There was a man in a house halfway across London, whom she wished quite desperately to marry. Whom she loved beyond measure.
She thought of the cartoon, of Duncan down on his knees, her feather in his pocket. Her breath caught in her throat. “Yes,” she admitted, softly. “I would very much like to marry someone else.”
“And will he make you happy?”