‘You did what?’ Georgiana sat up, the covers of the great four-poster bed falling to her waist. The hour was late and she had almost been asleep when she heard her husband enter the room. Now her head danced dizzily as she struggled to comprehend the enormity of what he was telling her.
Nathaniel threw his finely cut coat on to the chair beside the tallboy in the corner, and stripped off his neckcloth. Even galloping the gelding full speed across country had not blunted the edge of his fury. ‘No one will cast such a slur on your character and think to get away with it, even if he is my brother. Henry shall take back his vile words or I’ll disown him as my brother.’
She clasped her hands to her cheeks in horror. Surely this could not really be happening? A serious quarrel with Henry and all over her honour, her damned supposed honour. ‘Nathaniel, please, stop, think what you’re doing.’ She clambered out of the bed and stood facing him clad only in the voluminous swirl of her white cotton nightgown.
‘I know exactly what I’m doing,’ he said between firm set lips.
She could see by the stubborn tilt of his jaw that he wasn’t going to be easy to reason with, but she had to try. Heaven only knew just how much she would. ‘What did you expect when you brought me here?’ she demanded, elbows akimbo. ‘That they would welcome me with open arms? We both knew what this visit was to be about. I thought that we’d prepared ourselves to meet what we would find.’
He threw his shirt aside and sat down on the bed to strip off his boots, the muscles in his back rippling from his exertions. ‘My father’s insults are to be expected. That he has not deigned to grace us with his presence is exactly the welcome I expected. But what I’m not prepared to accept is Henry’s condemnation of you.’ His eyes glittered dark and dangerous as if he were recalling events from earlier in the day.
‘Put yourself in his shoes. He’s your older brother, Porchester’s heir. It’s only natural that he feels the weight of family responsibility heavy on his shoulders. He’s only doing what he thinks best for you. How would you feel if matters were reversed and Henry had taken an unsuitable woman to wife? You would speak out, wouldn’t you?’
‘That’s not the point, Georgiana,’ he argued. ‘The matter is not reversed and I won’t allow him to speak of you in that way.’ How could he explain to her the anger that stuck like a bone in his throat, when he did not understand it himself? Her words were sensible, the same advice as he would give to any other, and yet he could not swallow them, for all he knew that he should.
When he did not answer, just began to remove his stockings, she flounced round the other side of the room to face him once more. ‘He’s your brother. Would you lose him over a silly argument?’
‘Georgiana, let it be. Henry knows how to resolve the matter.’
‘And what of you?’ she said with gritty determination. ‘You would throw away all that is between you, alienate yourself from your brother as well as your father, and at Christmas?’
He shrugged his shoulders with false bravado. ‘If that’s the price, then I’ll pay it. Regardless of what people think, I have some sense of honour.’
She clutched at his shoulders, her fingers biting hard, pulling the full weight of his attention to her. ‘Then hear me, Nathaniel Hawke, and hear me well. I won’t allow you to lose Henry over such a pettiness. It’s my honour he’s insulted and therefore I’ll have the say of any action taken to defend it.’ Grey lights flashed boldly in her eyes as she leaned closer to him, her face barely inches from his. ‘When I cut off my hair and dressed in my stepbrother’s clothes I decried my honour. When I ran away to Fareham in the company of strangers I decried my honour. When I served under false pretences aboard the Pallas I decried my honour. And, worst of all, when I forced you to face ruination or marriage, what did I do to the little honour I had left? I’m not so high in the instep that I cannot suffer whatever words your family may choose to throw at me. And if I can suffer it, so can you.’
‘Georgiana—’ he started to interrupt but she would have none of it.
‘No, Nathaniel, hear me out. You would deprive yourself not only of Henry, but of Mirabelle and the children too. And what of Freddie? Where will he stand with his loyalties divided? You would tear this family apart.’ She saw the pain appear in his eyes. Her hands moved up to take his face between her palms. ‘And what would that knowledge do to you? I don’t want to lose the husband that I love.’
The last word echoed in the stillness between them. Their faces were so close that the warmth of their breath met and mingled. She saw the darkness clear from his eyes, watched them open wide and clear. ‘You love me?’ It was a mere whisper on a breath, but Georgiana knew what he asked.
‘I’ve always loved you, Nathaniel Hawke, from that first day upon the river bank when you saved my life.’
He stared at her as if he could not believe the words that had just fallen from her mouth. Stared at her as if he thought never to look upon her again. His arms moved to hold her to him so that she could feel the thud of his heart against her own. Lip to lip, breast to breast, hip to hip, they lay still and heavy, each breathing the scent of the other. And all the while those dark eyes held hers, never flinching nor fading in the intensity of their focus. Silence surrounded them save for the haunting rattle of the wind against the windowpanes. When at last he moved to take her it was as if it was the first time. Such tenderness, such passion, and yet with so much more. Even as he moved over her Georgiana knew the difference. For this was a union not just of bodies but also of souls. A merging of hearts for ever. The knowledge pushed the experience into the realm of the extraordinary. It seemed that they floated clear of the bed, of the great house itself, melting together in a liquid pool of ecstasy that surpassed ordinary mortal experience. Even when Georgiana curled sleeping around him, Nathaniel knew that everything had changed. A world of difference sparked from one small innocuous word. Love. She had said it. Had spoken the truth. And in the darkness of their bedroom and the nocturnal hush of Collingborne House he lay brooding upon exactly what that meant. Truly, nothing would ever be the same again.
It was the day before Christmas Eve and both Nathaniel and Henry were still proving to be wilfully stubborn when it came to the matter of Georgiana. Henry, in his position of the older and wiser sibling, would not soften in his condemnation for all of Mirabelle’s tears, tantrums and pleadings. Neither would Nathaniel withdraw his stubborn ultimatum. After that night, when she had believed him to have understood all that she had tried so hard to express, Georgiana was left lonely and confused. The man she loved seemed strangely distant, removed to a place she could not reach. That he fully intended to lose Henry over the foolish notion of her honour only fired the pain that ravaged her breast. What matter that she loved him, had bared her heart and soul, only to have it cast firmly back in her face? He did not love her, that much was clear. Indeed, had he not since taken pains to avoid her, creeping late into bed when he knew her to be asleep, and rising early in the morning?
As soon as she entered the breakfast room Henry, Lord Farleigh, departed, turning his back to meet her in a direct cut.
Mrs Howard rose swiftly from the table. ‘We were beginning to worry that you’d overslept. Come and help yourself to breakfast. The choice is quite superb.’
Georgiana’s normally robust appetite suddenly shrivelled to the size of a small dried pea. ‘I’m not hungry, some coffee will suffice.’
‘Nonsense,’ replied Mrs Howard. The lady proceeded to create an assortment of devilled kidneys, eggs and bread rolls upon a plate and placed it before Georgiana. ‘Take my word for it, my dear, you’ll feel much better for eating.’
Georgiana’s gaze met those of Mirabelle Farleigh. The small woman smiled, but it did not hide the ashen hue of her complexion or the dark shadows that smudged beneath her red-rimmed eyes. ‘It isn’t your fault, Georgiana. They’re both as bad as each other. Henry shouldn’t have said the things that he did. I’m sorry that it’s come to this.’
Mirabelle pushed back a lock of hair that had escaped to sweep over her cheek. ‘You’re a good woman, Georgiana, and my husband’s more the fool for his blindness. For all that I love him, I’ve never seen him so stubborn and unyielding.’ She pressed the lace of her handkerchief to her mouth. ‘Please excuse me, Georgiana, Mrs Howard.’ A rustle of skirts and she was gone.
‘Stop playing with your breakfast, Georgiana. Starving yourself shall not assist any aspect of the matter.’ The silver eyes regarded her calmly, sensibly, loosening the tension within the room.
‘You’re right as ever, Mrs Howard,’ said Georgiana. She chewed on the food thoughtfully, pondering the situation with cool composure for the first time.
Neither woman spoke, each reassured and comfortable in the other’s presence. After some time, when Georgiana had scraped her plate clean and was sipping on her second cup of coffee, she asked, ‘What’s your opinion, ma’am? What should we do?’
Mrs Howard folded her long manicured fingers before answering. ‘It’s not my place to comment.’
Georgiana looked up at her, disappointment on her face.
‘Georgiana,’ the older woman sighed, ‘I shouldn’t, but …’ One slow blink of the silver eyes and she continued, ‘You must do whatever it takes to ensure that the disagreement is resolved. And now, please excuse me, my dear. I’ve already said too much.’ So saying, Evelina removed herself swiftly and gracefully from the breakfast room.
Georgiana sat alone, bathed in a ray of pale winter sunshine. Mrs Howard had not told her anything other than she already knew herself. Yes, her heart was raw from Nathaniel’s rejection. But a family was at stake here. Wallowing in self-pity would not prevent Nathaniel’s self-imposed isolation. Whatever the outcome, the Hawkes would be destroyed, and Georgiana knew quite calmly, quite clearly, that the fault would lie with her own self. If only she had not run away, if only she had not ended up aboard the Pallas, if only she had not married Nathaniel…There were so many if onlys. On board the frigate, before they had ever come to this place, she would have staked her very life that Nathaniel could never have behaved in this way. To risk all that was dear to him, and over her. She could not stop him, just as Mirabelle could not stop Henry. The more that Georgiana thought, the more she came to realise that there was only one person who had the power to do such a thing. One man who could prevent the downward spiral of events. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and determined that this was one occasion that would never merit an if only.
The Earl of Porchester looked up from his desk at the woman standing so doggedly before him. With her clear pale skin and short dark hair, she could hardly be described as beautiful, but there was something magnetic about her, the arrangement of her features, and those eyes. Porchester felt it, just as clearly as his sons had before him. It was, no doubt, an attribute she used to good effect—to catch a husband beyond her class, beyond her means. If she thought to manipulate him so easily, she was in for a surprise. He knew that he had been inordinately rude in refusing to meet her, and that nothing excused his appalling breach of manners. A wave of disquiet swept over him at the thought. He brushed it carelessly away. ‘I did not request your presence, madam.’
‘No.’ Her voice was quiet but steady.
He watched her from beneath his dark hooded eyes, waited for her discomfort to grow before gesturing in the direction of the worn leather chairs by the fireplace. ‘Sit down.’ It was not an invitation. He moved around from behind the barrier of the desk.
‘Thank you, my lord.’ Georgiana settled herself into the chair and watched while the earl took the other. She noted that he was almost as tall as Nathaniel and, even if the years had not left him unmarked, he still had an impressive stature. Although his hair had turned to a distinguished silver, he did not appear old—it merely lent him an air of sophistication. For a man busy about work within his study he was dressed immaculately in a black superfine coat, under which a silver-grey waistcoat and pristine white shirt could be seen. With his black breeches and silver buckled shoes he presented a formidable image. A lavender neckcloth completed the elegant attire. She felt more than a little intimidated by the Earl of Porchester. Her gaze flickered nervously to his face, and she almost gasped aloud at what it found there. For Lord Porchester was possessed of the same expressive eyes as each of his sons and he was watching her with a cold disdain. Even the knowledge of his hostility to her husband, and therefore, by association, to herself, had not prepared her for the severity of the earl’s presence. The power of speech appeared to have deserted Georgiana as she stared overawed at the man seated opposite. A vision of Nathaniel came to her aid and she forced herself onwards, and upwards.
‘Please forgive my interruption, sir. I’m sorry to disturb you when you’re clearly busy, but I wondered if you might spare me a few minutes of your time.’ The sides of her throat were in danger of sticking together such was their aridity, and her stomach was starting to rebel against the devilled kidneys. It growled loudly in the pause after her words. A hint of colour suffused her pale cheeks and she muttered, ‘Oh, please do excuse me, my lord.’
The harshness in Lord Porchester’s dark eyes did not even waver, just remained trained on the woman seated before him. ‘What do you want?’ he asked with uncivil bluntness. ‘Other than what you’ve already acquired for yourself.’
She felt the colour deepen in her cheeks at the insult. ‘I ask only that you’ll listen to my request.’
‘Asking for more already?’
The muscle in her jaw twitched before she schooled it to remain impassive. ‘I’m not here for myself. You will think what you want of me. I cannot change that, nor am I about to try.’
A dark eyebrow raised in response. ‘Then I ask you again, what do you want?’
She swallowed hard. ‘Nathaniel and Lord Farleigh have argued.’
He waited.
She swallowed again and tried to make him understand. ‘It’s serious. They won’t speak to one another and neither is prepared to back down.’
‘Over what have they disagreed?’ The expression on his face was closed, but the tone of his voice suggested that he already knew.
‘Over myself.’ Her hands clasped firmly together. ‘Nathaniel has taken exception to Lord Farleigh’s opinion.’
‘And what exactly is Henry’s opinion?’ Just how much was she prepared to reveal?
Georgiana steeled herself to say what must be said. There could be no evasion, no hiding from the truth. ‘He doesn’t approve of me, sir. He believes that I married Nathaniel to further my own ends.’
The earl smiled, and the slow ironic curve of his mouth was more chilling than his frown. And still those dark eyes looked coldly on. ‘It’s nothing less than the truth.’
The silence stretched between them.
‘Nothing I say will persuade you otherwise. I’m not here to plead my case. In fact, I deserve your condemnation more than you can know. But I won’t stand by and see brother against brother, or watch the destruction of my husband’s family. Whatever you think of him, Nathaniel deserves better than that.’ Her fingers strayed surreptitiously to worry at her ear.
The dark eyes widened, and watched as Georgiana unwittingly mirrored the habit of the earl’s late wife. It was an action that had ever betrayed concentration or anxiety in his beloved countess. And in that single motion, time stripped away so that he could see Mary, bright, alive, smiling, before the pain, before the dark finality, before the bitter years of misery. When he looked again, there was only the frightened girl wearing her defiant courage like a badge. ‘Nathaniel has exactly what he deserves,’ he said, but there was a huskiness to his voice that
had not been there before.
‘No.’
Their gazes locked.
‘You’re wrong about him. Your son, my lord, is an honourable man. Whatever else he is, never doubt that.’
A mirthless laugh escaped the old man. ‘You plead his case well. He will be pleased.’
‘He doesn’t know that I’m here.’
The clock ticked loudly upon the mantel.
She tried again. ‘Nathaniel is a good man. He’s sacrificed much in the name of honour and duty.’
Another pause.
‘I’m listening,’ he said, and Georgiana knew it to be the best chance she would get. To reveal the extent of her husband’s sacrifices would be to declare the scandalous truth about herself. If Lord Farleigh disapproved of her because she was an innkeeper’s daughter, she could only imagine the family’s reaction when they learned the rest. She would have to leave, of course. For that, Lord Por-chester would know that for all these years he had been wrong about his son. The price was high, but she knew she could do nothing other than pay it, and willingly so. So she raised her chin and straightened her back. ‘There’s much to tell,’ she said quietly, ‘and I’d have you know it all, my lord.’ With a calm determination she proceeded to do just that, neither omitting details nor embellishing facts. And all the while the Earl of Porchester listened in studied silence.
‘So now you know, my lord, how honourable a man Nathaniel Hawke is.’ She sat caught in her memories, knowing, whatever the future held, she would never stop loving Nathaniel. Slowly she forced herself back to the present. ‘Will you speak to him, make him see that this quarrel is utter folly?’
Those hooded dark eyes were regarding her intensely, and still he had neither moved nor spoken. ‘It was ever my intent,’ he said slowly.
‘But you…I thought—’ Georgiana broke off.
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