by Cheryl Holt
She was fed up with everyone, and there must have been a devilish imp perched on her shoulder and urging her to cause trouble. “I’m really curious about a pesky detail, Portia.”
“What is it?”
“Aunt Augusta told me Mr. Drummond had proposed to you and that—while Miles was away—you were considering whether you should cry off from your betrothal.”
Portia’s eyes sparked with malice. “I wasn’t considering it. Mr. Drummond offered, but I emphatically refused him.”
“Well then, good for you.” Georgina oozed sarcasm. “I’m glad to hear you’re so devoted to Miles.”
Portia got in her own dig. “Augusta tells me you were quite smitten by Mr. Drummond yourself. When he was such an enemy of the family it’s odd that you’d be cozy with him. You’re not in any position to talk about loyalty or dedication.”
Portia looked so angry she might have jumped up and slapped Georgina, but Augusta intervened. “There’s an important issue that must be resolved before Portia makes Kirkwood her home.”
“What is it?” Georgina asked. “And please be brief. Today’s events have fatigued me beyond measure, and I’d like to lie down and rest.”
“We’re all tired,” Portia said. “You’re not the only one who suffered. We all did so don’t be a martyr.”
Georgina yearned to rudely retort, but what was the point of bickering? She whipped her attention to Augusta. “What is your issue, Aunt Augusta? By all means, let’s deal with it so I can go.”
“As Portia mentioned, you were extremely close to Mr. Drummond.”
Georgina frowned at her aunt, wondering how to reply. With Portia glaring, she couldn’t have a frank chat with Augusta about what had occurred.
“I felt it was vital to befriend him,” Georgina carefully stated. “I thought it might smooth over the discord.”
“You went a bit farther than befriending him though,” Augusta said.
“I did what you and Miles asked of me,” Georgina quietly reminded her.
Portia bristled. “You’re blaming Augusta and Miles?”
Georgina gaped at Portia, curious as to where they were headed.
“Is there something you’d like to say to me, Portia?” she inquired.
Portia opened her mouth to respond, but Augusta laid a hand on her wrist, stopping any comment.
“Portia and I have discussed your affair,” Augusta announced like a threat.
Georgina had never been more wounded by her aunt. Her liaison with Mr. Drummond had been thrilling but reckless. She’d pursued it because she’d believed he was fond of her, because she’d believed herself to be in love. It had all been a fantasy, but it didn’t change the fact that she’d proceeded with pure motives.
Yes, she’d sinned, but she’d been in love. It was the sole ethical lapse she’d ever committed. Couldn’t she be forgiven?
Georgina was crushed. “You discussed me with Portia?”
“Yes, you—and Mr. Drummond.”
Portia chimed in with, “I’ll be mistress of Kirkwood as of tomorrow at noon. It was only appropriate that I be apprised.”
“Hush, Portia,” Augusta chided. “I’ll handle this.”
“Handle what, Augusta?” Georgina said.
“You’ll have to leave Kirkwood.”
“I have to leave?”
“Yes.”
“Who decided this? You or Portia?”
“We talked about it, but I made the decision.”
“I’ve lived here most of my life,” Georgina said. “My mother was a Marshall. You’re not, Augusta, but my mother was. She had Marshall blood in her veins, but you don’t. Why should I have to leave? You leave.”
Portia muttered to Augusta, “I told you she’d be difficult.”
Georgina rounded on Portia, rising from her chair and pointing to the door. “Get out of here, Portia.”
“I will not.”
“I’m having a private conversation with my aunt,” Georgina seethed. “The topic is none of your business. Now get out.”
Portia didn’t move, and Georgina had never been more furious. She’d assumed Mr. Drummond was the only one who could goad her to such elevated levels of rage, but apparently she’d been holding in an enormous amount of wrath for twenty-five years. It was begging to be vented.
She grabbed Portia by the arm and yanked her to her feet. At being manhandled, Portia was so stunned that Georgina was able to drag her over and push her into the hall without Portia fighting back. She slammed the door and spun the key in the lock.
Portia swiftly recovered, and she pounded on the wood, demanding to be readmitted. Georgina scowled at Augusta, and ultimately Augusta called to Portia, “I’ll confer with Georgina alone, Portia. Go down to the front parlor. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
“Don’t you dare relent,” Portia fumed.
“I won’t,” Augusta said.
Portia’s footsteps faded away, then Georgina returned to her chair. Her irate glower never left her aunt, and for once Augusta actually looked abashed. But then in the past, Georgina had always strove to be kind, meek, and pleasant. Augusta had never seen her bully anyone, and all in all Georgina felt quite grand.
The whole world had better watch out! There was no predicting what she might do next.
“Speak your piece,” she advised her aunt, “and be quick about it.”
“You have to leave.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You have engaged in immorality with Mr. Drummond. You have disgraced yourself, and you can’t continue to reside among decent people. It’s the price you have to pay. You’ve sinned, and now you must be cast out.”
“You told me to ingratiate myself to Mr. Drummond. Miles told me too. You both insisted on it.”
“Yes, well, we hardly benefited.”
“Meaning what?”
“We received no advantage from your efforts. Miles had to rectify the situation himself, and Mr. Drummond didn’t give an inch.”
“You told me to do it, Augusta.”
“You shouldn’t have,” was Augusta’s reply.
It was the strangest and most heartless remark her aunt could have uttered.
Georgina had begun her flirtation with Mr. Drummond at Augusta’s behest. She’d enticed him in the hopes of gaining boons for her family that they couldn’t arrange themselves.
To have those actions discounted! To be scolded for attempting to save them! It was so outrageous that little red dots swarmed in her eyes, and she was afraid she might faint from indignation.
Struggling for calm, she took several deep breaths. “All right, Augusta, I shouldn’t have, but I did. I did it for you and Sophia. I did it to help. It didn’t work, but at least I tried.”
“Yes, and there has to be consequences.”
“Why? Because you say so?”
“Yes, because I say so. And Miles says so too.”
Georgina’s spirits flagged. “You already discussed it with him?”
“Yes.”
“How about Sophia? What is her opinion?”
“I haven’t mentioned it to Sophia. She is still a maiden, and it’s not fit for her ears to hear about your illicit behavior.”
“Heaven forbid that Sophia hear something horrid.”
“Yes, heaven forbid. I won’t have you telling her either.”
“I never would!” Georgina huffed. “Has it ever occurred to you that I’m shamed to the core of my being?”
“No. You are your mother’s daughter. I’m sure you enjoyed every minute of your dissolute…fling.”
It was old ground they’d raked over many times, and Georgina didn’t have the energy to rake over it again.
“What now, Aunt Augusta? What is it you want from me?”
“It’s not appropriate for you to stay here after Portia marries Miles.”
“According to Portia, I suppose, but I don’t give two figs about her.”
“I do. She’s been like a second daughter to me.”
As Augusta voiced the comment, Georgina was incensed. She should have been the second daughter. She should have been the girl Augusta cherished and favored after Sophia. But Augusta had never liked her, and it was too late to mourn the fact that even the neighbor down the road had taken precedence over Georgina.
“You always hated me,” Georgina said, “and I never understood why.”
“I don’t hate you,” Augusta claimed. “You’re naught to me but a burden your mother left on my doorstep.”
“I’ve never been a bother. I don’t care how often you repeat it. It’s not true.”
“Be that as it may, you have to leave.”
Georgina studied her aunt, and for a fleeting moment she nearly argued again that she was a Marshall and Augusta wasn’t. How dare Augusta force her out! Yet Georgina was gradually realizing she simply couldn’t bear to remain in her aunt’s presence another instant. Nor did she wish to see Miles ever again.
She adored Sophia, but the sad possibility was that—should Georgina disappear—Sophia probably wouldn’t even notice. Georgina was that inconsequential to her.
“I’m happy to depart, Aunt Augusta, but to where? And how am I to get there? Will you kick me out on the road to live in a ditch? Shall I speak to the vicar and have him find me a bed in the poor house? Is that the ending you’d like for me? I’m so sick of all of you that I’d likely consent to any humiliating conclusion—if only I can be away from you forever.”
“I thought you might go to your father’s relatives.”
Georgina was startled by the suggestion. Over the years, she’d occasionally asked Augusta about her father, where he was from, what sort of people his family had been. Augusta had insisted she had no information about them.
Now…Georgina could go to her other kin?
If Augusta had suddenly told her she could sprout wings and fly to the moon, she couldn’t have been any more surprised.
“You know where they are?”
“Of course.”
“You’ve always known?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Edward felt there was no reason for you to be apprised.”
“Why?”
“Because of all the trouble your father caused with the elopement. Edward refused to give you to them.”
“They…they…wanted me?”
“I wouldn’t say they wanted you precisely, but they wrote several times to inquire. Edward put short shrift to that nonsense.”
“Who wrote? My grandparents?”
“Yes, I believe that’s who it was. Or it might have been your father’s brother. I don’t recall.”
“I have an uncle and grandparents?”
Tears flooded her eyes. She couldn’t help it. The news was astonishing and disturbing. She could escape Kirkwood where she’d never been welcome, where she was so despised. Most particularly, she would never have to see Mr. Drummond again. For despite what Miles, Augusta, and Portia assumed, Georgina was certain Mr. Drummond would return, and there would be hell to pay.
She didn’t care to witness any of it.
Without pondering her decision, without considering the consequences, she said, “I would like to go to my father’s family. I would like that very much. How can I accomplish it? Are they in England?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have money for coach fare.”
“I have some for you.”
Augusta rose and went to her desk. She removed an envelope and a small purse from the drawer. “You may have their address and other pertinent information, as well as the funds to travel, but there are two conditions.”
“Whatever they are, I agree.”
“You aren’t interested in learning my terms?”
“Demand what you will. It matters not to me.”
Augusta mentioned her stipulations anyway. “You must depart immediately—before the wedding is held.”
A bubble of outrage tried to surface. She wanted the opportunity to say goodbye to acquaintances. It was all happening too fast! Too soon! But she realized she could breathe deeply for the first time in ages. Why not leave at once? What reason was there to stay?
“I’d be delighted to.”
“The mail coach will pass through the village around four. I’d like you to be on it.”
“I will be.”
“And…you are never to come back to Kirkwood.”
“I won’t. You have my word.”
“You say that now—”
“And I’ll say it tomorrow and next week and next year. You’ve always hated having me here, Augusta, but guess what?”
“What?”
“I’ve always hated being here.”
That wasn’t really true. Mostly she’d been content and grateful, but it was an awful existence being poverty-stricken and reviled.
“Well!” August sniffed, it never having occurred to her that Georgina didn’t like her or Kirkwood.
“I’ve disliked you most of all,” Georgina added, merely to be spiteful. She extended her hand. “Give me what you promised, and I’ll be on my way.”
Augusta dithered as if—with her being insulted—she might change her mind. In the end, she provided what Georgina was dying to have. She pointed to the corner where Georgina’s battered portmanteau was on the floor.
“Since you were supposed to be evicted today,” Augusta said, “you’d already packed. I had the servants carry your belongings over from the cottage. I believe everything is in it.”
“Thank you.”
“I had the carriage prepared. A footman will drive you into the village.”
“I can walk.”
“I insist on you taking it.”
Georgina scoffed. In all the time Georgina had resided at Kirkwood, Augusta had never offered her the carriage. With Augusta being shed of her so easily, she was feeling generous.
“If it’s so important to you,” Georgina said, “I’ll ride.”
“You are to talk to no one.”
“I don’t see how you can stop me.”
“There has been enough upheaval, Georgina. We don’t need more, and I especially can’t have you quarreling with Portia.”
“Poor Portia. We shouldn’t upset her.”
Augusta ignored the sarcastic remark. “There’s money for the coach fare, and I’ve included a bit extra to tide you over for a few months. It’s not much, but it should be sufficient to get you established with your family.”
With my family…
Georgina had considered Augusta and Miles to be her family, and she was thrilled that she no longer had to claim them. She stood and went over to her bag. Her pelisse and bonnet were there too. She put them on, grabbed the portmanteau, and started out.
As she stepped into the hall, Augusta snapped, “Georgina!”
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to say goodbye?”
“No.”
She marched down the stairs and out the front door. For a fleeting moment, she’d thought about slinking out the back as if she should be embarrassed, but she was a Marshall daughter, a Marshall granddaughter, and she refused to act as if she was leaving in disgrace.
And she wasn’t leaving. She was escaping! She was at the beginning of a new and better life.
The carriage was waiting, the horses harnessed, a footman in the box. He moved to jump down and help her in, but she waved him off and climbed in on her own. She gazed out at the manor, expecting to suffer strong sentiment: nostalgia, regret, fury. Yet no emotion was stirred.
She was empty inside, passionate sensation having been drummed out of her by Mr. Drummond earlier that morning.
Briefly she wondered if he was all right, if he was alive, if he would survive his brutal beating. Briefly she wondered if she should find Sophia, if she should mention her plans to the only person who might care about her situation.
But
she felt as if she was invisible and floating free, cut off from all that was familiar. None of them had ever deserved to know her, and if she vanished, who would fret?
She knocked on the roof, and the driver called to the horses. The team pulled her away, and as they rumbled past the house, she didn’t glance out, didn’t watch it fade into the distance.
Instead she opened the envelope Augusta had given her, and there was a piece of paper in it.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan and Sarah Fogarty,” she read, and she assumed they were her grandparents. Or perhaps they were an aunt and uncle. They were fine, solid names, and she was excited to meet them.
They approached the end of the lane, and the driver easily maneuvered the turn out onto the road. In a few seconds, they were headed to the village where the mail coach would deliver her from her every heartache and woe.
She grinned and shook her fist in triumph.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Iwarn you,” Damian said with a cool, lethal reserve, “not to untie my wrists. For if you do I’ll murder you before you can draw a breath.”
“Shut up you impertinent dog.”
The villain sitting in the carriage next to him—a dunce named Harry—whacked him with his club, and Damian bit down a yelp of pain. He thought his arm might be broken, as well as a few ribs, but he’d suffered many worse torments in the past.
They’d been traveling on the road to London for several hours, and they’d finally stopped at a coaching inn so his guards could eat and rest their horses.
Everyone was inside except for Damian, Harry, and a younger dolt named Tim. The contingent believed two men sufficient to act as sentries while the others dined. After all, he was trussed like a Christmas goose so he’d allowed them to assume two was enough. Eventually he’d have a chance to strike back, and he would strike viciously and thoroughly.
Tim wasn’t much of a threat, but Harry was stupid and thuggish, good at dishing out physical punishment, but then so was Damian—as Harry would discover once Damian was free.
He wasn’t worried about what would transpire when they arrived in London. He was very rich, and the rich could buy whatever they needed. No, he was simply aggravated that he’d been so distracted at Kirkwood. He’d been so furious with Georgina that he hadn’t seen what was right in front of his eyes.