“Since when did you adhere to fashion and in particular notice women’s fashion?”
“I notice everything about you. Will you not remove your jacket and be more comfortable?”
She wanted to curse. “No, I am quite comfortable.”
“You clearly are not,” he laughed. “Here I will help you.”
He untied the ribbon that tied her light jacket in front and she caught his hands.
“No, Nicholas, please,” she said, her voice sounding far too desperate even to her own ears.
He stopped and withdrew, frowning at her as she retied the jacket.
“Why not?” he asked. “Are you hiding more bruises?”
“Yes,” she said. “I told you I am clumsy.”
“So it would seem,” he said, frowning.
He would not release her hand though and removed her glove, running his thumb over her palm intimately. The small movement caused her heart to race, and she knew she had to tell him, for it was not fair to allow him to consider her for a moment longer. He picked a wildflower from among the grass intent on giving it to her.
“Charles has not spoken to you of the news?” she asked quickly.
“I have not had much occasion of late to speak to Charles. I have been away to my estate in Devonshire and have returned only this morning.”
“I see.”
“Will you not tell me then?” he asked, smiling, the flower in his hand. She hesitated, not wishing to cause any hurt but knowing it was the right thing to do. Maybe his flirtation was only that.
“I am to be engaged to Sir Edward Fairchild,” she said, casually looking toward where Margaret stood with Charles, admiring something she held in her hands. She didn’t want to see the effect her words had on him. He was silent for a good long while and his thumb no longer caressed her palm. Still he held her hand.
“Georgiana, look at me,” he said finally.
Reluctantly she turned to him, wanting to cry at the pain she saw on his face. It was true then; he did still love her. She had hoped his feelings had matured since his childhood crush. She hated her part in the world that would hurt him. Charles was right when he said Nicholas was everything that was good and decent.
“It cannot be true. You would not agree to such a match.”
“Why would I not?” she asked softly, her voice wavering.
“You swore you would only marry for love.”
“Did I?”
She had, long ago when she still believed the world good. Before her father.
“When you broke my nose that was what you said to me.”
Why did he have to remember every detail?
“I was a child, then not knowing yet that as a woman I would have no control over my own life. I am to do as I am told. I am to be affable and well mannered. It is expected for I, Nicholas, am not a child anymore and I cannot think as a child. Our kind does not marry for love, you know that.”
He let go of her hand and she dropped it onto her lap, feeling the loss.
“You have allowed them to turn you into the creature you despise. What a hypocrite you are,” he said angrily, crushing the flower in his hands, and tossing it violently away.
“That is not fair. The only option I have in this life is to marry. Why are you so angry with me?” she cried, playing the simpleton because it was safer to do so.
“Because I am in love with you and have been in love with you as long as I can remember.”
“Nicholas, you must not say that.” She should have known he was no coward. He would not pretend anything other than what he was.
“Why? You know this to be true for you are no fool. I have never been able to hide my feelings for you, and had no wish to do so.”
“This is absurd. You were infatuated with me, perhaps, but that is not love. To love someone you must know her, and you do not know me. I have seen you but twice since your return, and you were absent from my life for a good long while. The person you knew was a child with the passions of a child, not yet familiar with the world as it truly is. I am much altered and did you really know me as I am now, you could not love me.”
“Allow me to know my own feelings,” he said angrily. “I love you, Georgiana, though you will not have me. I had hoped to prove myself to you on my return, but find I am too late to show you that my feelings are in earnest.”
He stood then and walked a little way from her to stand and stare at the river. She watched him, waiting until he turned back to her. “Give me time to win you. That is all I ask.”
She felt her heart constrict, and turned her face away from him, wanting to cry out at the cruelty of it. She did not love him, but she did not want to hurt him either. He had been a dear and good friend to her and Charles, but she must drive him away. She turned back to him, her emotions barely under control.
“Nicholas, you are a dear friend, and I have long thought of you as a brother. I have no feelings of love for you beyond that. If I marry you or I marry Lord Fairchild, what difference does it make? I would still not marry for love.”
He looked away from her, out toward the hills. She wanted to take the words back, but it was too late. It was for the best, she knew, but it made it no less terrible.
“In one sense, you are correct, madam. I do no longer know you, for the girl I remember was not cruel, and she was no coward to be led about like some prime bit of blood.”
He bowed formally to her, then strode to his horse and rode away.
Charles and Margaret walked up the hill toward her, and she composed herself. “Look, Georgy,” Margaret said. “It’s a worm.”
She looked so happy and proud of her find and Georgiana admired it greatly, her inner turmoil well hidden. Then Margaret ran back to the water to join her sister and Lady Delamere. “You told him,” Charles said.
She nodded. “He hates me now, Charles. I have lost his good opinion and I fear it will be lost forever, but the worst is, I have lost a friend.”
“Nicholas could never hate you, and you misjudge his character for he is not so easily put off. You will see him again, I wager. He has been dealt a blow and must only find his balance again.”
He returned to the water’s edge and Georgiana lay back and closed her eyes, hoping he was wrong. She had not the strength left to fight Nicholas. She had tried her best to put him off—so much so that she quite loathed herself.
***
It was far too warm in the drawing room. Her mother fixed her with such an intense stare that Georgiana found herself fidgeting. She wound her handkerchief through her fingers and turned to look at the clock. He was late. A quarter hour had passed from the hour of his stated arrival. It did not bode well. They were expecting Sir Edward Fairchild.
Charles had been satisfied in Fairchild’s character and reputation and all that was left to do was meet this man who was to take control of her. She wore a gown less severe than her usual mourning dress. Her mother had insisted. Her short hair was decorated with a ribbon and her mother had even tried to apply some color to her face, but Georgiana had refused it. Charles paced by the window and Georgiana wished he would seat himself as his energy was not helping her nerves. She dreaded the opening of the door.
Her father’s reputation had been one of the best and it meant nothing to her that Sir Edward was of the same standing. He had an estate in the country and a London house where he spent most of his time. His estate was in dire need of money; he would be forced to sell his London house if he did not marry soon. Charles did not see this as a sign of bad character, only a weakness of mind that in itself was not harmful.
She could draw from him no satisfactory description of his looks, being awarded only that he looked well enough for a man, if somewhat overly dressed for one. She could conclude that her brother looked favorably on him.
A knock on the front door echoed through the hall and she tensed.
“That is him, Georgiana. Are you sure about this?” Charles asked. “It is not too late.”
Sh
e glanced at her mother, who smiled at her.
“I am sure, Charles.”
Yates announced him and Sir Edward entered the room after his perfume had already made its own introduction. Georgiana smiled as she felt herself surrounded by a rose garden, for Sir Edward not only smelled like one but also carried it on his person in the form of color and pattern. He was blindingly spectacular from his shiny Hessian boots, which had never seen a particle of dirt, to the large diamond in his cravat. His puce jacket was cut to perfection, and in his left hand, he held his quizzing glass. His collar was starched stiff and high and he had beautiful white lace at his cuffs.
“My dear Lady Wyndham, what a great honor,” he said and bowed low, first to her mother then to Charles. “Sir Charles.”
“Sir Edward.”
He then turned to Georgiana and made a deep bow indeed and said. “Lady Georgiana, at long last.”
“Sir Edward,” she said and smiled.
“I must first offer my deepest condolences on your loss,” he said. “I hope Lady Wyndham has informed you of my sentiments. I called on two previous occasions, but you were too distressed to receive me.”
“I do apologize,” she said. “I was not able to receive anyone in my state of sadness.”
“I understand,” he said. “It was a big shock, indeed.”
Charles bid him to sit and he did so across from her, crossing his legs smoothly. Her brother guided the conversation in a more pleasant direction, giving her time to study her future. He was not as old as she had expected, and he cut a good figure in his tight cream pantaloons. A silk waistcoat of puce and primrose complemented his jacket, which was cut to his broad shoulders. His dark hair was cut long and looked like it had been windblown, but she knew it to be artfully arranged for effect. She had expected an old man who would leer at her, not a young dandy who barely looked at her at all. His attention was for Charles and her mother, whom he complimented to the point of making her blush. Georgiana watched, amazed, as her mother simpered like a girl in love.
Then it was time for Charles and her mother to leave the room, and she was left alone with her suitor.
“Well, Lady Georgiana, it seems we are to perform.”
“Indeed,” she smiled. “Do you know your part well then?”
“Tolerably, having performed it once before.”
“Yes, I had heard. I am sorry that you suffered the misfortune of losing your first wife. No doubt, you must have loved her deeply.”
“Not at all,” he smiled. “We could barely stand the sight of the other, I am afraid.”
He watched her closely for her reaction. She raised an eyebrow but guarded herself carefully. He admired her restraint and she his honesty.
“You are not shocked by such plain speaking, Miss Wyndham?”
“No. I prefer it to the dishonest discourse which passes for polite conversation.”
“Excellent. Then we have that at least in common.”
“May I ask you then, sir, since candor is not amiss here, why is it you wish to marry me?”
“I thought that quite in the open,” he said and took a pinch of snuff from a gold box and inhaled it.
“You marry me for my money.”
“Yes, indeed,” he said. “Does that distress you?”
“Only if you mean to spend it all and leave me nothing.”
He laughed. “Yes, indeed, that would be an injustice. I must confess that money holds an interest for me only when I can spend it. Otherwise, I find it a bore. This is why I find myself in need of a rich bride, as I am sure you know. My estate is in need of a firm hand or a rich purse, and I have no desire to go running about the countryside.”
“You are aware then that I am not capable of giving you a child.”
“Yes, your father had informed me before his death of your circumstances. As I already have an heir, you can set your mind at ease that I will not require your wifely duties in my bed,” he said with amusement. “I require only that, in every other respect, you act as my wife with decorum and duty.”
His manner more than his words put her at ease and she was allowing herself a glimmer of hope that perhaps she would not be doomed to a life of hell after all.
“I am sure I could suffer duty but decorum has long been my weakness. However, I will endeavor to become better acquainted with it.”
“Excellent,” he smiled. “But tell me, Miss Wyndham, is this truly your wish? You do not have some other young man whom you would prefer?”
She looked at him in surprise. “I confess that I am amazed you should speak of my wishes. I have long been schooled that I am even fortunate to be considered by one such as you.”
“I must agree. My handsome countenance and excellent condition do speak for themselves. But I also have manners, good breeding, and a wit matched by few. Fortune has indeed smiled on you.”
He made this pronouncement so seriously, she wasn’t certain if he was in jest for she did not know him. He watched her without so much as a sign until he smiled and she laughed in relief.
“Come, Miss Wyndham, let us embark as friends with honesty between us. Is this what you wish?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
He stood and kneeled before her then, and taking her hand in his, he opened his mouth to propose, but got no further. The door suddenly burst open, and Nicholas stormed into the room followed by an apologetic butler.
“I am sorry, miss, but the gentleman insisted.”
Fairchild sighed and closed his mouth again. He glanced at her. “Enter the young man, besotted and ready to do battle.” He stood up slowly and bowed to Nicholas. “You have arrived, I want to say, at an inopportune time, but fear you already know that.”
“You are deceived, Sir Edward, to think of making a proposal to Miss Wyndham.”
“Indeed, how so?”
“She is to marry me.”
Georgiana glared at Nicholas and said. “Yates, would you please fetch Lord Wyndham.”
The butler left to do as he was told.
“Marry you? And who are you, sir?”
“Nicholas Markham.”
“Ah, Markham. I have heard a many good things of you, but not that you are engaged. I assure you I have quizzed Miss Wyndham as to any impediment to our engagement and she had not mentioned you.” He turned to her, his eyebrow raised. “Miss Wyndham, is it true? Are you engaged to Nicholas Markham?”
“I am not, Sir Edward, and have given him no hope that I would consent to such a match.”
Sir Edward turned back to Nicholas. “There you have it. The young lady has, I believe, made her choice, and it is quite fortunately turned in my favor. Now, if you will excuse us, I have a proposal to return to.”
Sir Edward turned back to Georgiana, but was stopped by Nicholas, who took hold of Sir Edward’s arm to stop him.
“I will not allow it.”
“Not allow it? Good sir, unhand me,” Sir Edward insisted.
“Georgiana, this is madness,” Nicholas beseeched her.
“Leave, Nicholas,” she said angrily.
“I cannot. Not until you promise you won’t marry him.”
“I will marry him.”
“He will gamble away every cent until you are left with nothing. He is depraved and debauched, the kind of man you said you loathed.”
“Debauched!” Sir Edward said, an eyebrow raised. “That’s a bit strong, sir, and if you continue to insult my honor, you may leave me no choice but to defend it.”
“No,” Georgiana cried desperate to stop what she could see happening before her eyes.
They stood facing each other, of equal height and stature, and she prayed Charles would arrive soon.
“Unhand me and apologize,” Sir Edward demanded.
“I will not. You are not fit to marry her.”
”Then, I shall have my satisfaction!” Sir Edward growled. “My honor has been besmirched, good sir.”
Georgiana wanted to stand up and cross the room, if only to hit N
icholas across the face hard enough to stop this scene. She glared at him instead. “Nicholas, stop this. I will never marry you.”
He turned to look at her, a hard, tortured look on his face, and she wanted to go to him. Why could he not be like other men, and accept that the world must dictate her fate? She had always known him to be passionate in his feelings, but not to the point of self-destruction. “I am, madam, at your mercy,” he said. “I do what I must, for I know no other way.”
She wanted to cry but pleaded with him instead. “Please, Nicholas, don’t.”
Nicholas turned back to Sir Edward and said, “We meet at dawn.”
“Choose your weapon then,” Sir Edward said.
“Swords.”
They bowed to each other and Nicholas left as Charles arrived.
***
Hampstead Heath was eerily quiet, the trees barely illuminated in the early morning light. Charles was pacing outside the coach as they waited for Nicholas to arrive. The physician sat in his own coach awaiting the outcome. Georgiana watched Sir Edward speaking to his second, his expression not giving a hint of the gravity of his situation. He was calm, dressed today in white shirt and black waistcoat but still sporting his Hessian boots. His cravat was missing entirely. It was quite a change from his attire of the previous day.
She had insisted on being present even though her brother had, at first, refused. She had won him over only by saying she deserved to see the duel, as it would be her fault if someone were killed. His anger with her had been evident. He avoided her now for fear he would say something to her that he would regret.
“Maybe he won’t appear,” she said as he passed.
“He will.” The words seemed to conjure Nicholas from the mist as suddenly he stood in the clearing in uniform, his sword at his side, behind him stood his second. Sir Edward removed his coat and brought it to the coach, handing it to her.
“Sir Edward,” she said, as he turned to take his sword.
He turned back to her, a questioning look on his face.
“I beg of you, if it comes to it, spare his life.”
“My dear, it’s a sword fight. Delivering wounds are its aim. Your request is one I cannot promise to fulfill. Isn’t your sentiment with the wrong man?”
Ravenstone (Book 1, The Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 12