He stiffened as Ludlow shoved the chair back across the wooden floor.
“My lord, may I notify those to whom Mr. Pierce owed funds that you will make good on his debts?” Ludlow asked.
Devon swallowed hard as thoughts of all he was losing swirled through his mind. He was under no legal obligation to hold himself responsible for the man’s debts. Of that he was certain. But moral responsibility was another matter entirely. “Of course.”
“Thank you, my lord. I shall see myself out.”
Inwardly he cringed as Ludlow snapped closed his valise. His retreating footsteps echoed loudly through the library. The man was considerate enough to close the door in his wake.
Devon heard the rustle of his wife’s skirts, and then she was standing beside him, a hazy reflection in the window.
“Father promised you a dowry?”
“Fifty thousand. Then of course upon his death whatever you inherited would have come to me. It’s English law, and you, my sweet, are now English.”
“You must feel as though you had no reason to marry me,” she said quietly.
An affirmation hovered on the tip of his tongue, but the devastation ringing in her voice held his anger in check. What good could possibly come from lashing out at her?
“You have to believe me, Devon, I had no idea Father was gambling to such an extent that he would lose everything.”
“How could you not know?” he asked.
“I didn’t follow him around London. As for the creditors, Father always told me to have my purchases placed on his accounts and he’d take care of the bill at the end of the month.”
“Well, he damned well took care of it, didn’t he, Countess?” he ground out before turning to glare at her.
“It’s been years since he gambled. Why now?”
“He wanted you to have respectability, the old-world affluence that his new world dollars could never purchase. A title, countess, steeped in tradition and honored by society. You can snub anyone and get away with it. He moved you into the most elite echelon of society. Having achieved his goal, he obviously no longer cared if the damned money was there or not.”
“I can’t believe he’d gamble it all away.”
He wanted to rail at his wife, but she seemed frail and lost, as devastated by her father’s chicanery as he was himself.
And she had that tear clinging to her lash. She’d no doubt wept a few silently before approaching him. Why did that knowledge have the power to undo him as nothing else could?
“The solicitor’s wrong,” she said beseechingly.
“I’ll have my own man make some discreet inquiries.”
He turned away from her, fearing all the inquiries in the world wouldn’t make a bit of difference. He possessed less now than he had before.
“I simply don’t understand exactly what Papa was thinking.”
Strolling through Hyde Park with Lauren, Georgina was surprised to discover the sun still shone, flowers continued to show their colors, and the elms retained their leaves.
Her frustration mounting, she glanced at Lauren. “When we were in the garden, he kept telling me that he loved me—and the entire time he knew that he’d dishonored his pact with Devon. This is so unfair. You should have seen the absolute disbelief on Devon’s face when he realized Mr. Ludlow was speaking of debt. He looked as though Papa had slit his throat with a bowie knife.”
“Yes, I can see that might well have been his initial reaction, but in time surely he’ll come around and realize he gained so much more from marrying you than he would have gained with your father’s money.”
Georgina shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
For a time their marriage had held the promise of being glorious, and she’d forgotten that his quest for funds had motivated his actions. He’d treated her kindly not out of consideration, but from an overwhelming desire to receive her father’s money.
“In order for him to divorce you, you’d have to commit adultery,” Lauren said.
Now that Gina had fully experienced the intimacy of making love, she couldn’t imagine herself ever being in bed with another man. Although she and Devon were little more than strangers, she’d still felt comfortable with him after the initial awkwardness had drifted away. She couldn’t imagine allowing a man who meant nothing at all to touch her.
“I don’t see that happening,” she muttered.
“You could divorce him if he raped you.”
She thought of the gentleness of his touch, the heat of his mouth, his calming, murmured words. “He’d never force himself on me.”
“He might abandon you. Then you could divorce him.”
She couldn’t see Devon leaving her behind, not physically anyway. But emotionally…She wondered if emotional abandonment was possible. She’d felt as though he’d erected a wall of ice between them as the solicitor had explained the dire situation.
“Why are you searching for ways for us to divorce?” she asked.
“Because it would get you both out of a situation that neither of you wants.”
A week ago she might have agreed she didn’t want this situation, but somewhere between his first kiss of her fingers and the comfort he’d offered immediately after her father had died—before her father’s poor judgment had become evident—she’d discovered she liked having Devon around.
She had an incredible urge to delve beneath the stuffy layers and discover the man beneath.
“I feel as though I owe it to him to stay. To be loyal. To right Papa’s wrong.”
“You’re not responsible for your father’s failure.”
“How can I not feel responsible, Lauren? Devon was willing to marry me, to give me children in exchange for money so he could rebuild his estate. The very least I can do is stand by Devon and help him out the best way I can.”
“What if he doesn’t want your help?” Lauren asked.
“I’m not sure men ever really know what they want. Besides I do have some feelings for him. There are times…” Her voice trailed off. How could she explain?
“What? Finish your thought,” Lauren urged.
“Times when he looks at me that I feel as though he might care for me a bit.”
“Of course he cares for you—if he has a lick of sense. Why do you persist in believing a man couldn’t love you?”
“Perhaps because no man ever has.”
The loneliness ate away at Georgina like a sore. She hadn’t seen Devon in three days, not since the solicitor’s hasty retreat.
She’d sat in her bedchamber, waiting for him to pay her a visit. She’d waited in vain.
Night after night at midnight she’d hear him pacing the hallway before withdrawing into his bedchamber. How fortunate they were to each have their own room.
Glancing in the mirror, she was not at all pleased with her appearance. Dark circles rested beneath her puffy eyes. She wore the blue dress that Devon seemed to favor. It would do well for this meeting.
Gathering her courage around her like a finely sewn cloak, she left her room and wandered to the library.
Pale light spilled out from beneath the closed doors. She considered knocking, but she wanted to give him no opportunity to rebuff her. Wrapping her fingers around the cold handle, she jerked it down, marched into the room, and froze.
Her husband, her dear husband, looked like hell.
He gazed at her through eyes that were as swollen and red as hers. A heavy beard shadowed his face. His hair—usually every black strand in place—stuck up at odd angles, deep furrows indicating that he might have repeatedly plowed his fingers through it. Several buttons were loosened on the white billowy shirt, which was wrinkled enough to have been slept in.
Papers were strewn over his desk in disarray.
With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his leather chair. “What do you want, countess?”
The weariness in his voice kept her temper in check. Quietly she closed the door and approached. “We need to talk.”
“Yes, I
suppose we do.”
As calmly as possible, she sat in the chair across from him. “What did you learn?”
“That your father did indeed somehow manage to lose everything.”
Her heart sank. How could her father have returned to gambling when he knew the misery it had brought them before? Why risk it? She clearly didn’t understand his obsession. All it took was one turn of the card, and he became completely lost.
Devon bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck. She eased up in the chair. “Can’t you explain that you aren’t responsible for his debts?”
He lifted his gaze and pinned her with an icy glare. “I would have gained his wealth from you, sweeting. I can’t very well turn his debts aside.”
“But if you tell those to whom he owed money that you haven’t got the means to pay—”
He slammed his fist on the desk, and she jerked like a puppet whose strings had just been yanked.
“No one is to know I haven’t the means,” he said in a tightly controlled voice.
“If we weren’t married, you wouldn’t have to concern yourself with his debt, would you?”
“But we are married.”
“We could get a divorce.”
His gaze hardened. “The men in my family do not go through the scandal of an expensive and time-consuming divorce.”
“My father did you a disservice. He failed to honor his word. Surely people will understand if you explain everything that happened and the reason you cast me aside.”
“My God. Each sentence that comes out of your mouth is worse than the one that came before it.” He slowly, menacingly stood, planted his hands on the desk, and leaned toward her. “As long as I breathe, no one is to ever know of this debacle. I shall find a way to rectify our dire financial situation.”
“If you knew of a way, you wouldn’t have resorted to marrying me in the first place.”
His defeated mien made her regret her words, but he had to understand that they could not remain together.
“Don’t be so proud,” she pleaded. “We can find a way to turn this disaster so it falls on me, and you won’t have to accept his debt.”
“Trust me, sweeting, your father’s debt is the least of my troubles. Pack your things. We’ll leave for Huntingdon in the morning. I’ve instructed my solicitor to place this house on the market.”
Disbelief coursed through her. “I can’t have everything in this huge house packed by morning.”
“Not everything. Only your things. If you’ve taken a fancy to some small item, you may pack it. Everything else stays.” He walked to the window and gazed out. “Everything else is to be sold.”
She thought her heart might crack at his despondency. “Oh, Devon. I am so sorry.” She slowly rose to her feet. “My father—”
“Your father did not uphold his end of the bargain. Therefore neither shall I uphold mine. I shall never again warm your bed.”
Her breath backed up painfully in her lungs with the realization he would disregard her feelings, her dreams, as though they possessed no more substance than a whisper in the wind. “What?”
He turned from the window. “My arrangement with your father. In exchange for his wealth, I agreed to give you a child.”
He waved his hand dispassionately, as she imagined kings had done just before they regretfully sent someone to the chopping block.
“I believe you’ll agree he left to me no wealth.”
He considered her no asset at all. Yet her father had spoken true words. Life was more than money, and suddenly she found herself with a desperate desire to have him see her as worthy of his affections. “I can offer you more than wealth. I can give you an heir.”
“I have an heir.”
She felt as though he’d jerked the Aubusson rug she was standing on out from beneath her. The room spun, and she grabbed onto the back of the chair. “You have a child?”
“Two. A son and a daughter. You’ll no doubt meet them when we return to Huntingdon.”
“No doubt? We’ll be living in the same house.”
“But in separate wings. Besides, they have a governess who looks after them. You need not bother yourself with them.”
He made them sound as though they were pets, not children.
“But what of a spare? I thought the aristocracy was keen on having two sons.”
“I shall make do with what I have. It seems to be an acceptable punishment for having acted in haste.”
“In greed. You acted in greed, Devon.”
“Arguing over semantics, my dear countess, will gain neither of us anything. Accept that you are the wife of an impoverished nobleman and be done with it. We can at least live together civilly if not luxuriously.”
She considered simply packing her bags, walking out on him, traveling back to Texas, and making her own way in the world. She still had the ticket her father had purchased for her guaranteeing her passage back to Texas before he’d made arrangements for her marriage.
But she couldn’t quite get past the notion that he had children. Children. Children who had a governess but no mother.
She angled her chin defiantly and nodded. “Very well. I’ll abide by your wishes for the moment. I owe you that much at least.”
Chapter 12
A s his coach journeyed along the road toward Huntingdon, Devon strove not to notice how his wife took delight in the rolling hills. She often reminded him of a child discovering the world and awed by its magnificence. Her high regard humbled him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a moment to appreciate the beauty of England.
Yet she was no child. She was a woman with a woman’s desires and needs. That she had so readily accepted his conditions for their continued association made him feel like a cantankerous curmudgeon. If she’d thrown a tantrum, as Margaret had often done, he might not have been sitting here feeling as though he was completely unworthy.
In his own defense, he’d held certain expectations regarding this marriage, and while his more gentlemanly self acknowledged she was not to blame for her father’s failure, the part of him struggling to survive had lashed out like a cornered animal on the brink of madness.
He’d been surprised to discover she’d managed to pack all her belongings in one small trunk. He’d not been present at his London home when her things had been brought over. Still, he’d assumed she’d have several trunks, boxes, and bags.
She assured him she’d left nothing behind. He couldn’t imagine Margaret traveling abroad with only one trunk. He’d always hired two wagons to cart her belongings from Huntingdon to London and back. He’d arranged the same hauling services for Gina, only to discover he didn’t require them.
He really needed to learn to stop expecting his current wife to behave as his former wife had. He couldn’t recall Margaret ever peering at the countryside and showing an appreciation for it. Perhaps that was the reason she’d come to hate his land. He could only hope that Gina would not find it as loathsome.
“I’ve been thinking,” she began unexpectedly.
“And here I thought you’d been enjoying the scenery.”
She gave him a wry smile. “I can do both.”
She twisted the wedding band on her finger, studying it a moment before lifting her gaze to him. “I was thinking you should return my ring to the jeweler.”
He’d purchased it when he’d expected riches, when generosity was an easy matter. Necessity would turn him back into a miserly creature.
A miserly and fearful creature. He’d banned himself from her bed because he knew that once she understood the true poverty of their existence, she’d toss him out on his arse. His pride couldn’t handle another exile. It was much easier to attack than to defend.
Margaret had taught him that lesson well.
“It’s not necessary that you sacrifice the ring,” he said quietly.
She intertwined her fingers and pressed her hands together as though to protect the ring. Her hands were not soft like a lady�
�s. He remembered the callused tips digging into his buttocks after the roughened palms had skimmed over his damp back. Her touch, unlike any he’d ever felt before, had enamored him. He shouldn’t have been so hasty to deny himself the pleasure of it.
“I have some jewelry that belonged to my mother. I have no idea what it’s worth, but it might pay off a few of my father’s debts,” she offered.
It had been a long while since he’d felt the stirrings of humanity. Taking money from her father was one thing, to take a precious item from her unthinkable.
“I doubt it would make enough difference to truly matter.”
She gazed out the window again. If she was anxious about arriving at her new home, she didn’t allow it to show. In profile, her long, slender neck reminded him of a graceful swan’s. There were aspects to her person that when he took the time to notice them he found remarkably appealing.
But it seemed he was always rushing through life, striving so hard to put his situation back on an even keel that he missed the finer moments of simply being. Idleness had always seemed contrary to his nature. With a great deal of concentration, he’d learned to master sitting for hours, giving the appearance of doing nothing.
But even a carriage ride tested his patience. He would be more content to be walking alongside. Although he was traveling a great distance, sitting here made him feel as though he was wasting his time.
He needed to do something.
If her fidgeting was any indication, Georgina experienced the same impatience. An Englishwoman would sit perfectly still no matter how badly she wished to move. She understood decorum and all its subtle nuances.
His wife knew little about playing the game.
“How is it that you’d never been kissed?”
She snapped her attention away from the countryside, her dark brows furrowing. It was strange how the more he gazed at her, the less unattractive she seemed. Her features didn’t change, but his perception of them did.
“What?”
And his perception of her was altering. He now realized her question didn’t indicate that she hadn’t heard him, but rather she was having a difficult time believing he’d asked what he had.
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