Was he going to cut her, too? She couldn’t bear to see it happen, and yet, she could not seem to make herself turn away. And besides, where was there to go?
She stared at him helplessly, tears of mortification blurring him before her eyes. She wanted to die. An earthquake would be ideal, one that would split the perfectly manicured grass and allow the earth swallow her up. Unfortunately, despite what Denys’s family thought of her, she was no witch and could not conjure up earthquakes with a magic spell.
God help me, she thought. What am I going to do?
Chapter 17
She looked like a stricken doe surrounded by hunters. And the hunters, he noted as he glanced around, were out for blood. A glance at his father’s face told him some of those hunters were in his own family. Denys moved, taking a protective step toward her, but a hand curled around his arm, stopping him.
He turned his head and found Georgiana staring at him, her gray eyes wide and appalled. “Denys, what are you doing?” she whispered. “You can’t be thinking to actually walk over and speak to that woman?”
He returned his gaze to Lola. He’d never seen her look this way—mortified and frightened. It was so unlike her, and he knew she was waiting to see what he would do. “Of course I shall speak to her,” he said, keeping his voice low and as matter-of-fact as possible. “She is my business partner. We discussed that fact only yesterday, Georgiana.”
“Being her business partner does not mean you can acknowledge her publicly!”
That sort of hair-splitting was so absurd he nearly laughed. “I see no way to be one without doing the other.” He glanced over to where Lola was still standing on the lawn surrounded by a sea of faces, avid and eager for scandal, and he knew all of them were wondering what he intended to do. “We can discuss this later. Everyone is waiting on my action, and I cannot allow her to be humiliated this way a moment longer.”
“Humiliated?” Georgiana tightened her grip on his arm before he could turn away. “If you speak to her, if you even acknowledge her, it is I who am humiliated,” she choked. “Do you not see that?”
He shook his head, knowing what she was expecting, knowing he could not do it. “I will not give her the cut, Georgiana. Even for you, I will not do that.”
She made a sound—surprise, outrage, pain—he didn’t know which because he hadn’t seen her display any of these emotions before, not since they were children. Without warning, tears welled up in her eyes. “I knew it,” she whispered. “I’ve always known.”
And then, Georgiana, admired by all for her self-control and restraint, began to cry. Her hand slid away from his arm, she ducked around him, and ran for the house.
Christ Almighty.
He couldn’t go after her, for he had an even more pressing problem than Georgiana’s tears. He took another step toward Lola, but he was stopped again, this time by an unmistakably masculine grip. He turned, ready to tell his father not to interfere in his affairs, only to find it was Jack behind him.
“Georgiana’s right, old boy.”
“I won’t give Lola the cut, Jack,” he muttered. “I won’t.”
“Acknowledge her, if you must. But you can’t go over there and speak to her. If you do, everyone will see it as a slap in Georgiana’s face. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“I know, but hell, Jack, I can’t leave Lola standing there in limbo.”
“I’ll take care of Lola. You go after Georgiana. You must,” he added, as Denys opened his mouth to argue. “Georgiana’s the girl you’re thinking to marry.” He paused, his dark eyes looking into Denys’s. “Isn’t she?”
Denys knew the answer to that question, knew it with abrupt and absolute certainty, but he also knew his sudden realization didn’t change the fact that Jack was right. He nodded. “Get Lola out of here.”
“I’ll run the gauntlet with her, never fear.” He winked. “Right past Conyers and all the rest.”
“Linnet won’t like it,” Denys felt compelled to point out.
“No,” his friend agreed, and grinned. “But my wife has been angry with me many times before. I’m sure she’ll be angry with me quite a few times more before I’m finally laid in the ground.”
With that, Jack turned and started toward Lola, who was standing with her friend, pretending a vast interest in the roses and trying her best to ignore the fact that everyone within fifty feet was observing her.
He waited as Jack walked to her side, bowed to her, and offered his arm, and it hurt to know that he’d had to allow a friend the honor of rescuing her.
Jack and Lola started in his direction, her friend trailing a couple of feet behind them, and as they approached, Denys’s gaze slid to his family. They stood huddled together about a dozen feet from him—Susan, with her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide, his mother, displaying all the stoic calm a lady could manage in these circumstances, and lastly, his father, stone-faced and grim. He met the reproach in the earl’s eyes with an unwavering gaze of his own before returning his attention to the couple coming across the grass. As she passed, he bowed to her, a polite but brief acknowledgment that, though it might offend Georgiana, wouldn’t be a public insult to her.
Lola gave him a nod in return and strolled on by, but though his duty to her was done, he waited until Jack had seen her through the gates and into the park before he turned his attention to the house and another duty, one that he suspected was going to be every bit as painful.
He knew Georgiana well enough to know where he’d find her, and it didn’t take long to confirm his guess had been right. For he’d barely started down the corridor to Bute’s music room before the melancholy notes of a Chopin concerto floated to his ears. In the doorway, he paused, and seeing her over the piano reminded him of when they were children and they’d played duets together.
He felt now all the same warm affection he’d felt for her then, but that was all he felt, and he knew now it was all he would ever feel. He also knew it was not enough, not for him. It could never be enough.
The music stopped, and she looked up, and though it was a hard, hard thing to look into her eyes, he did it. They were dry now, no sign of tears, but he could still see pain in their gray depths. He took a deep breath, removed his hat, and said the only thing that a gentleman could say in such circumstances.
“I’m sorry, Georgiana.”
She lifted her chin a little higher, a proud gesture that reminded him of Lola though he doubted Georgiana would have seen that particular comparison as a compliment. She swallowed hard. “Just what,” she said in a choked voice, “are you sorry for, Denys?”
He suspected they both knew the answer to that question, but of course, it had to be said aloud.
“I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry for it,” he said simply. “That has never been my intent. I have a great deal of fondness and affection for you, and have always regarded you as a dear friend. But—”
He stopped as she closed her eyes, and he waited for her to open them again before saying the rest. “But I have come to realize it is not enough for marriage.”
She did not reply. Instead, she lifted her hands from the piano, and they trembled a little as she clasped them together. She steepled her index fingers, pressing the tips to her lips, considering her next words with care. “But surely,” she said at last, “fondness and affection—along with suitability, of course—are the perfect foundation for marriage.”