Chapter 11 - GEORGINA—ESCAPE INTO THE GARDEN AGAIN

Chapter 11

GEORGINA—ESCAPE INTO THE GARDEN AGAIN

Trying not to slip on the polished floors of Anya House, I rushed past Scarlett and Lydia. They were on the stairs but didn’t stop their chatter. Me fleeing was a common occurrence.

“Miss, please wait.”

The gentleman chased after me.

In the garden, I was close to the maze’s entrance, but I stopped. I still didn’t know the way to the mews.

“Please. Miss Wilcox. Can we imagine that I caught you? And we do have an audience.”

Turning, I could see the window to the duke’s study. Katherine’s face was pressed against the glass. Then the duke closed the curtains.

“I suppose that means His Grace trusts you to convince me to return.”

Lord Mark Sebastian traipsed in front of me. “I don’t care about their antics. It’s ours—”

“Our antics? Don’t you mean mine? I’ve gotten us into this predicament.”

When I glanced at the gentleman to witness his agreement, I saw nothing but smiles. “What is this, sir? Why are you not angry?”

“Because I can talk, actually say words with you. I struggle with expressing clear thoughts with someone so beautiful.”

He seemed sincere. “I’m happy that you can be entertained, but our futures are ruined because of my impetuous nature.” I crossed my arms. I needed to leave Anya House . . . London . . . be anywhere but here. “Can you point me to the mews?”

“You can’t go. We have to work this out.”

“I don’t want to be a bother. And I don’t want someone to feign liking me, even for a moment.”

He stepped closer to me. “I kissed you back because I wanted to do so. I enjoyed every moment. If I must pretend to be your fiancé, I’ll do it with pride.”

I shielded my eyes from the bright sun, which made me squint at him. “I’ve made such a muddle of things.”

“Because you wanted to kiss me. Could I at least be humored? Did you find me irresistible?”

With a shrug I started to laugh. “It was to make my sister angry.”

“Well, you succeeded. And as a man who battles to be articulate around the fairer sex, your laughter does nothing for my confidence.”

One glance at the duke’s window, I saw the curtains move. “They aren’t giving us privacy.” I groaned and walked to the opening of the maze. “Be a dear and tell me how to get to the mews.”

“Can’t tell you, Miss Wilcox, not till we know what our plan is. We are in this together.”

“Why, sir? Can you tell me that?”

He rubbed at his throat and his breathing became heavier. Then he settled and stared at my face. “Scandals are difficult. My father, the Marquis of Prahmn, he’s taken great pleasure in embarrassing people he’s had difficulties with or whom he judges as not being worthy. I’ve seen how their pain is exploited. Once the newspapers are alerted to the slightest innuendo, your good name will be ruined. I saw two young ladies on the stairs. I’m assuming those are your sisters.”

“They are Wilcoxes. Scarlett and Lydia Wilcox.”

His hand fluttered near mine, but then fell away to his side. “They will pay, you know. My mother’s sisters . . . I don’t want your sisters to pay for what we’ve done.”

Magnanimous, he was. But this was purely my fault. Sticking my palms into the pockets of my emerald coat, I needed to own the truth alone. “You shall be fine. Why lie about being engaged?”

“We don’t have a choice, Miss Wilcox.”

“There’s always a choice.”

He looked away to a white-and-blue bird that sat at the top of the high shrub wall. It screeched something awful. “The magpie has an odd song and terrible reputation, but they are gentle.”

“You do love birds. That’s not a lie, Lord Mark Sebastian.”

“No, Miss Wilcox. And though I made a terrible mistake of assuming you were something . . . someone else, I want you to know that I am sincere. I am gentle. I will not have you hurt in this.”

“But you won’t be hurt. Men always get away with everything.”

“Who will take my music seriously if my personal life is terrible?”

“Lord Byron is scandalous. His poems are adored.”

“Miss Wilcox, there’s a difference between being a dashing rebel and a laughingstock. I will be a buffoon. And you will be ruined. We can’t have that.”

This man, this stranger who held me and kissed me back with passion and abandon, wanted my trust. I wasn’t sure why, other than maybe he was the rarest of souls, one with a strong sense of decency.

“Believe it or not, Miss Wilcox, I don’t want your name in the rubbish papers or any gossip’s mouth.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You knew me enough to kiss me.” He reached again as if to touch my coat sleeve. “That was a small joke.” Standing tall, he lifted his chin. “I’m Mark Sebastian, the son of the Marquess of Prahmn. I’m a composer. I want to write of love and throwing caution to the wind. Our moment in the garden was the closest I’ve ever come to being bold.”

“I’m Georgina Wilcox. I bake a little. I like music. I sing too. Are you any good at creating songs?”

“Very good. Well, sort of good. But lately, I can’t concentrate.” He tapped his temple again. “My next sonata is lodged in here. I can see it, the beginning notes on paper. There’s a crescendo. Then nothing. Livingston says I’m too tense. He says my muse is blocked.”

“Muse,” I sighed. “Is that a scientific thing? Is it an appendage or something?”

He nodded. “Every creator must have one. I chose mine to be you.”

“Sir, if you expect me to be the courtesan your friend wanted, I am not her.”

His head dipped. I could see his lips moving.

“Are you praying, sir? Prayer does help.”

“No. Yes, it does. And maybe I should be praying for you to agree. I’m not Byron. I don’t dare walk on the wild streets. My friend Livingston had to procure a courtesan because I couldn’t . . . This isn’t helping. Honesty is overrated, but it’s all I have.”

I reached for him, his coat sleeve of fine blue wool. “Honesty is the best start.”

His fingers covered mine. It was an easy touch, a light hold. “Can I pretend to have fallen head over heels for the mysterious Miss Wilcox? Can I for once walk into a dinner and know I have a partner without someone politely looking around for another person with wealthier pockets?”

Looking up to the magpie, who’d suddenly gone silent, as if it too waited for me to gain courage and agree, I decided to try. “You sound desperate. Our situation is desperate. Maybe a lie is right? No. That can’t be.”

“Then let’s make this as true as possible.” He cleared his throat. “Can I be daring and protect you? Can I dance on the edge of scandal and know that my reputation can only increase? This union serves me well.”

“You sound envious of Byron. You want to be Lord Byron? He’s a scoundrel.”

“I want his freedom. And for the first time in a long time, I saw more of my song in my head when I kissed you. So if a little courtship can get you away from scandal, enhance my reputation, and provide the notes to complete my sonata, it will be worth it. I will be truly heartbroken when you break off with me at whatever event the duke has planned.”

“What if we do this and you remain unable to compose?”

“I’m positive that a live muse, one talking with me, is what I need. But we could kiss again and test my theory.”

“You make me laugh, Lord Mark Sebastian. I trust that the passion to protect me will remain. I’m not to be in more danger with you.”

His face tensed. The blue eyes clouded like a winter day. “Of course.”

“I need to think on this. Let us go back to the duke’s study.”

He didn’t offer to take my hand, but he walked at my side.

Stepping into the duke’s study, the calm I’d regained shattered under Katherine’s withering glare.