Chapter 23 - GEORGINA—DID HE JUST PROPOSE?

Chapter 23

GEORGINA—DID HE JUST PROPOSE?

Iwatched the duke pace outside Lydia’s bedchamber. The heavy door painted light blue with picture-frame molding separated us from the bed where the sick little girl lay. The willow bark tea lessened her fever, but it hadn’t broken. Bloodletting would be done within the hour.

Our Lydia seemed to be hovering between lucidity and pain, life and death. And there was nothing I nor my sisters could do.

Scarlett, who I sent to get a few hours of sleep, felt so guilty. It was she who had convinced the duke to try the willow. Was the delay of Carew’s procedure worth the slight improvement?

“Your Grace, perhaps you should try to get a little sleep. We don’t need you relapsing with your spring cold.”

“Thank you, Miss Wilcox. It’s good to count on someone to look after my health. It’s good to have someone concerned for another.”

“Well, I am grateful for you. You’ve proven we Wilcoxes can count upon you.”

The duke looked up with bushy, unkempt eyebrows. “Your sister Katherine was right. I didn’t know what to do. But I’ll be damned if I don’t try everything. My Anya, my little sister, suffered. I didn’t have the means to be of aid. Up until now, I have had everything but a reason to be generous. Your family gives me a reason.”

“Katherine will fight you. She can’t help it. But my sister must see you’re doing the best for Lydia.”

“Your sister doesn’t trust me. I know. I made a promise to Anya . . . Lydia. I will fix all the problems.”

“How do you intend to do that? Be a part of her life forever? If Mr. Carew is right, there is no cure. This struggle will continue, and as good as you are to us, our season ends after your ball.”

Music filtered in the air.

It was soft, delicate to my ears.

Another one of Pleyel’s hymns.

“I suppose I’d need a reason more than friendship to be connected to the Wilcoxes. Something permanent and legal. I think I know how to solve this connection problem and your scandal.”

“What, Your Grace?” I stretched. We were in dire need of levity or a miracle. He might have one. “Tell me.”

“Well, from what I see, Miss Wilcox, you’re spoken for. Pity, you’d make a hell of a duchess. Unless you aren’t?”

What did he just say? “Not your duchess?” I looked at him with amusement. “And you know it. Why are you trying to make me laugh?”

“True. It is a joke, but maybe it shouldn’t be.”

“Say what, Your Grace?” I forced my bulging eyes back into my skull. “You’re kidding?”

“Forgive me for thinking aloud, but you are reasonable.”

“Reasonable? Not beautiful or charismatic or smitten with unimaginable love. No thank you to this line of thinking.”

“There are plenty of reasons to marry other than love. A wife who’s a friend, and a friendship that cements familial bonds is something to consider. In sickness and health, a partnership . . . a partner who will look after one another, making sure they are protected and their wishes are carried out is important.”

“In sickness and in health is an important vow. Shouldn’t there be more to marriage?”

“When you realize you can’t have what you want, you must take what you deserve. I need peace. Making a tranquil life is something one can claim. Maybe it’s something we can claim.”

My heart pounded.

He was serious.

Had Katherine been right? Had she noticed a connection between the duke and me, other than friendship? Noooo. He was like a brother, a good one. “What are you saying? Be clear.”

The duke rolled his insignia ring about his finger. “There’s too much mourning in Sebastian’s song. Too much in my house and my heart. Sometimes you have to ask yourself, why keep fighting? Why war for the hope of love when friendship might be better? It definitely adds more tranquility to a life that’s been spent alone.”

The hymn Mark played was exactly that, mournful and low as an air of defeat wrapped around the duke’s words. For the first time, I looked at an influential man of riches, born to a station so much higher than mine, and saw nothing but sadness.

“Your Grace, I know you aren’t asking me to marry you.”

He said nothing and moved to the rail overlooking the first floor. The gold thread in his waistcoat glittered like the ones in the rug.

I glanced at the marble tiles below. Up here, they were puzzle pieces. The picture they formed was complete and orderly, not out of place or confused like my spirit.

This marriage offer from a duke would make my mother proud. So much good could be done for my family if I said yes.

Slight squeaks made me notice that the duke had changed from boots to slippers, low ones. They looked comfortable. The man needed comforting. Every time he stepped into Lydia’s sickroom, Katherine’s scowl ripped him to pieces.

My sister’s disapproval tormented him, but marriage to me wasn’t to be a means of avenging her disregard. I’d not be comfort to a man I didn’t love. “Your Grace—”

“Yes, Miss Wilcox.” He stooped and picked up a bit of lint from the carpet threads.

I froze, thinking he’d knelt to propose.

When he bounded up, I breathed again. “Very nice rug, Your Grace. I like the one you’ve laid for Lydia. She likes to leap out of bed. It will be good for her feet.”

“I hope after Carew’s procedure she will be up soon, Miss Wilcox. She’s too young to suffer.”

I glanced away from his mourning spirit and examined the beautiful tapestry below my slippers. It was nice and thick, gold and cream. It seemed perfect for toes, while on the lower floors, the glorious tile and marble said formal shoes and full court dresses. This was the duke’s life, a public side and a hidden personal one. My heart went out to a man who had everything and nothing.

“You’re too young to suffer, Your Grace. Do not let my sister’s opinion, which had to have been formed by Tavis, make you think less of yourself. It sounds so stupid telling a duke that he shouldn’t settle, that he’s worthy to be loved.”

With his humanity shining in his hazel eyes, he glanced at me. “Lord Mark is a fool if he lets you go.”

“I wasn’t. We’re not—”

“I talked to Sebastian. He could’ve left at any time. He went away last night merely to pack a portmanteau of clothes. He should be working on his new composition for the Harlbert’s Prize, but he stays for you.”

I crossed my arms, covering the bodice of my wrinkled brown gown. “He hasn’t said this to me.”

“Words shouldn’t matter so much, not with clear actions.”

Mark stayed for me.It touched my heart, but this was wrong. “I should tell him to work—”

“Tell him that you love him. That he’s too young to suffer, thinking he’s a failure because he’s not a winning composer. You told me not to settle. I tell you to look and see what I see. Do not forsake love. You might not have a chance to reclaim it.”

“This is all pretend, Your Grace. Remember your plan. I think it’s succeeding. Plenty of people saw us in Hyde Park. I like Lord Mark a lot, but once the ball is over, the scandal will be over.”

“Over, truly?” He put the lint in a pocket and stretched like the world was weighing on his shoulders. “Steele has picked up more gossip sheets. They’ve run tattle pieces or the foul cartoon on the scandal.”

“Oh. It’s been so many days since the incident in the garden. It should go away.”

“Becoming a duchess would make everything go away. It would also keep all the Wilcoxes in my life. That’s the peace I can attain. I would be happy. I could make you happy too.”

It was an honor to have an offer from the Duke of Torrance. A marriage would secure everything but my heart’s happiness.

“The only reason to refuse, Miss Wilcox, would be to admit your heart is taken.”

“We’ve caused so much trouble being on this side of the river. It will be best for the Wilcoxes to go back across the Thames and find ways to keep Wilcox Coal afloat. Then a friend wouldn’t have to feel obligated to take care of us. We shouldn’t be your or Lord Mark’s concern.”

“Who should be concerned? When you told me of the debts, it was not new information. I’d discovered every loan Lord Hampton took out. I even sent wages to Mr. Thom.”

“We are so indebted to you.” There was no way to pay him back. Mere friendship wasn’t enough. “I don’t know what to say.”

When I lifted my chin, I witnessed anger roiling in his eyes. “Lord Hampton and I were friends a long time. I knew exactly who he was. The secrets he took to the grave are grievous, but that’s who Tavis Palmers was. His debts are not yours to pay. You make decisions for yourself.”

Nonetheless, accepting the duke’s proposal would be payment, payment in full.

“A marriage of convenience is the obvious choice. Your Grace, I should say yes, but what happens if I say no?”

His lips thinned for a moment, and I took the time to look at his handsome face, the thin mustache that curled about his dimples, the wavy hair that needed brushing like his brows. He was tall and fit and towered over me in a way that made me feel secure.

“We can’t go back to how we were a year ago, Georgina.”

He used my given name. His slight accent made it sound like Yorvina. It was pretty and delicate. That’s not me. “Would that be bad to go back, Your Grace? We walked as strangers by the Thames, then as friends.”

“I listened to the difficulties you shared. Our friendship is peaceful. You are beauty and grace.”

“You make a compelling argument, Your Grace, but won’t I be a shadow of what you truly want?”

For the first time his gaze broke.

He shoved his hands behind his back and turned. “A shadow can demand I leave your lives. I don’t want to fight her or feel like a stranger anymore.”

It made sense.

All of it.

Somehow Katherine came between the two friends, who both loved her. When she returned home from her great adventure changed, broken, who had her heart? Which man had thrown it away?

I wanted to know, but Wilcoxes kept secrets too.

This one was Katherine’s, the secrets as well as the duke’s heart.

I put a palm to his sleeve and turned him to me. “You’re the kindest man. I am forever your friend. And as your friend, I’m going to pretend this conversation did not happen. That my mother who worshiped titles is not tossing about demanding that I become the Duchess of Torrance.”

“How does one forget a logical conclusion? Lady Hampton believed it possible for us to have an attachment. Why shouldn’t we marry? I need to belong. I want you all to belong to me.”

My anger at Katherine pushed me down the rebel’s path, but I couldn’t do this to her. “I don’t know what to say. My family needs a champion, but I thought it would be one of us girls.”

“Then I will say the answer. Nyet. I must renege and be a heel. Family obligations have doomed many girls.” He threaded his fingers together. “You can’t marry someone in love with another. You and Lord Mark Sebastian have an understanding even if you can’t acknowledge it.”

“And you have one with Katherine.”

My wait for him to acknowledge my words was for naught. The duke gripped my hand and kissed it. “The composer’s no fool. He must see the jewel you are. He’s blinded by his belief that he has to win a prize to be successful. Having a full heart and a house of love are the greatest successes.”

It was my turn to not acknowledge what the duke said.

My heart could be wrong. Yet, I hoped he was right, that Mark did love me as I loved him.

“He has the talent to win the Harlbert’s Prize, Your Grace. I’m not going to talk him out of his desire.”

“Maybe he needs someone to tell him the truth. Maybe that someone is a bold young woman who kissed a stranger in a garden and rejected a duke.”

“If Lord Mark and I share something of meaning, it can wait until he finishes. He can—”

“Nyet. The newspapers are creating folly. Until they have a new scandal, they’ll repeat their lies and make you and Sebastian laughingstocks. So let a man decide what’s important. Don’t take away his choices. He’ll hate that more.”

The duke’s pacing began again.

I decided to give him some. “That little girl loves you. We all do. And I must tell you, Lydia had decided to marry you before she gave you to one of us. Don’t take the child’s suggestions so literally. Or, if you can’t change things with Katherine, wait twenty or more years, Lydia will accept you.”

Deep, baritone chuckles—the duke laughed with his whole chest. “You, Georgina, are a treasure. But rest assured, I do not plan to be alone for the next twenty years. I’ll claim a duchess.”

He didn’t say anything about love or loving again. That was tragic.

“Why haven’t you tried to win her again?”

His chin dipped. “Reasons. Far too many of them.”

With his slippers, he smoothed a wrinkle in the rug. “This is a rya. My mother weaves them on large looms. She also creates tapestries for the walls. The rya keeps the home warm. I find the polished floors very cold.”

“In the absence of love, you have a rya? What is stopping you, Your Grace, from telling my sister that you’ve never stopped loving her?”

Head craning to the ceiling, he stretched his arms wide. “When you find art, you have to hold on to it. But the artist has to want you to claim it. She wants nothing to be mine.”

“Is that what happened, Your Grace? You couldn’t hold on to Katherine, and Tavis stole her away?”

The door to the bedroom opened. Mr. Carew came out. I saw a picture of him in my mind—Mama’s last doctor, and then him leaving Tavis that final time.

And I prayed this wasn’t another of those moments. “Mr. Carew, please.”

“Miss Wilcox, Lydia is resting easier. We shall try the bloodletting. Where’s Miss Scarlett? She should be here.”

“Changed your mind on leading strings, Carew?”

He flashed a smile of perfectly white teeth. “A learned man can learn. And Miss Scarlett Wilcox should witness the results which she also advocated.”

“I’ll go get her.” I turned in the direction of the bedchamber Mr. Steele had assigned us. “Then I will run . . . and make some biscuits.”

“His Grace’s kitchen could save lives from his spice wall alone.” Carew’s voice traveled down the corridor.

I wanted to ask him about his favorite treat, the kartoshka. “Your Grace—”

But he was already half inside. I watched him slip behind Katherine. She’d barely moved from her spot at the side of Lydia’s bed.

Like a pendulum swinging, the heavy door closed.

Nothing could be heard, not even arguing.

That feeling of helplessness surrounded me like a heavy shawl, the sobering pianoforte’s music playing in the atmosphere.

“This is going to work,” Mr. Carew said. “Hurry your sister.” He went back inside.

I ran to Scarlett’s room, wishing for favor and time.

Yet neither waited for anything, not deadlines or patience or passion, or even love.