Chapter Thirteen

"Ah, here is the teacart," James said. "Who knew talking with visitors would have me so famished? Have a seat, Lord Edgethorne."

It was just the five of them, so James sat beside Sophie and the marquess took a seat next to Georgie. She caught a hint of his cologne, and it brought back memories of last night, dancing in his arms.

Mama sat in a wingback chair nearby. As Sophie poured out for them, Lord Edgethorne asked, "Did you have many callers this afternoon?"

"Quite a few," Sophie replied, handing the marquess a cup and saucer. "I told His Grace he does not need to be present every afternoon."

"And I believe with all those bachelors coming around, I need to be here to evaluate their character and see if they are good enough for my sister or not," James said. He glanced to Mama. "I think Her Grace can determine whether or not a suitor is worthy of her."

"You know perfectly well that I am as capable as Mama of deciding on the worth of a suitor," Georgie said, accepting the saucer from Sophie.

"Your brother is right, my lady," the marquess said. "Some men will appear utterly charming and not show their true nature when wooing a lady. I assume, being a duke's daughter, that you have an ample dowry. As a man who once attended balls with regularity before I left for war, I can tell you that many gentlemen are only interested in the dowry a bride can bring to them. You should appreciate your brother aiding you in your search for a husband. He might be able to unearth if any suitor has an ulterior motive better than you could."

"I am not truly searching for a husband this Season, my lord," she told their visitor.

"No?" he asked, frowning.

"I will merely enjoy the social activities of the Season," she emphasized. "Would I like to find a husband? Of course. But Pippa, my twin, wed for love. So did James and Sophie. They are shining examples to me, and I plan to do the same. That means I am not actively on the hunt for a gentleman to wed this Season—or any Season. I do not believe you can force love, my lord. If I cross paths with a man whom I have much in common with and who holds the same values I do, my heart will tell me if he is the one."

Georgie took a breath, surprised she had shared so openly with Lord Edgethorne. Then again, she wanted to give him an idea of what she was looking for.

And perhaps, he might be the one.

The marquess grew thoughtful. "I do not know of many in the ton who make love matches, Lady Georgina. My parents' marriage was arranged, as a majority of marriages are."

"But I have seen love, Lord Edgethorne," she said earnestly. "I have witnessed the joy on James' face when Sophie walks into a room. I watched how Pippa and Seth were with one another, falling more deeply in love each day. I want that for myself. I refuse to settle."

She paused, adding, "But already, too many men have fawned over me because I have a pretty face. I want a gentleman to see beyond that. He needs to get to know me, beyond my appearance. The man who does that and who touches my heart will be the one for me. He will become my best friend and the love of my life. He will not merely sire our children. He will actively help raise them. You see, I not only want love for myself. I want a man who is not afraid to show love to his children. My own father barely said anything to me in the years he was alive. I want my husband to be a true part of my life and our children's.

"And I do not believe that is asking too much."

Lord Edgethorne looked taken aback by her revelations. "You are seeking quite a bit, my lady."

"I disagree, my lord. I only want what my heart wants. To be heard. To be seen. To be loved."

He looked at her a long moment with his one eye, the green startling in color.

"I do hope you find happiness, my lady."

No one said a word. Georgie had thought her words might provoke the marquess into revealing what he was looking for in a wife.

"Are you seeking happiness, my lord?" she asked, hearing Sophie's quick intake of breath. "Would you wed for love?"

He rested his saucer on the table. "I no longer have that luxury, Lady Georgina," he said stiffly. "Not that I thought I would ever marry, much less for love. As a man now holding a title, however, I promised my brother that I would attend this Season and find a bride."

Edgethorne shook his head. "You saw the reception I received last night. Despite my family's good name, my title, and wealth, it will be an uphill battle to find any woman who would consider marriage to me. To answer your question? I do not seek happiness, nor do I expect to ever find love. The best I can hope for is a marriage of convenience, where my wife will receive the title of marchioness."

She frowned. "Would that not bore you, my lord?"

"On the contrary, I think it is the best solution. I plan to retire to the country upon my marriage. My wife may remain in town. Or perhaps I will go to Scotland and Dalmara, so that she and the children could spend time at Edgefield."

"You said the children. Not our children."

"Yes, I did," he said evenly. "I will not see my children penalized because of my appearance. I will not have them bullied or talked about. The best thing I can do for them would be to allow their mother to raise them, be it in town or Edgefield. Or a combination of both. Having me around would do them no favors." He shrugged. "In all honesty, it would break my heart to see how frightened they would be of me. I know what I am now, my lady. I am a beast. Scarred beyond hope."

He held up his left hand, and for the first time, Georgie saw he was missing three of this fingers.

"It would be hard to lift a child, much less play with one, with my damaged hand." Lord Edgethorne shook his head sadly. "I will do my duty and see that there will be an heir to the title. I would not make my wife suffer by having to live with me every day and look at me. If I did, she would grow to curse me."

The marquess set down the saucer and stood. "I am sorry to have put such a damper on teatime today. I simply have to live with the reality of what I am. Polite Society will be done with me soon enough. As soon as I can find a woman willing to wed a monster, I will be gone and never darken London again."

Glancing to Sophie, he said, "Thank you for your invitation to tea, Your Grace." He looked to her mother. "It is always good to see you, as well, Your Grace. I will see myself out."

Georgie's throat grew thick with unshed tears. She wanted to rush after him but sat frozen in her seat.

When the door closed behind him, James said, "That poor man. He is a good soul, trapped with such a disfigurement."

"I like him a great deal," Sophie said. "I hate that he will settle for a marriage of convenience. Then again, I understand how very few ladies would wish to become his wife."

Mama nodded sadly. "If he makes known that he not only seeks a marriage of convenience, but also that he will grant his marchioness a great deal of freedom in their marriage, I believe he will find a bride rather quickly. It is too bad. You can see he was a handsome man."

She stood, fisting her hands. "He is still a handsome man, Mama," she spit out. "Why no one, least of all Edgethorne, can see that is beyond me."

She rushed from the room, no longer wanting tea or to be around anyone. If she went to her bedchamber or the library or to play her pianoforte, one of them was bound to follow her. Georgie decided to go sit in the park in the center of the square. It was the only place she could think of where she might truly be alone.

Not bothering with a bonnet, she went to the foyer. The footman on duty stood.

"May I assist you with something, my lady?" he asked.

"No. I am merely going to go and sit in the park and think. The day is pleasant. After so many visitors today, I need some quiet time to myself."

"Of course, my lady."

He opened the door for her, and she felt his eyes upon her as she crossed the street and entered the private garden area. It wasn't large, but it held several benches and had become her place of refuge over the years when she wanted time to think.

Plopping on a bench, she blew out a frustrated breath.

Lord Edgethorne wanted a marriage of convenience. He wanted nothing to do with his wife or children. He wanted to retreat to Scotland and become a recluse. All because of the wounds of war.

Anger filled her. He had no right to go and hide away from society. He was an interesting man. And a handsome one. She didn't understand why others didn't find it easy to look past his scars. They weren't that bad. They actually made his face more handsome. And who cared if he only had one eye? The one he did have was a vivid green, drawing her in.

He deserved more from Polite Society for the sacrifices he had made. He was a good man and would make for a wonderful husband and father. She just knew it. In her heart. In her soul.

Georgie burst into tears.

She wanted Lord Edgethorne as her husband.

"Oh, bloody hell!" she shouted, leaping to her feet. "Bloody, bloody hell!"

She had fallen in love with the blasted man. With a man who did not seem to believe love existed—or at least that it could never exist for him, what with his altered appearance.

How had this happened?

One minute she was simply being nice to him. Liking him. Wanting her family to help befriend him and ease him into Polite Society. Then the next, her heart had gone off and done the unthinkable.

She simply couldn't love him. She couldn't be in love with him. She deserved a man who would return her love. Who would be by her side during the good and bad times in their marriage. A man who would hold her hand and tell her he loved and worshipped her, even when her belly was swollen with his child and she looked like a beached whale. She needed a man who would not only love her, but also love their children. One who would let them ride on his shoulders and tell them stories and sing to them.

Not a man who ran away to Scotland and abandoned his wife and family.

Georgie angrily wiped at her tears, turning to go.

And ran into a solid wall. No, not a wall. Merely a very tall, very broad, very muscular man.

"You!" she cried, pushing hard against his chest with the heels of her hands.

He didn't go anywhere.

"Are you all right?" Lord Edgethorne asked.

She eyed him. "Do I look all right to you, my lord?"

He flushed. "No, you don't, my lady."

"Why are you even here?" she complained. "This is my spot. My thinking spot."

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "I thought this park was shared by our two families."

"Well, I am using it now," she said stubbornly. "So you can leave. Just like you left tea. That was incredibly rude, you know."

He nodded. "I do know. And I apologize." He paused. "Why are you crying?"

"Because I am frustrated," she told him. "About a lot of things. But mostly, about you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," she said firmly. "Now, please go away so I might think. If you don't, I will not be able to ponder my problems sufficiently, and I will be in a foul mood at tonight's ball. Which—if you ask me to dance—I will not do so. I am not one of your supposed wallflowers who wish to wed you for your money and title, my lord."

"You would not dance with me if I asked nicely?" he asked, his tone teasing.

"No. I would not," she said stubbornly, no longer willing to allow him to hurt her. "I must focus on eligible candidates for my hand. You are not amongst that group. We are definitely at odds, Lord Edgethorne. I wish for a man who will treat me with respect. A man who is man enough to tell me that he loves me. Multiple times a day. My husband will be someone who surprises the ton by treating me as his equal. And he will love his children madly. Just as passionately as he loves me.

"You, on the other hand, want nothing to do with love. Or even the things a good marriage is supposed to be about. You want to marry a stranger whom you tempt with your title and wealth. Get her with child and have her produce an heir for you. And then abandon them." Georgie sniffed. "You are the last man I would ever wed, my lord."

The marquess placed his hands on her shoulders. The heat from his fingers seemed to singe her through her clothes.

"What about kissing me, Lady Georgina? Am I the last man you would wish to kiss?"

Lord Edgethorne did not wait for Georgie's answer.

He simply kissed her.