Chapter Five

August fled the bookshop—and Lady Georgina Strong—as if the place had caught on fire.

He instructed his coachman to head to the tailor's and quickly hopped inside the vehicle, afraid Lady Georgina would have the audacity to follow him out and demand that he finish their conversation.

She was the only person beyond a servant he had spoken to in months. After Peter's death, August had retreated to the country to lick his physical and emotional wounds. He had buried his older brother beside their father, standing at their graves a long time after the other mourners had left the cemetery. Those mourners who had attended the funeral gawked at him openly, making August withdraw even further into himself.

He had returned to Edgefield, the only visitor being the local doctor. Dr. Winters had served as an army doctor fresh from his medical training, gaining experience on the battlefields of North America. Winters had heard the villagers gossiping, appalled by August's scars, and the physician had come to offer his services to the new Marquess of Edgethorne.

Winters had told August it was important to keep the wounds moist and covered, different advice from what Dr. Morrow had offered. Morrow had kept August's bandages on for two solid weeks after his injuries before removing them, saying they needed air to heal.

Dr. Winters was of a different mind, saying the bandages would protect August. He also recommended honey to keep the itching and painful swelling down, especially since the salve Dr. Morrow had provided to August was now used up.

He agreed to leave the dressings on his face for another solid month, changing them out himself daily after washing the wounds with warm water and a mild soap and then coating them in honey before redressing the wounds.

After the month, he had begun leaving the dressings off, noting the color of the scars had faded from bright red to a softer shade of red. All these months later now, his scars were pink, obviously still visible, but a sight better than what they had been six months ago. He couldn't help but be mildly pleased that his appearance wasn't as harsh.

Dr. Winters had assured him the scars would continue to fade until approximately the one-year mark. At that point, any further change was unlikely. The physician had been very pleased that the honey had reduced the redness and that no infection had set in. Winters had agreed with Morrow in that minimizing movement was important. Neither physician wished for him to overexert the area, so he had spoken rarely since his battlefield injuries.

The only course of action open to August now, according to Dr. Winters, was to gently massage the scars which had formed. He recommended doing so for a few minutes each day, saying the massage would help break up any scar tissue which might form. August had kept to the routine, doing so upon awakening each morning.

Of course, there was nothing to do for his missing eye. Winters had August remove his eyepatch, and the physician had complimented Dr. Morrow's neat stitches. He had thanked the village doctor but had not seen him again after that.

He had remained on his country estate, learning everything he could about its management. He had an efficient steward who explained the overall needs of the estate and its tenants and then narrowed the scope, teaching August about crop cycles and rotations, planting and harvesting times, and leaving some fields fallow for a year. Edgefield also had livestock on its grounds, and he had gotten to know more about it, as well.

If it were up to him, he would have remained in the country his entire life.

But the promise he had made to Peter on his brother's deathbed haunted him. August knew he would need to attend the next London Season in order to find a bride. He would look to the wallflowers, the plain, homely girls he had never paid any attention to in the past. They always hovered in a corner, grouped together, their demeanor forlorn, knowing they had little in looks to offer a man.

A few of them, he recalled, were decent looking, simply shy in nature, gravitating toward those who would not judge them or force them to speak. At one time, he would have had his pick of the litter, attracting the most beautiful women to him. He had danced with diamonds of the first water when he was a carefree bachelor, before his army days. Now, he doubted any of them would even speak to him because of his appearance.

He vowed to take a wife this Season. His title and wealth alone would attract a good number of ladies of varying ages. At least, he hoped they would.

The one thing he did not want was a woman who pitied him. His marriage would be for procreation only. His wife would need to produce the expected heir. Hopefully, a spare, as well. They would then lead separate lives. He would allow the marchioness to raise their children as she saw fit. Perhaps she might even wish to remain in town and allow him free run at Edgefield.

August yearned to be in those children's lives, but he was afraid his looks would frighten them. He felt only part of a man these days. He would simply look with care for a woman of character and integrity, one worthy to be his marchioness and raise his children.

His thoughts drifted to his recent encounter with Lady Georgina Strong. She was definitely a beauty, and she would be sought after at any event she attended. The odd thing was that she had not blanched when she had seen his face, unlike servants in his own household. She had conversed with him as if he looked like he used to. It must have been her good breeding and inherent polite manners which caused her to be able to do so.

Yet August wondered why she had struck up a conversation with him to begin with. She herself had pointed out that it was inappropriate for them to even speak with one another, having not been introduced by a mutual acquaintance. She could have simply browsed the shelves without ever glancing in his direction. Yet not only had she started a conversation, but Lady Georgina had also continued it for some time. As if she wanted to talk with him.

In the old days, a woman such as Lady Georgina would be the exact woman he would be attracted to. She had dark brown hair and an unusual shade of eyes, what he would term cornflower blue. She was about five inches over five feet, tall for a woman, with ample breasts and wide hips. She was very feminine in her manner and dress, and he would have maneuvered her into the gardens at a ball and made sure he thoroughly kissed her soft, full lips.

Those days were over now. Even if she had prodded him for his name so she might ask him to tea, August believed she was merely being kind. Perhaps their paths would cross at some point during this next Season. He had not thought to dance any, but now he longed to do so.

Just one dance with her.

His carriage rolled to a stop, and the footman opened the door for August. He climbed from the vehicle and entered the tailor's shop, on time for his appointment.

The clerk who met him swallowed his shock and asked, "May I help you, my lord?"

"I have an appointment with Mr. Ragland. I am Lord Edgethorne."

"Of course, my lord. Please wait a moment, and I will fetch him."

He watched as the clerk went to a far corner of the shop and began an earnest conversation with an older gentleman who had a thick thatch of white hair. He assumed the man to be Ragland, and August watched as he slowly approached him, seeing he steeled himself.

Bowing, the tailor said, "Good afternoon, my lord. May I extend my condolences regarding your father's passing? His lordship was a loyal client for many years, and I enjoyed dressing him and your brother."

Ragland frowned a moment. "I thought you were... the..." His voice faded, and August knew the man only now realized that Peter, too, was gone.

He had not placed a death notice in the London newspapers, and he now regretted that choice. At the time, he had been so grief-stricken, he had not thought of things such as that, merely fleeing to the country and burying his beloved sibling.

"My brother has also passed," he confirmed. "It is why I now hold the title."

"I see. So, you wish to commission a new wardrobe, my lord?"

"I do."

"Then we must measure you first."

The tailor led him to a back room, where August stepped onto a raised platform and was measured from head to toe.

"What are your needs, my lord?" Ragland asked.

"I have left the military and truly have nothing beyond my uniforms, which I have now discarded. My father and I were close in height and build, so I simply commandeered some of his wardrobe since my return to England."

Ragland nodded. "I thought your coat and waistcoat looked familiar, but you are slightly larger than Lord Edgethorne was. We will make certain your new pieces fit you better than these castoffs have."

The tailor hesitated and then asked, "Might you be considering attending the Season?"

"Yes. I will be attending some events." He knew Ragland thought him too hideous to darken a ballroom, but August would not break his promise to Peter.

Surprise showed in the tailor's eyes, but he shook it off. "Then let me go over what I recommend we make up for you, Lord Edgethorne."

As Ragland spoke, he was taken aback at how many items he would commission. Then again, a man of his station and wealth had a certain image to project in Polite Society, especially if he was looking to land a bride.

"I will go along with whatever you suggest, Mr. Ragland," he informed the tailor. "The number of pieces and fabrics will be at your discretion."

"I assume you will be needing shirts, hats, and boots, my lord."

"Yes, I am starting from scratch."

The tailor recommended others to him, and August spent the next day going to their various shops. He had three pairs of boots made up, along with a couple of pairs of shoes. The shirtmaker suggested three dozen shirts to start, and he acquiesced to the request. He would be wearing these clothes for a long time, and it would be good to have enough choice to rotate through them over the years. He never intended to return to London again, much less attend another Season. He wasn't a political man and had no interest in sitting in the House of Lords. He merely wanted to retreat from the world and live out his life in solitude.

When he finished with the hatmaker, his last stop, August decided to return to the bookshop he had gone into yesterday. He had merely been browsing after seeing his solicitor, waiting for his upcoming appointment with Ragland. He returned now, though, and went back to the same section which held books about various places around the world.

He would not admit—even to himself—that he hoped to find Lady Georgina Strong there.

The area, however, was void of customers, and August spent a good half-hour skimming through various books in complete solitude.

Then he came across one which featured the Sandwich Islands. Removing it from the shelf, he couldn't help but think about Lady Georgina's interest in these islands and how she wanted to learn more about them in order to have a knowledgeable discussion with her twin sister once Lady Pippa returned from her honeymoon. He knew how close he and Peter had been and could not imagine the even closer bond twins must surely have. To have shared time in the womb and then growing up must have made Lady Georgina and Lady Pippa extremely close. He hoped both women were doing well being separated for such a lengthy amount of time.

August decided to purchase the book. He had no personal interest in the Sandwich Islands, nor did he believe he would ever get on a ship and visit them or anywhere else. Yet something compelled him to buy this book. He placed it under his arm, looking on the shelf and seeing the one he had taken out to show Lady Georgina was now missing. He assumed she had purchased it after he left yesterday.

Suddenly, the back of his neck prickled in awareness. He wasn't alone.

And he knew exactly who was present.

Turning, he found Lady Georgina standing there.

"Ah, you have returned to the scene of the crime," she said, a smile playing about her soft, pink lips.

"I thought we had established yesterday that I was no criminal on the run, my lady," he teased.

No. Flirted. It had been so long since August had done so that he did not recognize it as flirtation at first. The old August—the handsome, carefree devil—flirted with ease and without thought, the playful, teasing words coming naturally to him. The new August—a scarred Lord Edgethorne—should refrain from doing so. After all, when a man flirted, it was to show his interest in a lady.

He could not be interested in the woman before him. He simply couldn't.

"It was a crime of omission," Lady Georgina continued, reaching for the book under his arm and pulling it out.

Her mouth formed an O as she saw its title, and then she smiled brilliantly at him. "I see you, too, have a newfound interest in the Sandwich Islands, my lord. Perhaps we should each read our own books and then exchange them and read the other's. Then we could talk about what we had read and compare."

Why was she thinking they were going to have future contact?

"Why, I thought we might become friends, my lord."

"Good God. Did I say that aloud?" he asked, horrified.

She laughed, and he knew he could become addicted to her laughter. To the sparkle in her eyes. To the curve of her breasts.

He took the book from her hands and placed it back on the shelf. "I have changed my mind about purchasing it," he said curtly. "If you will excuse me."

"No, I will not."

August halted in his tracks. "What?"

"You asked if I would excuse you. I told you that I will not. Once we have finished our conversation, you will then be free to go, my lord."

"We have nothing to say to one another, my lady. You yourself have pointed out that we should not even be conversing with one another."

She smiled at him, causing his pulse to race. "But we are talking now, my lord, and I would like to continue our conversation over tea. I told you yesterday that I wished to introduce you to my brother and his wife. They stay in town a majority of their time because Sophie is running her shipping line, and James is learning more about the business."

"Wait. Your sister-in-law is . . . running this business?"

"Yes, she first wed a man at an early age, a man who started Neptune Shipping Lines, and he taught her all he knew about the business. He was quite a bit older than Sophie, and when he passed, he left her the company."

August frowned. "Didn't ownership pass to your brother upon their marriage?"

"No, James would not have taken the company from Sophie. He loves her too much to do so. He had the marriage settlements drawn up so that she would maintain control of it. While their future firstborn son will inherit James' title and Strong Shipping Lines, their other children will own and manage Neptune."

He couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. "You come from a most unusual family, Lady Georgina."

"That is why I thought you might enjoy getting to meet them. At least some of them. Mama and my sister Mirella are also in town. We are having gowns made up since Mirella and I are making our come-outs. Pippa no longer has to do so since she married Seth."

He was at a loss for words, having never met a female such as Lady Georgina Strong.

"Will you share your title with me now, my lord? While I can informally invite you to tea here and now, Mama has always believed a written invitation should also be extended, as well. I need to know whom to address it to—and where you live."

"I . . . I am . . . the Marquess of Edgethorne. I live on—"

Lady Georgina squealed. "What a coincidence! Why, you are our neighbor. We share the same square, Lord Edgethorne. There is the private garden between us, of course. Do you ever go and sit in it?"

August was still reeling from the fact that she and her family lived so close to him. He had known that an older duke lived in the townhouse but had never truly paid attention since the small park lay between them and the duke had no sons who had gone to school with August. You could not see one townhouse from the other.

Smiling brightly at him, Lady Georgina said, "I will go home immediately and have Mama write out the invitation to you, my lord. Are you free today? Or should we schedule our tea for tomorrow?"

He did not want to go to tea. He already liked this woman far too much and knew nothing could happen between them.

"I am afraid I am unavailable both today and tomorrow, my lady. My regrets."

She waved his words away. "Then you may come the day after, my lord. Good day."

Lady Georgina whirled and was gone before he could protest. August knew it would be churlish to turn down the invitation of a duchess.

He resolved to attend this one teatime and then be done with Lady Georgina and the Strong family.