Georgianna: The Last Real Duchess (The Real Duchesses of London) by Lavinia Kent Page B
Authors: Lavinia Kent
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gardens filled with both grand views and hidden treasures. It was a house any man would take pride in, but it was also a responsibility, as was the woman who waited within.
What did he want from Georgianna?
A second son would be desirable. He could not pretend that he had no interest in ensuring the ducal line. He'd made promises to his brother and he always kept his word.
Only he'd promised to love and cherish his wife and he certainly hadn't kept those promises – he'd never meant to.
That was the heart of all the difficulties between them. He'd been a callow and selfish youth and made mistakes because of it. Mistakes Georgianna was all too aware of.
Was that what ate at him? What had driven him here now? The feeling that he'd treated her badly, dishonorably?
God. He felt like an indecisive girl up here dithering about what to do.
A man took action. He didn't debate for hours.
With a tap of his heels he sent Brutus down the hill toward the great house – and the woman within it.
#
The heavy front door slammed shut, the sound echoing back to the parlor in which Annie sat, staring down at her book. A glimmer of late afternoon sun still shown through the window. The book's pages had not been turned in the last ten minutes. She wasn't even sure it wasn't written in ancient Greek.
Richard had returned. There was not another person in the house, probably not in the entire county, who would have dared to let the door close with such force. The footmen acted as if they competed to see who could manage not to cause even a creak.
But Richard slammed. He always had when he'd visited in the past. He moved through the world with such force that a wind seemed to grow behind him.
He was back.
She put her book aside, not even pretending, and turned to stare at the door to the corridor.
Would he come?
He should. He always had before. But then, he'd never gone out for fresh air after riding all the way from London.
Steps sounded in the hall, coming her way.
She should smile. She'd certainly had enough practice, but she could not force her lips to move.
She stared – and waited.
Richard entered the room, his cheeks flushed from his ride.
For a moment, the barest flash of breath, she thought she saw joy mark his features, but then it was gone. He stopped just inside the door.
Was he going to say something? Should she?
"Robert is taking his supper in the nursery.” It wasn't what she'd meant to say, but they were the only words that came to her lips.
"I know. I asked before I came in. I do want to see him before bed. I would hate to miss him," Richard answered.
A small glow of anger grew in her chest. If he didn't want to miss his son perhaps he should try living in the same house as him for more than a day at a time. And what of her? He stayed away for months and then didn't even bother with a greeting? She shouldn't care. She'd decided to deaden her heart to him, but still . . .
"Then perhaps you should not have gone riding." She kept her voice soft, but knew the censure was still there to feel.
"I was told he was napping."
"And you thought he slept for more than three hours?" This was not how she had planned their reunion. She'd been confident she could keep it civilized.
"I didn't know how long he slept."
And didn't that say it all. A father who didn't know how long his son napped. She knew she was being unfair. Most parents in their circle probably had no idea when their children slept. That was the job of the nursery staff, but still, she couldn't help feel the anger. It was easier to feel it for Robbie's sake than her own.
Looking away, Annie tried to find her earlier calm. "I am glad you are here."
"It is good to be home." He sounded almost sincere.
Why have you come? Why now? The season had already started. The questions skipped through her mind. He should be in London. How would the House of Lords survive without him? She smothered a snort at the last thought. "How long will you be
What did he want from Georgianna?
A second son would be desirable. He could not pretend that he had no interest in ensuring the ducal line. He'd made promises to his brother and he always kept his word.
Only he'd promised to love and cherish his wife and he certainly hadn't kept those promises – he'd never meant to.
That was the heart of all the difficulties between them. He'd been a callow and selfish youth and made mistakes because of it. Mistakes Georgianna was all too aware of.
Was that what ate at him? What had driven him here now? The feeling that he'd treated her badly, dishonorably?
God. He felt like an indecisive girl up here dithering about what to do.
A man took action. He didn't debate for hours.
With a tap of his heels he sent Brutus down the hill toward the great house – and the woman within it.
#
The heavy front door slammed shut, the sound echoing back to the parlor in which Annie sat, staring down at her book. A glimmer of late afternoon sun still shown through the window. The book's pages had not been turned in the last ten minutes. She wasn't even sure it wasn't written in ancient Greek.
Richard had returned. There was not another person in the house, probably not in the entire county, who would have dared to let the door close with such force. The footmen acted as if they competed to see who could manage not to cause even a creak.
But Richard slammed. He always had when he'd visited in the past. He moved through the world with such force that a wind seemed to grow behind him.
He was back.
She put her book aside, not even pretending, and turned to stare at the door to the corridor.
Would he come?
He should. He always had before. But then, he'd never gone out for fresh air after riding all the way from London.
Steps sounded in the hall, coming her way.
She should smile. She'd certainly had enough practice, but she could not force her lips to move.
She stared – and waited.
Richard entered the room, his cheeks flushed from his ride.
For a moment, the barest flash of breath, she thought she saw joy mark his features, but then it was gone. He stopped just inside the door.
Was he going to say something? Should she?
"Robert is taking his supper in the nursery.” It wasn't what she'd meant to say, but they were the only words that came to her lips.
"I know. I asked before I came in. I do want to see him before bed. I would hate to miss him," Richard answered.
A small glow of anger grew in her chest. If he didn't want to miss his son perhaps he should try living in the same house as him for more than a day at a time. And what of her? He stayed away for months and then didn't even bother with a greeting? She shouldn't care. She'd decided to deaden her heart to him, but still . . .
"Then perhaps you should not have gone riding." She kept her voice soft, but knew the censure was still there to feel.
"I was told he was napping."
"And you thought he slept for more than three hours?" This was not how she had planned their reunion. She'd been confident she could keep it civilized.
"I didn't know how long he slept."
And didn't that say it all. A father who didn't know how long his son napped. She knew she was being unfair. Most parents in their circle probably had no idea when their children slept. That was the job of the nursery staff, but still, she couldn't help feel the anger. It was easier to feel it for Robbie's sake than her own.
Looking away, Annie tried to find her earlier calm. "I am glad you are here."
"It is good to be home." He sounded almost sincere.
Why have you come? Why now? The season had already started. The questions skipped through her mind. He should be in London. How would the House of Lords survive without him? She smothered a snort at the last thought. "How long will you be
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