Granville Estate
Shrewsbury, England
"Francis?" Georgia put a hand to his chest look up at him. "What did you mean by 'just as you imagined it would be?"
"Oh, that?" He blinked before straightening the lower half of himself. "When I first arrived here I nearly spent the entire day in my study looking over the ledgers and accounts. Then I saw you and your dark hair just outside my windows."
"You were watching me?" She gave a small smile.
"Yes and your daughter. You both looked happy. How is she?"
"She is well. Thank you, Your Grace."
Clearing his throat and straightening his cravat he said, "Thank you, Francis."
Georgia shifted uncomfortably trying hard not to think about the carnal acts they had just committed upon one another. This, whatever they had been doing had to come to a stop. She, herself had to stop. She was leaving off to London tomorrow. Francis had yet to ask for her hand, or even declare himself or whatever feelings he may have about her. He certainly did not love her or might he have said so already, or would he?
She sighed deeply rearranging her skirts. "Your Grace..." She reiterated as if to keep some sort of formal distance between them both. Stubborn woman. "About the conversation... earlier at dinner... in regards to my daughter and I taking our leave to London-..."
"What of it?" Francis asked trying to hide the slight irritation in his voice. Was he upset about the fact that she was very well leaving, or was it the fact that he found out without her ever telling him? Georgia thought she may-haps have been utterly mistaken at the twinge of emotion. Did he care? She looked up at him with perfectly furrowed brows and searching brown eyes that met his cool icy blue ones. What she was looking for, even she didn't want to know, or rather she knew, but just didn't have the guts to admit that to herself.
"My hus-Lord Pearson left me and my daughter without even a penny to our names. I'm sure you've heard."
"I did not." He said unable to hide the the displeasure upon his handsome features. Jaw clenched, and the rest of him seemed to be as stiff as a block of ice.
"Well, he did. In fact..." Georgia looked away momentarily and gathered herself, her thoughts, and continued, "Despite everything that has happened, I must ensure for my daughter's future and her dowry. Her paternal grandparents wish to offer their support."
He could see the pain and frustration twisting in her face. How long had she been battling with this decision? It softened his resolve and cool demeanor of sudden aloofness. He felt almost as if he were melting and it was bloody insufferable.
"Francis?" Georgia asked again with those eyes. Pleading or searching he wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure about any damn thing. Bleeding hell. He couldn't do this. Wait, but he most certainly could.
"You will have my support, when we..." It was on the tip of his tongue. Oh, bloody, bleeding hell.
"When we what?" Georgia asked completely unconvinced and unsure of everything in that moment.
"Marry." He said simply, finally, but Georgia couldn't help but notice the small look of mock horror that crossed his face when he said it. She slumped her shoulders and shook her head.
She felt a whirlwind of emotions hit her all at once. She wasn't standing in front of the Duke of Richmond any longer. She was undoubtedly back in her parents home the day the deal had been sealed. The day fate led her to a loveless marriage.
The universe was certainly mocking her. After everything she had been through, the last thing she wanted to end up in for the second time in her life was another loveless marriage. She thought back to the woman she had seen Francis with at the Cashwell's annual tea party and the words Vivienne spoke back at the fair when she mentioned that the woman must had been his lover, and was probably still his lover. She hadn't the slightest clue, but the realization nearly made her feel as if the wind had been knocked out of her and she was desperately clinging on for air.
"I cannot." She spoke the words, but her mouth went dry and she tried to swallow the air that was around them, but still felt as if she were suffocating. She felt suddenly sick to her stomach. "Who w-was that woman that you were with at the Cashwell's tea party? I saw you dance together. Tell me."
Her eyes met his again and he froze all over. "That is besides the point. We will marry. If you will have me, that is." Well, that wasn't so hard after all. Francis thought to himself. They rather got on pretty well, and at least he could enjoy bed sport without having to sneak around. The idea wasn't bad at all.
"No." Georgia said at last. "I will not marry you, for you do not love me. I cannot and I will not accept such a match." She shook her head. She would never be fooled again. She would never stand on a man's word who was already in love with someone else. Someone other than her.
"Georgia, don't be rash-..." Came Francis's voice, but she shook her head once again then raised her gaze to meet his defiantly.
"I said, no." And then, she turned and walked away. Slipped out of the ballroom door and he all but let her, watching her go because he could never give her what she wanted, and perhaps what she deserved. He could never love her. He swore an oath to himself after Lucia crushed his ducal heart. He would never love another woman with that same fierceness, with that same stupidity all over again.
He had to let her go. So why did that hurt him more than he, himself even wanted to admit? No, he wouldn't dwell on this. Feelings of love were of no consequence in his world.
The next morning at breakfast she refused to meet his eye, but that didn't stop him from watching her. Even when all his unexpected guests or truly friends readied themselves for their journeys back to their own homes and Georgia's stubbornness still caused her to refuse to meet his eye.
He felt as if he was torturing himself, or rather Georgia was torturing him with her sudden repulsiveness due to the idea that marriage to him had to be filled with love to be a happy one. He couldn't let his resolve fade. Marriage and duty were aligned. Not marriage and love. That was a fantasy for children. Why didn't she understand that?
Georgia nearly spent the entire night soaking up her own tears. What kind of fool did she have to be to believe that the Duke of Richmond would actually love her? The way his icy gaze penetrated her it was clear the man was incapable of such a thing, and least of all to her.
The thought crushed her. She had shared her body with him and little parts of her heart, and all he saw was just his duty? Oh, how could she have ever been such a fool! A lovesick fool indeed. Her heart, hopes, and spirit felt the air of bitterness and despair. She couldn't be that woman again. She couldn't be just the wife. She had already been that and failed miserably.
She recalled the way he made love to her. Feasted upon her body, and burned his desirous gaze into hers until she melted into him and they became one. He had discovered and awoken parts of her that she had never even knew existed. He had loved her with his body, but refused to say so with his words.
She was almost sure now that he was indeed in love with the other woman. What would explain his icy reaction when she brought the mere subject to his attention? He had blatantly refused to answer her question. Which left her to only assume the worst.
By morning her entire resolve had changed. No, she would not accept his suit, but at least she had a plan. Yes, she would return to London with her daughter and ask her late husband's parents, no beg if she had to, to be set up somewhere in the country with her daughter just the two of them away from the scrutiny of the ton, and when Luella came of age she would return back to London to ensure that her debutante seasons were a success.
Yes, that was it! She would throw herself into raising her daughter and remain a widow. She would never marry again for the sake of her own foolish heart. She fancied herself in love with the Duke. What a ridiculous thought! She couldn't possibly be in love with the man. Her mind was made up even if her heart refused to listen.
This would be no easy fleet. She cautioned herself against all odds, but nevertheless she was determined to see her plan through.
So when the next morning came and she risen and attempted to make herself whole again even if her heart was still split in two, she carried on anyways. She was strong. She had endured worst than this. She kept trying to remind herself, but her stupid heart was the sole source of all her pain. All her agony. For what it was all worth, she wouldn't regret a moment in his company.
No, the love they made was fierce with passion. Hot with need. Devouring and all consuming. Good Lord, help her. She nearly lost her resolve at the breakfast table. She felt his gaze upon her during the entire meal, but she guarded her foolish heart from the ice block of a Duke. It would not be wise to look upon him one last time. She wouldn't know how her heart might betray her, so she kept her gaze fixated on her plate of eggs, cold meats, kippers, and preserved fruit.
In all actuality, she could eat naught but a thing. For her heart felt just as empty as her stomach. Well, that wasn't completely true. She still had her greatest blessing. Her daughter. Thoughts of Luella pulled her through the rest of the meal and she thought only of when she could return home to retrieve her little girl, scoop her up in her arms and feel the comfort of the most purest love she might ever receive upon living in this world.
A world where love and marriage don't exist in the same sentence, well at least not for her as she watched Lord and Lady Willoughby, her aunt and uncle whom loved each other dearly, and not to mention Vivienne and her husband Lord Hackett.
She couldn't help the pang of envy that flashed through her like a lightening bolt. It was something that she would never have. May-haps, in time she could come to terms with that. They say that time heals all wounds. In time, she too would heal and take back her power. Her heart, her mind, and her body. Just not today. For it all belonged to him. Francis Audley. The ice block. The Duke of Richmond.
A beautifully handsome man. That was now her past. She left without meeting his gaze and when she was finally all bungled up into the Willoughby's carriage with the rest of her family to return to Heywood Manor she peeked out the window and her heart leaped in her chest. Almost as if she were leaving it behind. Yes, that is certainly what it felt like.
"Why don't you marry the chit?" Lord Hackett asked to Francis as he watched his friend watch the woman he loved go.
"She does not wish it." Francis said in return. His eyes never left the carriage as the driver and footman climbed on and took the reins sending the carriage forward.
"And, why is that so?" Hackett asked slightly annoyed. Lord Hackett stared at his friend in wonderment. Francis just continued to watch the carriage return to its rightful home ignoring his friend's comments. For, he had no answer. Not one he wished to disclose, anyhow.
Lord Hackett clasped a hand in his shoulder. "Only you would bungle that up, my friend." Just then Lady Hackett returned to his side. She had apparently went to retrieve her emerald earrings he gifted to her on their wedding night.
"Darling, is the carriage readied?" Vivienne said taking hold of his arm.
"Yes, darling." He smiled down at his wife and kissed her temple. "Let us take our leave now."
They all said farewell to one another and Francis watched them both go feeling lonelier than he felt before he had even arrived to Granville.
***
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