Heart's Debt (Lost Lords Book 5) (34 page)

“I’m listening, I’m listening. I wish you’d simply speak what’s on your mind.”

He took her hand and said, “Will you marry me?”

“What?” She yanked away and lurched back.

“You heard me. Will you marry me?”

“No.”

“But…I love you.”

It was the only time he’d ever declared himself so he was stunned by her reply.

“You do not love me. You don’t love anyone. You told me so. You don’t know how and I believe that’s true. You’re too damaged so you’ve lost the ability to care for others. It was beaten out of you.”

At her uttering the word
damaged,
he cringed. He couldn’t deny that he’d been wrecked in many important ways, but he’d prevailed over so many obstacles. He’d fought and endured and survived. He was rich and prosperous and had raised himself higher than any man ever could. He’d wiped away the remnants of the pain that had been inflicted—as much as he was able anyway.

“I love you,” he said again, feeling as if he was drowning.

She rested a palm on his shoulder. “Damian, you really don’t. Stop saying it. It’s embarrassing to both of us.”

“Ride to Kirkwood with me. Marry me. Be my bride. Be mistress of the estate. I’ll make you so happy. I swear it.”

She sighed. “It’s sweet of you to think I could do that, but I never would. Let Kit and Sophia have the blasted place. There are too many ghosts there—for me
and
for you. I would never be comfortable, and I doubt you could be either.” She walked over to the tavern. “Now then, I can’t stay out here with you another second.”

“What about Sophia? She’s expecting you. How will I explain why I didn’t bring you with me?”

“Tell her I refused. Tell her…I’ll write someday when I can.”

He held out his hand, like a beggar, like a supplicant. He hadn’t said what he planned to say, and he was choking on all the jumbled comments that might have persuaded her. He couldn’t put them in the correct order.

“Get going, Mr. Drummond,” she said, “and you mustn’t return to Whitfield. I don’t wish to see you ever again. It’s pointless for us to bicker.”

They stared, an impasse as vast as an ocean opening between them. He wanted to shout at her, wanted to shake her, wanted to fall to his knees and plead with her to have him. But he’d never pleaded with a woman. When she was so adamantly opposed to wedding him, it was beyond him to beseech her.

Finally he shrugged. “I won’t come back, but if you ever need anything from me—anything at all—contact Sophia. She’ll always know where I am. Whatever you ask of me, whatever you require, it will be yours.”

“I won’t ever ask.”

She stepped inside and shut the door, and he heard her bar it so he couldn’t follow her. He considered kicking it in and storming in like a berserker. He considered rushing around to the front and entering again, marching to the kitchen and insisting she attend him. His conversations ended when
he
decided they were over.

But her cousin was in the tap room, and if Damian forced his way in they’d likely engage in fisticuffs, and he was in no mood to fight. And why should he? She’d been very, very clear. She didn’t love him and didn’t need his help.

So…to hell with her.

He went down the alley to the street, climbed on his horse, and rode away.

Georgina stood at the
baking table in the center of the kitchen. She was gripping the edge so hard that her knuckles were white.

She gaped at the door, figuring Damian would pound on it and demand to be admitted so he could continue their argument. She’d never have imagined he’d track her down or that Sophia would want her back. It was all too much to absorb.

Suddenly she grew incredibly dizzy, and her stomach churned with nausea. The past few days, she’d been feeling a bit peaked. What was wrong with her? It would be just like the universe to strike her with a dreadful malady when she was so ill-prepared to suffer it.

She’d meant it when she’d told Damian she’d landed on her feet. She’d been lucky to find her cousin, John Fogarty, lucky he was kind and understanding. He lived in an apartment over the tavern and he’d welcomed her with open arms. He’d listened as she’d talked about Kirkwood, how shabbily she’d been treated, how Damian Drummond had broken her heart, how she’d been evicted by her aunt.

He hadn’t been surprised by how she’d been scorned and abused. The Fogartys had deemed Edward and Augusta Marshall to be cruel and unpleasant. They’d tried to rescue her from them, but hadn’t succeeded. Georgina had received enormous solace from learning how much they’d wanted her.

She was grateful to John and wouldn’t ever upset him or have him thinking she was a burden so she couldn’t have Damian Drummond visiting and being a nuisance.

He’d proposed! She couldn’t believe it. Why had he? Why would he suppose she’d be interested? How dare he seek her out! How dare he presume she’d obey like a meek puppy!

If there was another voice in her head, if it was gleefully celebrating his arrival, cheering the realization that he loved her after all, she didn’t have to heed it.

She’d never been able to resist him, not from the very first moment. She’d given up everything for him. Her reputation. Her home. Her chastity. She’d barely survived the experience of knowing him, and she had nothing left but what John—a relative she’d only just met—had chosen to supply.

She had to forget about Damian Drummond and begin rebuilding her life. She had to start over, count her blessings, and move forward in a positive way.

Mr. Drummond was the past and she was looking to the future.

Yet as she pictured his forlorn expression, her nausea gurgled again. She raced to the corner, grabbed a bucket, and retched over and over.

She was weak in the knees, drenched with sweat, and she went to the counter and dipped a cloth in a bowl of cool water. She was swabbing it across her hot cheeks when John entered from the tap room.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I had an attack of vertigo, but it passed.”

“You’re sick a lot all of a sudden,” he said.

“Well, I have been through a terrible time recently.”

“Yes, that’s probably it. Is Mr. Drummond gone?”

“Yes, thank goodness.”

“He won’t be back?”

“I hope not. I told him not to bother us again, but he’s very arrogant. If he’s set on an issue, it’s difficult to dissuade him.”

John’s gaze dropped to her stomach, and he frowned. “You know how to contact him, right?”

“Yes. He’ll be at Kirkwood, or if he leaves, he’ll inform my cousin, Sophia, of his whereabouts. I can’t imagine why we would ever communicate with him though.”

“You just can’t predict what might happen,” he enigmatically replied. “Circumstances might
arise
when we’re not anticipating any problems.”

He assessed her with such concern, and she smiled a tepid smile.

“I’m fine, John. Truly I am. I was simply distressed by Mr. Drummond’s appearance. I’ll get to work, and it will keep my mind off my troubles.”

“By all means, get to work but if you’re dizzy or nauseous promise you’ll head upstairs and lie down.”

“Why would I do that? I’m healthy as a horse.”

“Of course you are,” he said.

He patted her on the shoulder and returned to his friends and his card game.

I
have no idea
where he is. Neither does Kit. The rude oaf has vanished.”

Georgina stared at Sophia and sighed with a sort of resigned aggravation.

She was back at Kirkwood, the one spot in the kingdom she swore she’d never see again. She’d expected to find Damian Drummond strutting about the property with his typical swagger, but apparently—after he’d stopped by the tavern in Whitfield a few months earlier—he hadn’t returned.

“He said he’d make sure you were apprised of his location,” she groused.

“Yes, and I’m surprised he’d upset Kit like this. Kit’s a worrier and he’s always fretting about Mr. Drummond.”

“You don’t suppose Miles’s men accosted him again.”

“According to Kit, there’s no chance of that happening.”

“Why not? Have you ever discovered what became of Miles?”

“No, and it’s likely a secret Kit will never share with me.” Sophia laughed wanly. “Actually I’m in no hurry to learn Miles’s fate. It’s more curiosity than anything. It’s lovely to realize he’ll never be around to cause more trouble.”

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t know.”

Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, Georgina sighed again. “I don’t understand why Mr. Drummond went after this property so vigorously, but now that he owns it he couldn’t care less.”

Sophia shrugged. “He trusts Kit to watch over it for him.”

“I told him he should give it to the two of you. He doesn’t really want it.”

“What did he say?”

“I don’t recall. During our conversation, I was a tad disconcerted.”

Grimly she wondered why Fate was so cruel. From the day of her father’s death, she’d suffered naught but adversity, her latest problem being the very worst yet.

Her cousin, John, had been the one to identify her condition, and it was odd that a bachelor would notice. Georgina was so clueless as to the workings of the human body that she hadn’t guessed what was wrong. She’d been aware that a babe could catch from fornication, but she’d been so fatigued by her departure from Kirkwood that she hadn’t recognized what was occurring.

After John had sat her down and pointed out the obvious, she’d nearly fainted with shock and shame. A quick trip to the local midwife had confirmed his suspicions. Georgina was increasing, and since she’d only ever trifled with one man—one time, no less!—there was no question as to the identity of the father.

She’d stewed over what her course of action should be, but there was only one path. She couldn’t stay in Whitfield where her presence would create a scandal for her cousin who’d been kindness personified.

Ultimately she’d decided she had to travel to Kirkwood and speak with Mr. Drummond. And she had to admit she was intrigued as to what his opinion would be.

When he’d chased her down in Whitfield, he’d been absurdly repentant, had claimed he was eager to wed her, and she still couldn’t figure out why he’d suggested such a ridiculous attachment.

He didn’t want to marry her, and she didn’t want to marry him either. Nothing had changed on her end. She would never forgive him for how he’d treated her, for how he’d broken her heart.

But a woman couldn’t march around with a babe in her belly and no ring on her finger so she was in a definite pickle. She had to devise a solution, but when she was vehemently opposed to having him as her husband there weren’t many options.

Sophia had welcomed her home with open arms, and they’d been dickering over alternatives. Sophia was adamant that there was only one viable conclusion, that being a hasty wedding. Yet Sophia had just married Kit and was plagued by a newlywed’s obsession with matrimony. She felt everyone should leap into wedded bliss, but Georgina couldn’t imagine how marriage to Damian Drummond could supply
bliss
to any wife.

She’d thought a better plan might be to insist he provide an allowance to her, then she’d slink off to a town where she was a stranger and could start over. She would pretend to be a widow, that her spouse had been a soldier killed in the army.

Women made those sorts of choices all the time, and while people speculated, they usually left the poor mother alone with her lies and reduced existence.

The other possibility was to find some hapless bachelor who’d marry her right away, but they weren’t acquainted with any man who might, and she simply wouldn’t proceed on a false premise. She’d have to tell any prospective candidate about her dishonorable situation, and what husband would begin his wedded life in such a mess?

But all their plotting and discussion had been futile. Damian Drummond hadn’t returned to Kirkwood, and for all they knew he might be halfway to China. She deemed it to be completely typical that she’d seek him out—after swearing she never would—merely to discover he couldn’t be located.

“I wish he would give us Kirkwood,” Sophia said. “Not for myself, but for Kit. He’d be so proud to own it, and after all he endured as a boy I’d like him to have a bit of good luck.”

“So would I,” Georgina agreed. “I’d like someone to have
good
luck. I only have the bad.”

“Don’t fret. We’ll solve this dilemma.”

“How will we? Very soon, I won’t be able to hide my condition so I can’t dawdle at Kirkwood.”

“I don’t care what others think,” Sophia loyally huffed. “Why should you have to leave? Mr. Drummond participated in the fiasco, and we’ll never see any scolding fingers pointed at him. Why should you consider yourself disgraced?”

“I ruined myself with no thought to the consequences.”

“You can remain here as long as you like, and if anyone gossips or condemns, I’ll have my husband speak to them. He’ll shut them up quickly enough.”

Georgina chuckled, thoroughly charmed by this new version of Sophia. Her marriage to Kit Roxbury had altered her—but in beneficial ways. She’d taken over the running of the manor, and with her vigilant management the house seemed fresh and bright, as if Augusta had been a black cloud that had finally cleared away.

Perhaps Sophia had simply grown up or maybe Kit Roxbury was a sorcerer who could force a miracle to occur.

Georgina could barely stand to watch them cooing and cuddling. It made her own sorry circumstance even more pathetic, and she hated to be petty, but she constantly wondered: Why can’t
I
have what they have? Why can’t
I
stumble on someone who will always love me? Why can’t
I
live happily ever after?

The butler entered to fetch Sophia so she could consult with the housekeeper over the supper menu. As he led her away, Georgina suffered an embarrassing moment of jealousy. Once, in the not too distant past,
she
was the one consulted by the servants.

She’d run the estate and had been adept at it too. She’d enjoyed those days when she’d felt useful and important. Now she felt lost and adrift and incredibly bored.

She waited for Sophia to return, and when she didn’t she rose and wandered the halls. In the three months she’d been away, her mind had played tricks on her. She’d recalled the manor as a cherished place where she’d reveled in the grandeur, but she didn’t actually have fond feelings.

She was detached from it all as if she was a visitor who’d never resided there. Her memories were raw, her history too unpleasant. There was no tender yearning to tarry.

Eventually she found herself in the rear of the mansion and walking toward the estate agent’s office. It was Kit’s office now so it was wrong to enter, but she couldn’t keep herself from sneaking in to take a peek.

She tiptoed over to the desk and was looking out the window into the garden when, from behind her, a familiar, aggravating voice said, “Hello, Georgina.”

Her heart skipped with an excitement that astonished her, and she whipped around. “Mr. Drummond!”

“Fancy meeting you here.”

He was seated in a chair in the corner, and apparently he’d been there for a while. There was a table next to him, a decanter of liquor and a glass were there too. Most of the contents of the bottle were gone.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“London.”

“Why didn’t you tell anybody? Kit has been worried sick.”

“He shouldn’t have been. He knows I have nine lives, and I still have several of them left.”

“Miles’s men didn’t get hold of you again did they?”

“No. I simply had business to complete.”

“You’re back.”

“For a bit. Yes.”

He was studying her strangely, and she was gaping strangely too. Ever since she’d realized her predicament, she’d been eagerly anticipating this encounter. In her mind, she’d rehearsed her comments a thousand times, but with them sitting face to face she had no idea how to raise the topics that truly needed to be addressed.

She’d never missed her parents more. This was the sort of conversation a father had with a potential son-in-law. Or that a mother had with a daughter. Then a swift wedding would be arranged. Yet how could a single female such as herself wrangle the appropriate conclusion? How could she force a recalcitrant man to do the right thing?

“Why are you snooping in here?” he asked. “Were you searching for something?”

“No. I’m nostalgic, I guess. I loved being in this room.”

“Kit loves it too, I suspect.”

“Yes, he does.”

“Why are you at Kirkwood?”

“Why are you?”

“I own the property. What’s your excuse?”

She flushed from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.

Tell him! Just blurt it out!
But she might have been struck dumb.

When she didn’t reply, he said, “I must admit I’m surprised. After our quarrel in Whitfield, I never expected to see you again.”

“I had to…ah…talk to Sophia about a problem I was having.”

Suddenly he was assessing her like a hawk circling a rabbit. “What problem?”

“It’s not important,” she stupidly responded.

“I take it your job at your cousin’s tavern didn’t work out.”

“Oh, it worked out. I could return if I wanted to.”

“You don’t want to?”

“Not at the moment, but I might in the future. It all depends…”

“On what?”

She was swamped by a potent urge to run out and hide, and it dawned on her that she should have Kit speak to him. It would certainly be easier to let Kit handle it. But she’d never been a ninny, had never been scared to confront issues that had to be confronted.

When had she grown so timid?

“Are you planning to stay on at Kirkwood?” she inquired.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“As you succinctly pointed out that day at Whitfield, I hate it here. I never should have come back. There are too many demons to plague me.”

“I feel the same way. Where will you go instead?”

“I haven’t decided. It depends…”

“On what?” she asked as he just had.

He stood and walked over to her. He was so tall and imposing, and she never got over the aura of strength and power that rolled off him in waves.

“I can’t remain in England,” he said. “In light of how the Crown treated me, I’ve lost any patriotic affection.”

“You’ll leave Britain?”

“Yes.”

In the grueling hours she’d pondered this reunion, she’d wondered if he hadn’t already left the country, but in a small part of her brain she’d persuaded herself that he hadn’t, that she’d have sensed his absence.

But to hear him say he was really going! She couldn’t imagine England without him in it, and mad as it sounded, she nearly fell to her knees and begged him not to depart.

Wasn’t that the oddest scenario ever? What was it to her if he departed? So long as he provided financially for her child before he went it shouldn’t matter what he did.

“Will you return to Australia?” she asked.

“No. My memories of that place are even worse than my memories of this one. I’m partial to the weather there though. The sun was always shining, and I liked that very much. I was thinking I’d like to settle in a more temperate climate.”

“Where might that be?”

“Spain? Italy? I stopped in Cairo on the way from Botany Bay. I met a rich Frenchman named Valois who had a villa on the banks of the Nile and he lived like a king. Maybe that should be my destination. Or I own a sugar plantation in Jamaica. I could head there.”

“I can’t envision you in any of those spots.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I suppose I’ll always connect you to Kirkwood. I can’t picture you anywhere else.”

“And I can’t picture myself here.”

“Would you ever come back to visit?”

“No.”

There was a complicated pause where he stared down at her, but neither of them commented. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, but she might have been choking on a tough piece of meat. She simply couldn’t push out the facts, and she became even more determined to have Kit talk to him. That was the best idea. Why hadn’t she realized it sooner?

“Well…ah…I should probably find Sophia,” she mumbled like an idiot.

“You still haven’t told me why you’re at Kirkwood.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Are you going to?”

She gazed into his eyes, and for a few seconds she felt as if she was swallowed up in them. For once, he didn’t shield his emotions. All his masks had been removed, and she could view every fond sentiment.

It was difficult to be so close to him, to peer up at him, and a wave of vertigo swept over her. In an instant, she was so dizzy she swayed from side to side. Quick as a snake, he gripped her elbow, guided her over to a chair, and eased her down.

He frowned. “You look as if you’re about to swoon.”

“I was a bit overwhelmed for a minute.”

“It’s perfectly understandable. I’m definitely overwhelming, but I never took you for the swooning type.”

“You know women.” She chuckled half-heartedly. “They suffer from many mysterious ailments that men never want to hear about.”

“Are you ailing?”

“I wouldn’t call it
ailing
precisely.”

“What would you call it then? If I hadn’t caught you, you’d be flat on the floor.”

Her cheeks were so hot with embarrassment that she was amazed she didn’t ignite. She was anxious to scoot out of the room and locate Kit so he could have the conversation she couldn’t bear to have.