Page 42 of A Scarred Wallflower for the Duke
His mother had given up on any hint of subtlety:“I have invited Miss Lydia to afternoon tea tomorrow, and I expect a proposal to be forthcoming. You have tarried long enough.”
It had taken no small amount of strong words to convince his mother to invite Georgina and Lord Renshaw as well. She had only agreed once Vincent had promised her that a proposal would take place by the end of the week. How he would get out of that, he had no thought. All he knew was that he would do and say anything to be in Georgina’s company again.
And now she is not even coming?
Was Georgina truly unwell? He could not help but suppose there was more going on. After all, when she was concerned, there usually was. He pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer and sank into his desk chair. He uncorked the ink bottle and began to write.
Georgina,
Please forgive my bluntness, but I wish rather desperately to see you. There is much we need to speak of, and I regret we were unable to do so at the ball on Saturday. I very much hope you are feeling better tomorrow, and that we might have the chance to speak.
Yours, Vincent.
Was it too abrupt? Too pushy? Too cold? His thoughts were knocking together, and he could not make sense of anything except his need to see Georgina again. The letter would have to do. If nothing else, at least it managed to get his urgency across. He folded the page carefully and called for his valet, instructing it to be delivered to Thomson House without delay.
* * *
Georgina sat up in bed, her hand tight around Vincent’s letter. A tear slipped off her cheek and dappled the paper. She wiped it away hurriedly. She had cried more in the past two days than she had in the whole rest of her life.
Why did I ever crave the affection of a man? All it does is cause one pain…
She stared down at the page. A part of her longed to reply. Tell Vincent how much she ached to see him too. Tell him how much she regretted not having spoken to him at the ball. But she knew such a thing was impossible. The only way forward was to forget him.
Resigned, Georgina threw back the bed covers. She had been wallowing in her bedchamber for long enough. She had never been the kind of lady who let herself be so upturned by a man. And she was not about to start now. She would dress, and then she would examine the ledgers of the past few days. And then she would return to her Latin textbooks. They had been long forgotten in the whole drama of the Duke of Levinton.
But that drama ended now.
Just as she was about to ring for her lady’s maid, the bedchamber door flew open. Georgina shoved Vincent’s letter hurriedly beneath her pillow. Lydia rushed inside, tears flooding her cheeks. She hurled herself at her sister, throwing her arms around her neck.
Georgina held her in a tight embrace. At least in her manic state, there was no way Lydia would notice her sister’s red and swollen eyes. “What’s happened?” she asked gently. Lydia replied in an unintelligible sob. Georgina eased her back to look her in the eye. “Take a deep breath, Lydia. Tell me again.”
Lydia coughed down her tears, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s happening,” she spluttered. “Tomorrow.”
Georgina frowned. “What is happening?”
Fresh tears spilled down Lydia’s face. Strands of long blonde hair clung to her cheeks. “Grandmother just had word from the Dowager Duchess. She says His Grace has promised to propose to me by the end of the week. I am certain he plans to ask for my hand at the afternoon tea tomorrow.” She flung herself back into her sister’s arms. “I cannot marry him, Georgie. I cannot.”
Georgina’s heart sank. Had Vincent truly made such a promise? So soon after writing her the letter? Was it a promise he intended to keep?
Her own tears threatened to spill again. Unless they succeeded in changing the course of this dreadful set of events, she would have a life with Vincent in it forever—as her sister’s husband. And Lydia would lose the man she loved. But what else was there to do? Their plan had been an utter failure. Not only would Lydia’s heart end up broken, but hers would as well.
“I’m sorry, Lydia,” Georgina said sadly. “I think we have done all we can.”
At her sister’s resignation, a look of horror fell over Lydia’s face. “No, Georgie. No. We cannot give up.” She clutched her hands desperately. “Please.”
Georgina sighed. “I do not know what else to do,” she admitted. “We have tried everything.” She gave Lydia’s hand a soft squeeze. “You know as well as I do that young ladies like us rarely have a say in who they marry.” She tried to keep her voice gentle. “Why should you be any different?”
Her words made Lydia’s tears fall harder. “Just come to Levinton Manor tomorrow,” she begged. “You and Lord Renshaw. You can distract the Duke. Keep the two of us from being alone together. Make sure he has no chance to propose. I know you do not wish to be around him, but it will just be for a few hours.” She squeezed her sister’s hands. “Please. I am begging you.”
Georgina closed her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to see Vincent. She was not sure her heart could bear it. Nor could she stand the thought of seeing his mother, after all the dreadful things she had heard her say. “Lydia, you are just putting off the inevitable,” she sighed.
“No,” Lydia said with a sudden firmness. “It is not over until I walk down the aisle.” Her blue eyes bore into Georgina’s. “The Duke and Dowager Duchess have to give up at some point. We just have to make sure they do so before us. And once they walk away, Grandmother will have no choice but to allow me to marry Peter.”
Somehow, Georgina doubted that. Once he ended his courtship with her, Lord Renshaw would hardly come through this ordeal with his good name intact. But she did not say such a thing to Lydia. She just drew in a long breath and every inch of courage she could muster and promised her sister she would be there.
ChapterTwenty-Three
“Ah, Miss Lydia. Wonderful to see you, my dear.” The Dowager Duchess ushered her toward the parlor of Levinton Manor. “I’m so pleased you could make it.” Reluctantly, she turned to look over her shoulder, flashing Georgina and the Baron a ghost of a smile. “And Miss Wyatt. Lord Renshaw. Thank you for coming.”
