Page 51 of A Scarred Wallflower for the Duke
“Are you all right, my dear?” he called after her, receiving no response. He looked back at the table. “Please excuse me. I must check on Miss Wyatt.” And he scurried out of the room in Georgina’s wake. Lydia hurried after him.
Vincent sat motionless for several moments, feeling as though he had been caught up in a sudden whirlwind. He had no idea what had just happened. He looked across the table; at his scheming mother and the scheming Dowager Viscountess, determined to wrangle their children’s lives into something that suited them. Completely ignorant to the distress it was causing them all.
Why am I letting these ladies determine the rest of my life?
And for the first time in his life, Vincent saw with complete and utter clarity.
* * *
Lydia was right. This was very, very bad. Georgina rushed up the staircase, heart thumping. She had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that she had to get out of that damn dining room. Everything was about to unravel. And she could not sit there and watch it.
She threw open the door of the sitting room and hurried inside. She had barely caught her breath before Lord Renshaw barreled in after her.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I… It seemed like the right thing to do,” he stuttered. “They believe you to be my betrothed, after all.”
“Yes.” Georgina began to pace. “They do indeed.”
“And to be honest,” he said with a faint smile, “I really needed to get away from that dinner table. I felt as though my head were about to implode.”
Georgina managed a humorless laugh. “Yes, it rather had that effect.”
The door cracked open suddenly and Lydia rushed inside.
“You as well?” Georgina said with a sigh. “Someone really ought to go down there and rescue Marcus.”
“We are about to be ruined,” Lydia said, joining Georgina in her frantic pacing across the sitting room. “Ruined, Georgie. Now Grandmother thinks you and Peter are engaged, and you’ve not told her and… and…”
“Yes, Lydia. I understand.” Georgina rubbed her eyes.
“Grandmother will never speak to either of us again,” Lydia wailed. “And poor Peter will have a reputation as a cad who broke off his betrothal. And I will be forced to marry the—”
“Lord Renshaw!” Vincent boomed as he strode through the doorway. “Are you in here?”
“Oh good Lord,” muttered Lydia. “What in Heaven’s name is he doing here?”
Georgina shot Vincent a frantic look. “Why are you here, Your Grace? Please go back downstairs. We shall all be down in a moment.”
To her surprise, he strode toward her and gripped her hand firmly. “Georgina,” he said, “I am here because I wish to marry you.”
Georgina stared, her lips parting in disbelief. “What?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
Vincent turned to Lord Renshaw, not releasing his grip on Georgina’s hand. “I do not know the true nature of your relationship with Miss Wyatt, My Lord. But I am here to tell you now that I wish very much to make her my wife. And if you refuse to stand aside, I shall challenge you to a duel.”
Georgina’s eyes widened. She could barely make sense of what she was hearing.
“A duel, Your Grace?” Lord Renshaw squeaked.
“Did I misspeak?”
The Baron’s face paled. “No, Your Grace. I—”
“Oh my,” squeaked Lydia. “Georgie, do something. Quickly.” She hurried to Lord Renshaw’s side, pressing a protective hand to his shoulder.
“What is it to be, Renshaw?” Vincent demanded. “I am willing to go back to the dining room right this instant and tell everyone exactly how I feel about Miss Wyatt. If you object, then I suggest—”
“That is enough,” Georgina said suddenly. She turned to Vincent, squeezing his hand. “Your Grace, I think you and I ought to speak. Alone.”
