Page 23 of His Stolen Duchess
Georgina smiled faintly as she took her seat. “He doesn’t match my gown.”
She let the footman settle her chair before fixing her gaze firmly on the far wall, pretending she hadn’t noticed how easily he could unsettle her. That maddening pull between them had begun in the carriage, and it had only deepened since. Each time she saw him, she would recall the closeness of their near-kiss, and the sensation of it would never quite leave her.
She hated how it lingered and how she, in turn, responded by trying to provoke him into feeling the same. Judging by the way he had looked at her two days prior, right before leaving her in the company of her parrot, she suspected it was nearly working.
Out of the corner of her eye, she stole a glance at him. He sat composed at the head of the table, every inch the Duke, his broad shoulders filling out the severe lines of his evening coat. The cut of it, sharp and tailored, only seemed to emphasize the strength beneath—strong arms, a firm chest, the unmistakable build of a man shaped by years of exercise, not idle society.
She wasn’t quite sure why she kept noticing such things… only that it was difficult not to.
The footmen entered and set bowls of soup before them, then withdrew, leaving the room in near silence.
Georgina waited for the Duke to begin before picking up her spoon. She kept her gaze carefully averted, but the quiet pressed down on her with every passing second. She very nearly considered fetching Mr. Squawksby simply to fill the air.
At last, she broke the silence. “Thank you again for allowing me to keep my parrot.”
“You are markedly more agreeable when we’re alone,” he observed, his tone dry. “In company, however, you seem determined to provoke me.”
She blinked. “I thought we were merely conversing.”
“Ah.” He lifted his spoon, still not glancing in her direction. “So that’s what you call it? A pleasant conversation?”
“I never said it was pleasant,” she muttered, the words escaping before she could stop herself.
Heat prickled her cheeks. She needed to regain her composure. She forced herself to focus on the soup in front of her, determined to eat with dignity. But no matter how carefully she moved, her spoon scraped against the porcelain, each stroke louder than the last.
She inwardly cursed both the soup and the impossible man seated across from her.
“Why did you run away from your first wedding?” Lysander asked.
The question caught Georgina off guard, and she almost dropped her spoon into her soup. She finally raised her head and looked at the Duke properly, only to see that he wasn’tlooking back at her. He was still silently eating his soup, as if he’d practiced since the day he was born to be able to eat soup without making a noise.
She pondered the question, knowing that the longer she went before answering, the more suspicious he would become of her.
“I… I didn’t know my betrothed very well,” she answered.
“And you knew me well before you accepted my proposal?”
“In a way.” Georgina placed her spoon down beside her bowl. “I knew more about you from what you did for me than I knew about Lord Abbington.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question,” the Duke pressed.
Georgina knew it didn’t, but she also didn’t know what she wanted to tell him. When she dared to look at him out of the corner of her eye, she saw him staring back at her and decided that the truth had to come out sometime.
“On the morning of my wedding, I found one of the maids, Dottie, in the kitchens. She was crying and inconsolable. I pleaded with her to tell me what was wrong. It took some time, but she finally admitted that she was with child. Then, she revealed that Lord Abbington was the father, and that he claimed the child was not his and that he wanted nothing to do with her. I couldn’t face marrying a man who would disregardhis own child like that, or the woman who was to be the mother of his child.”
“It’s not uncommon for lords to have children out of wedlock,” the Duke commented nonchalantly.
The comment took Georgina aback. She didn’t know what she wanted to ask first—whether he had children she should know about, or if he was dismissing Lord Abbington’s actions.
“It wasn’t only that,” Georgina retorted. “When I confronted him… the way he spoke about Dottie, and…” she hesitated as she remembered how he’d suggested she offer herself to him before their wedding.
“And?” the Duke motioned for her to continue.
“And several other things. He never cared about me either. He only wanted me to give him an heir, after which he intended to send me off to the Mediterranean to live.”
Lysander watched her carefully, his gaze sharp and assessing.
“And what of the maid?” he asked, his voice quiet but cutting. “Did it ever occur to you that fleeing in such dramatic fashion might have only worsened her fate?”
