Chapter 11.
Georgie experienced a mad, irrational urge to blurt out,Go on then, but bit her tongue instead.
Wylde let the silence play out for another long, uncomfortable moment, then said, “So, no. An annulment due to my impotence is out of the question.”
She dragged in a calming breath; she felt as if she’d survived a close encounter with a wild animal. “Well, the only other reason for an annulment would be on account of fraud. But you’ve already said that the name you signed on the register was enough to bind us legally, so I can’t see how we could argue that. And we’re both over the legal age of consent.”
The ticking of the porcelain clock on the mantel seemed unnaturally loud and condemning. Georgie worried her lower lip as waves of guilt and shame rolled over her. She’d ruined this man’s life—albeit unintentionally—by barging into Newgate and forcing him to marry her. An awful thought suddenly occurred to her. “Oh no! There wasn’t anyone else you wanted to marry, was there?”
His mouth curved faintly. “No. Although I’m sure the ladies of thetonwill go into mourning when they hear I’m off the market.” His tone carried a cynical edge.
“Have youneverconsidered marriage?”
“Honestly? No. I thought I’d die in France or Spain before I ever had to make a decision.”
Her heart twisted at the blunt truth of his words. What horrors had he faced? She’d pored over Juliet’s scandal sheets last night, gleaning every scrap of gossip about him. He’d fought in the Peninsular War and at Waterloo. Three years in the Rifles under General Graham. It was disconcerting to realize the depths of his worldly experience so vastly outweighed her own. He would be a formidable opponent. Or ally.
“Why were you in Newgate?”
“I never was, officially. As far as thetonis concerned, I was languishing in the Fleet for a gambling debt.”
“So why—?”
“Since leaving the army, I’ve been working for Sir Nathaniel Conant, Chief Magistrate of Bow Street.”
Her surprise must have shown on her face because he smiled. “Bow Street usually deals with lower and middle-class criminals, so when a case comes up that involves theton, none of the regular runners can get very far. That’s where I come in. I have access to all levels of society. I assist with any cases that require contact with the aristocracy.”
Georgie’s mind reeled. Why would a man like him choose to fight crime when he could be sunning himself like a gilded peacock on some country estate or living on credit and his aristocratic name and sponging off friends and relations, like half theton?
“I’m trying to discover the connection between some wealthy nob, a bunch of Kent smugglers, and a plot to rescue Bonaparte from exile.”
She sat back in her chair. Of all the tales she’d expected him to spin, this one topped the lot. What he was describing was dangerous work. “Why?”
He slanted her an ironic look. “Not from any burning sense of patriotism, I can assure you. Patriotism got me shot in Spain and nearly blown to pieces in Belgium. I need the money.”
Disappointment made her stomach sink. Ah. He’d merely been biding his time before asking for cash. “Did you know who I was, when we wed?”
“I knewofyou. Georgiana Caversteed, the shipping heiress.”
She tightened her grip on her reticule. “Did you think you would become rich by marrying me?”
His lips quirked again. “Not after I read and signed your waiver. That was well done, by the way. Wonderfully emasculating. Although the five hundred pounds was most appreciated.” He shrugged, as if the loss of the rest of her fortune was of no consequence to him.
Georgie didn’t know what to make of that. No one had ever dismissed her money quite so casually. Her wealth usually hovered in the background of every conversation, a silent, unacknowledged barrier to true friendship and trust. She shook her head. Everyone wanted something, and Wylde was no different. She just had to find out what it was.
“So, we can’t get an annulment. What about a divorce?” he asked.
“You would have to petition that I had been adulterous.”
His quizzical gaze raked her, from the top of her head, down over her breasts, to her toes and back, as if he could somehow see whether another man’s hands had touched her. “And that hasn’t been the case?”
Heat rose and she squirmed in her seat. “No,” shemanaged breathlessly. “I have not broken my vows.” She resisted the urge to ask the same of him. It was none of her business. “Besides, a divorce is out of the question. It would require an Act of Parliament, which would create precisely the kind of scandal I am trying to avoid.”
In all honesty, Juliet would probably welcome a scandal; if Mother was forced to relinquish her dreams of a title, her sister could marry simpering Simeon instead. But Mother would be hurt. She truly cared about the opinion of thetonand loved the gaiety of London. She wouldn’t want to be banished to the wilds of Lincolnshire. She’d experienced enough heartache when Georgie’s father had died. Georgie refused to add to it.
Wylde tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “So, we can’t avoid being married.”
Georgie grimaced. “No. I’m sorry. It was never my intention to—”
