Except Owen couldn’t find his voice. Or his words. He backed out of the stables, tripping over himself like a young fool.
“Blast it,” was all he could muster as he turned around to go back to the house.
He couldn’t go riding now. Not with her in there, talking so gently to his horse. Her voice threatened to undo him in ways he didn’t understand.
I won’t allow it, I won’t. I just need to collect myself. Next time, she won’t win.
CHAPTER11
Georgiana bit her lip, eyeing the silver platter. “That’s it?”
Already she held three invitations that had sat there a moment ago. But she had been expecting another one. Staring down at the plate in the hope that another letter might magically appear, she tuned out the sigh that Wentworth let out.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but that is all the correspondence that has arrived this morning.”
“Did you take anything to His Grace? Perhaps something of mine was stuck to a letter he received? It’s happened before. Or…”
She grew frustrated, trying to think up another explanation for why she hadn’t received a letter from her sister.
Again, the old butler shook his head. He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I shall let you know at once if anything comes from your father.”
“Thank you.”
She didn’t care to correct him, as her mood grew despondent once more.
I know it has only been two days. Jean arrived yesterday with a drawing from Emma. But I thought she would send me a reply about when she could visit me. Maybe she wants to finish another painting first and send it along? Unless Father is barring her from writing to me. He’s not that cruel, he can’t be.
“Oh bother,” came Jean’s gentle voice as they met on the stairs. “I know that look. There’s not a message from Emma, is there? If you wish, I could go back to the house and make some excuse to be there so I might talk to her.”
Struggling to smile, Georgiana shook her head. “That’s very generous of you, Jean. Thank you. But I won’t put you in that position. Besides, I don’t want a letter from her. I wanther.”
Her maid glanced around to see if anyone else was nearby before she leaned forward. “Have you talked to His Grace about inviting her to stay with you?”
“I haven’t. He… he doesn’t care for company much.”
That was Georgiana’s excuse for her husband, and yet it was more than ridiculous. She wanted to laugh at her own words. The Duke definitely didn’t care for company, and heespeciallydid not care forhercompany.
If yesterday morning’s conversation in the yellow parlor had not confirmed that for her, the letter he had left her in her new study had done the trick.
The man was, as she had since noted, not a romantic. He was practical, cold, and unfeeling. He’d left a short note detailing her basic responsibilities and her access to money. The letter had ended by explaining that they did not need to attend social evens together or even dine together. Soon, he would return to the country estate, while she could do anything else.
Be anywhere other than there, I think he was telling me. Which is good, because I don’t wish to be there at all.
“No, he does not,” Jean scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “But he can be peculiar about it. If your father had heard the way some of his servants talk to him, goodness me, they would be out the door in a minute.”
Georgiana blinked. “What is that supposed to mean?”
A delighted expression crossed her servant’s face. Something had happened.
After Jean glanced about again, she tugged Georgiana off the stairs and into the nearby alcove for privacy. It was gossip. She always grew much too enthusiastic when she learned something she shouldn’t.
“Jean…”
Did she want to hear the gossip? Georgiana thought she shouldn’t. And yet it had to do with her husband. Shouldn’t she know?
“I cannot believe you didn’t hear it last night, because the entire household has been talking about it,” her maid said quickly in a low voice. “Of course, I believe they were down in the study and not in the bedchamber, which would explain as much.”
Georgiana gave her a stern look. “What exactly did I not hear?”