Exhaling loudly, Georgiana stared at him. “You’re being childish.”
“I am not.” He paused and shook his head, trying to convince himself he was right. His heart pounded. This woman was going to drive him mad. Why had he thought he could dine with her? “We are talking, are we not? Yet, even when we do talk, there is no guarantee of honesty.”
A short laugh of surprise escaped her lips. “Honesty? What does that mean?”
“I think you know exactly what that means,” he said sharply.
He rose at once, pushing back his chair with a heavy thud. When the napkin in his lap started to fall, he quickly reached out to catch it.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Georgiana jump.
Was that a jump? Or a flinch?
The question made Owen freeze. He watched the napkin pool into a wrinkled heap on his boots. A memory from his childhood came to mind. He’d dropped his napkin once before at supper in front of his uncle. The Marquess had risen, lifted a hand, and slapped him across the face.
Except now Owen wasn’t in that position. He wasn’t shrinking back in his chair. He wasn’t even seated. Blinking, he considered his black polished boots and remembered the way his uncle had towered over him. No longer the scared boy, he could very well be the titled tormentor.
“I…”
“Owen?” Georgiana asked quietly.
“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t meet her gaze. “I… I have to go.”
And out of the room he ran. Owen stretched his long legs in desperation, trying to get anywhere so long as it was out of there. A mess of emotions trailed along to torture him. Was he turning into his uncle, the one man he had sworn never to emulate? Was Georgiana scared of him? Could he hurt her if the opportunity arose? Would he?
I don’t know. I don’t know. All I know is that I have to get out of here and away from her. This is wrong. Everything I’ve done is wrong. Why am I even here? I should leave. Leave for the country, leave for the Continent. Anywhere I am safe and free. And if I am gone, then she, too, is safe and free.
CHAPTER17
Georgiana bent down to pick up the napkin. By the time she straightened, still sitting in her chair, the Duke had vanished.
Her gaze flitted from the footman slowly closing the door, so she was in the room alone, to the napkin. It was pristine white with a lace hem. She ran her thumb over the lace while she searched for answers she already sensed she was not going to find.
“What on earth just happened?”
As expected, there was no reply. Georgiana gently folded the napkin while replaying the conversation that had ended abruptly. Her heart was still pounding in her chest. What could have been an innocent supper between husband and wife had turned into something she didn’t quite understand.
Arguments were not new to her. Nor was misunderstanding her husband. But she found herself perplexed by his mood and especially the way he had stared at her with that haunted expression before leaving.
Fleeing is more like it. Like I had done something to him. Can he not manage a single argument with me any longer? Is that why he left?
“Your Grace?”
She looked up to see Mrs. Helen standing with the cook in the entryway. They furrowed their brows as they glanced at the empty seat beside her.
“I… I must apologize.” Georgiana managed a tight smile. “I believe we’ve lost our appetites. Please return the food to the kitchens. The servants can eat what we didn’t. I’ll just take tea in the library, and then you can retire early for the evening.”
Although Mrs. Helen followed her down the hall with that worried look, Georgiana didn’t have anything else to say. She didn’t have answers for either of them. Though tempted as she was to chase after her husband and make him explain himself, she decided against it.
Instead, she drank her favorite jasmine tea in the library, with a few candles set beside her. She attempted reading for a while before losing interest. She decidedly wrote a letter and then blew out the candles on her way to her bedchamber.
Georgiana had the letter sent the following morning. To her delight, she had a response before noon. It gave her two hours to ready the parlor.
And then a knock sounded at the door.
“I’ll get it!” she squealed, hurrying past Wentworth to the front entrance.
The door wasn’t even opened the entire way when Emma flew into her arms with a shout. Georgiana laughed, feeling the tears stinging the corners of her eyes as she pulled her sister close. The tightness that had been growing in her chest eased now.
