If they wish to think me a monster, then they shall make me whatever their hearts desire. Just so long as I am not forced to stay in London.
“The ton is a pack of fools and liars,” Benedict hissed with surprising vehemence. He tugged hard at his cravat until it came loose. “What is it all for? Wealth? Hubris? I’m so blasted tired of this. If I could just run away like you have, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
Owen blinked in surprise. Good Benedict, kind Benedict, cheerful and faithful Benedict, now eager to flout the rules of Society.
“Who are you, and what did you do with my cousin?” Owen demanded, only partially joking.
Quickly growing sheepish, Benedict rubbed his face with both hands. “I don’t know. I beg your pardon… I don’t know what has gotten into me. It’s been a long day. With this marriage my father is forcing me into… He said he would cut me off if I didn’t make this happen. Can you believe it? I don’t ask for much. I don’t gamble. I only wanted…”
“Wanted what?”
A weak laugh escaped him. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter what I want, does it?”
Owen opened his mouth but closed it when he realized that he didn’t have an answer. Not for Benedict.
For himself, Owen had that agency now. That freedom. It was weighed down with responsibility and pain, yet he had the funds as a duke to do as he desired. He answered to no one but the Crown. His uncle could no longer touch him. And until the man died, Benedict would not have that freedom.
I cannot tell him how relieved I am that this responsibility does not sit on my shoulders. I won’t marry. There is another legacy I can leave, one that Ralph Comerfield can never touch. I’ll wait a week because I owe that to Benedict. I will see him married to the pretty, albeit unfriendly, lady before I leave London for my plants again.
One week and then home. The thought brought him peace.
Settling back on the bench, Owen told himself he could survive for that long. It would all be over soon.
CHAPTER3
“Marry Lord Egerton?” Georgiana stammered out.
She sat in the chair in front of her father’s desk, only now taking it, though he’d suggested she sit a moment ago. She had declined the offer with the belief he wanted to talk about the Season. Or the summer. Or something about the house.
Anything but that.
Pausing from putting a few marks on a page he was checking, her father glanced up and raised an eyebrow. “You’re a clever girl, Georgiana. Don’t make me repeat myself twice, will you?” He slowly put his quill down before clasping his hands atop the desk. “It’s time you married. Since you don’t seem inclined to find a match on your own, I took it upon myself to do so for you.”
His words made her shake her head. “I wouldn’t exactly call this a gift if that’s how you’re treating it. I didn’t ask for this, Father. This is a new era. Women can marry whoever they desire.”
“Fine. Who do you desire?”
“I…” She licked her lips. “I don’t know. No one.”
He raised his other eyebrow, the one expression she took to mean his empathy. And yet she knew it wasn’t enough for him to change his mind. Once decided, he didn’t change it. They were both stubborn like that.
Back when her mother first passed, only a few months after Emma was born, her father had been awkward and hesitant around her. She remembered him patting her on the head until she turned twelve. Then he patted her hand. And then, by the time she had her first Season, he stopped touching her altogether. It usually seemed like he tried to forget she was around.
“Then you’ll marry him. I could have married you off to Lord Humphries, you know. He’s nosing around for a third wife.”
“Fourth,” she mumbled.
He tilted his head. “You’ll be a marchioness, Georgiana. You have a large dowry and will want for nothing. This is not a punishment.”
“But it feels like one.”
She tried not to pout. But her head was pounding, and her chest felt so tight, as if she was running out of air. Crushed with this news, Georgiana felt the world falling all around her. She wasn’t ready to marry or to leave her home. She especially couldn’t leave Emma.
“You didn’t even ask me. The papers are signed—all you need is my signature, isn’t it? What if I refuse?”
His gaze narrowed on her. “You would?”
“I…” She bit her lip, uncertain what she should respond. But she was not ready to tell a lie either.
