Unsure exactly what to do when a duke introduced himself, Georgina executed a perfect curtsy. “Your Grace. If you are here for Lord Masterson—”
“I’m not,” he replied in a chilly tone. “I am here to speak to you, Lady Masterson.”
Georgina was sure no woman in her right mind hadeverrefused this man. His sons had inherited the same innate sensuality and arrogance. A potent draw for any female. She didn’t know much about the Duke of Averell other than what she’d gleaned from gossip. He was rarely in town, preferring to spend his time with his duchess in the country, though at one time, Marcus Barrington had been the most notorious rake in London.
Who could blame him?Good Lord.
Oddly enough, while neither Welles nor Leo had told her the reason for their shared hatred of Marcus Barrington, Clarissa had not been so silent. Upon seeing that Welles had sent Georgina a note after Masterson’s death, the entire sordid tale had been revealed at the dinner table while they enjoyed Cook’s excellent roast duck. Marcus Barrington, in his arrogance, had kept his wife and mistress under the same roof for years. Both had borne sons. Leo and Welles. Welles’s mother had died tragically after discovering the existence of both mistress and bastard.
“Her own lady’s maid was the duke’s lover. Can you imagine? She went to confront Averell.” Clarissa had savagely cut into a bite of duck. “She was with child and tripped down a flight of stairs. Both she and the babe died.”
Georgina could clearly see, as could anyone with a brain, that Welles blamed the duke for the death of his mother. The reason behind Leo’s hatred was less clear.
“You’re here to speak to me?” she said to the duke. Welles wouldn’t have sent him. Nor Leo. Neither of them was on speaking terms with Averell. She doubted that had changed.
“I can see you are surprised by my sudden appearance. People often are. The advantage of being a duke. Shall we stroll about?” Without waiting for a response, he tucked her hand into his elbow and started down the small, winding path in the direction of the grouping of rose bushes.
Marcus Barrington smelled wonderful. Like leather and cheroot. There was something very protective about him, as if he would volunteer to slay dragons in her defense if only Georgina would ask. Georgina thought that part of his attraction. Leo invoked the same response in her.
All well and good, but why was Averell here and asking to speak to her?
When they reached the bench behind the rose bushes, Averell paused and glanced back in the direction of the house.
Did Harold know he was here? Anderson must be relating the news of the duke’s arrival even now. Harold would be apoplectic at knowing Georgina was conversing with Averell.
“This is an odd meeting, I’m aware.” Long, elegant fingers drummed against one thigh. “And don’t concern yourself with the newly minted Lord Masterson. I’ll merely tell him I came to discuss an outstanding debt with you. He need not know the debt is mine and not his uncle’s.”
“A debt? My apologies, Your Grace, but I find it difficult to believe that anyone would owe my husband rather than the other way around.”
The tiny bits of gold floating in his eyes sparkled back at her. “Strange, I’ll grant you. But it is a debt I must repay. I don’t come to London very often and only recently became aware of his death.”
“My husband had not been in the best health for some time. He collapsed one day, lingering for many weeks.” Many agonizing weeks. Masterson suffered greatly before he finally died.
“Death comes for all of us.” The duke looked away from her for several moments before turning back to her with a smile. “I would make amends before mine, my lady. I am trying to be a better man.” He gave her a pointed look. “My debt now belongs to you.”
“I don’t understand.” Georgina’s stomach pitched again. She really should have avoided the poached egg this morning. The scent of Harold’s pomade, still lodged in her nostrils, wasn’t helping. And the duke looked so much like Leo.Soundedlike Leo. It was disorienting.
“Lady Masterson.” Concern lit his handsome features. “You seem...unwell. I didn’t mean to upset you. Most people would be happy to have a duke owe them a debt.”
Georgina placed a gloved hand over her mouth. “My apologies, Your Grace. The last month has been demanding.”
“Hmm.” His gaze ran over her face and down to her mid-section.
“Oh. Dear.” She placed her hand over her lips feeling her breakfast about to make a reappearance. Her hearty constitution had deserted her of late.
“Over here.” Averell pulled her firmly to a large pot filled with a spray of half-dead peonies and ferns.
To her utter shame, Georgina cast up all her breakfast and possibly some of last night’s dinner. Clarissa insisted a rich sauce accompany every meal. Elaborate desserts rather than fruit or cheese. Georgina’s stomach didn’t care for the change in the menu.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured as another wave of sickness had her grabbing the edge of the pot. This would finish off the poor peonies immediately, though the fern might yet survive.
The duke patted her back gently, murmuring consoling words in a low tone, sounding very much like Leo. Holding out a monogrammed handkerchief, he dabbed gently at her mouth while she stood horrified at having become ill. Tears pricked her eyes. Georgina had rarely, if ever, cried, until recently. But between Leo, feeling ill most of the time, and Harold’s growing hatred, Georgina found herself shamefully weeping at the slightest provocation.
“Please forgive me, Your Grace,” she whispered as he directed her back to the stone bench.
“Not at all, my lady.” He regarded her with concern. “Perhaps you should go inside. We can continue our conversation at another time.”
“No, I’m better. Please, return to what you were saying before my unfortunate accident. You are trying to be a better man. Repaying debts and the like. Very honorable.” She clasped her hands. “I forgive you my husband’s debt, Your Grace.” Georgina gave him a weak smile.
