I’m to tell Peckham to send me to an apothecary.
“Our relationship was brief,” she continued.
Only the physical aspect.
Georgina blinked back another flood of tears which threatened to stream down her cheeks.
“I see.” His voice was filled with sympathy.
Her hand stretched over her stomach. A child lived beneath the press of her fingers.Leo’schild. She wouldn’t be sending a note to Peckham. The very idea was abhorrent. How badly she wished to tell Marcus Barrington she would bear his grandchild, but she could not. No one must guess. Leo might force her to get rid of this growing life she already loved. Harold would certainly do something horrible. Her parents would either declare her a whore or announce their daughter would be giving birth to a future earl.
“You are not the first lady to find herself in such a situation. The wisest course is for you to leave London. Are there friends you can visit? Perhaps here or in America?”
“No, Your Grace.” Georgina pulled the steel into her spine. Her only friend was Welles, and she most certainly could not tell him. “But there is a place I can go. Far from London.” Masterson’s hunting lodge in Scotland. Harold had shown little interest in the property thus far, which she assumed wouldn’t change, at least at present. But Harold liked hazard, and Clarissa spent lavishly. And there were those markers still sitting in Elysium’s safe. The lodge was destined to be sold at some point.
Harold.
Blinding panic assailed her. Her hands trembled at the thought of Harold finding her, swollen with child. She must hide before her condition became apparent. Careful arrangements must be made. “My husband owned a hunting lodge in Scotland.”
“I have a better destination for you,” the duke said. “One Lord Masterson won’t be inclined to visit as he might the hunting lodge. You must allow me to handle the arrangements. Far easier for me to accomplish such a thing without suspicion than you.”
“Why would you help me, Your Grace? You don’t even know me.” Georgina was not ungrateful for the offer of assistance; it was only that the duke’s kindness was so unexpected.
“I told you, I’m trying to be a better man than I once was. Haven’t you been listening?” He quirked a brow at her. “And you are in desperate need of a friend, I think. I’ll consider you penance for my past sins. At the very least, I can get you out of London and help you hide. My duchess would never forgive me if I didn’t offer assistance. Were she aware of your situation, she would insist I do so.” He gave her a reassuring look. “But I won’t tell her. You have my word.”
“Thank you.” Georgina looked up into the Duke of Averell’s beautiful face, so like Leo’s, and promptly fell into a weeping fit the likes of which she hadn’t done since she was a child. His arms, solid and full of protectiveness, held her while she sobbed.
There would be no forgetting Leo Murphy now.
8
Georgina stood facing the mirror, clad only in her chemise, and pulled down the cotton over the tiny rise of her stomach. It was no more noticeable than when she’d been unexpectedly visited by a duke. She was generously curved. Rounded. Had she been reed-thin, her condition might be more readily apparent.
She had sat alone in the garden for a long time after the Duke of Averell had left her, mulling over his generous offer of assistance, which she had accepted because she wasn’t sure what else to do. Harold would be told only that the duke and his uncle had been old friends and because of that friendship, Averell had extended an invitation for Georgina to stay at one of his remote estates so that she might grieve in private. Georgina didn’t wish to stay in London with so many memories nor at Beechwood Court. She craved a change of scenery and absolute solitude after Masterson’s horrible death. Harold would never protest nor contradict the Duke of Averell as he might if Georgina simply requested the use of the hunting lodge.
Harold had been shocked after the duke had asked to speak to him. Suspicious.
I didn’t realize my uncle’s death affected you so, Georgina.
But Averell, bless him, had made it clear Georgina was under his care until she returned to London. He would take it much amiss, he told Harold, if she was disturbed while grieving.
Harold had no choice but to acquiesce. One didn’t deny a duke.
How she wished she could tell Averell the truth. But there were too many tangled threads. Leo. Harold. Her family. Her future as a pariah for bearing a child out of wedlock. She didn’t dare tell anyone.
Her hand caressed the small bump of her belly. She would do whatever necessary to protect the life growing within her. From the entire world, if necessary. Georgina had been sent help in the form of Averell before she’d even known she needed it. So she pushed down the guilt over not telling the duke the truth and focused on the future ahead of her. Averell was providing her safe haven, but Georgina still had to get her child out of England, as far away from Harold as she could.
She refused to think of Leo. He assuredly wasn’t thinking of her. He was far too busy collecting shiny baubles to be bothered with a child he didn’t want. Or her.
Georgina’s hand pressed against her chest. She thought in time the pain might fade. Hoped it would.
As she’d sat in the far corner of the drawing room yesterday, pretending to read, one of Clarissa’s callers had mentioned Welles and referred to Leo asthat handsome mongrel.Georgina had immediately gone still, keeping her breathing even as she turned the page of her book.
Welles and Leo, it seemed, were competing over the affections of an opera singer. In a rare departure, it seems the opera singer wasn’t Italian, but French. Stunning. Sophisticated.
Georgina had nearly torn the page, she’d turned it so ferociously.
“My lady.”
