‘Don’t make any hasty decisions,’ he said. ‘Once you are married, there will be no escaping it. It will be for life.’
‘I know that.’
‘So you will make no promises to Major Gowan until I have had time to...to...’
‘To what, exactly?’
‘To find a better solution to your problem.’
‘And just how do you propose to do that? If indeed it is any of your business, which actually, I don’t think it is.’
‘Of course it is. You came to me in the first instance, specifically asking me...’ he wavered, amending what he’d been about to say ‘...for help.’
She glowered at him. ‘Yes, and you refused to be the man to come to my rescue,’ she said bitterly. ‘In no uncertain terms.’
He winced. ‘I was not in a position to make an informed decision, since you left out several pertinent facts,’ he said in self-defence.
‘Oh, and it would have made you reach a different decision, would it, if I’d succeeded in making you listen to what you didn’t want to hear?’
‘I...no...I...but I would have handled the encounter differently had I known how very desperate your circumstances are. I could never have imagined your father leaving you so wholly dependent on that woman.’
She made a derisive noise halfway between a snort and a cough.
‘I would also have explained,’ he said loftily, ‘before you left for Town, that there are many ways in which I was prepared to help you, without—’
‘Actually going to the lengths of marrying me yourself,’ she finished for him bitterly.
‘Did your stepmother never teach you it is the height of bad manners to interrupt a man when he is doing his damnedest to explain how he intends to help you get out of a fix?’
‘Oh, she taught me all sorts of lessons in manners. Do, pray, continue,’ she said with a falsely sweet smile. ‘I cannot wait to hear the brilliance of your ideas.’
He clenched his teeth. He did not, actually, have any brilliant ideas. Not a single one, to be perfectly honest. But he had no intention of admitting that.
‘You cannot just marry the first man to show an interest in you in case nobody better comes along,’ he snapped. ‘You need to think it all over, in a rational manner.’
‘In a rational manner,’ she repeated, with scepticism.
‘Yes,’ he said firmly. ‘For example, it might help if you were to draw up a list of factors which would make living with some man...’
She tilted her head to one side. ‘Bearable?’
‘I was trying to think of a more positive word, but, yes, in your case, since you have a ridiculous aversion to the whole idea of matrimony, perhaps the word bearable would do.’
‘You are a fine one to talk,’ she said, setting her own empty cup next to his on the windowsill.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Only that it’s common knowledge that you are not the marrying kind.’
‘Not the marrying kind?’ His whole being swelled with outrage. How dare she imply that he was of the same ilk as Lord Freckleton? He had a good mind to drag her into one of the convenient alcoves set aside for the purpose and make violent love to her until she had no doubt about his proclivities.
None whatsoever.
The idea of kissing her into submission...or...no, he could not see Georgie being a submissive partner. She’d either fight him off, or become an enthusiastic participant.
‘I’ll have you know,’ he said indignantly, ‘that I bedded my first woman while I was at Oxford. And have had a score of mistresses in my keeping since then.’
Her eyes widened in shock. ‘I don’t think you are supposed to talk about that sort of thing to...to someone like me.’
‘Well, I needed to make it clear.’
‘Yes, I suppose...I mean, I dare say a lot of men prefer to keep a string of mistresses rather than tie themselves to just one woman. That was one reason I thought you might not mind, um, giving me a home. As long as you knew I wouldn’t demand fidelity, or...’
‘What?’ Now she was insinuating he was loose in the haft. It was a good job he hadn’t been taking a drink at the time because he had a notion he’d have just sprayed it all over the curtains. ‘You knew about my mistresses?’
She widened her eyes as though what he’d said was rather stupid. ‘Everyone in Bartlesham knows about your mistresses. People gossip about everything you do, since there is so little going on down there. And you have lived such an exciting life...’
‘Me? Exciting?’
‘Yes. First of all going off to the Scilly Isles, for all those years, which everyone said was as good as going on the Grand Tour for a young gentleman nowadays—’
‘It was nothing of the kind! My health—’
‘And then you went off to university and created a scandal by getting involved with the daughter of your bedmaker—’
‘It wasn’t a scandal! Betty was—’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was making no sense. If she knew he’d been active in that way, for so long, then she couldn’t possibly suspect him of being...
No. Of course not. Georgiana was far too innocent to know about that sort of thing. Which brought him neatly to the next point.
‘Nobody should have repeated such gossip to you, at that age. Why, you could hardly have been more than...’ Actually, she hadn’t been that much younger than Betty. Which reflection made him feel rather flushed.
‘Oh, they didn’t,’ she said blithely. ‘But I couldn’t help overhearing things, sometimes.’
Now it was her turn to blush and look uncomfortable.
The whole situation was deuced awkward. She clearly knew details about his life he wasn’t at all comfortable with her knowing.
Though he supposed that was marginally less unpleasant than having her suspect he did not find women attractive at all.
‘Well, you shouldn’t have! You should not repeat the things you’ve overheard, either, especially not to me.’
She sighed. ‘I beg pardon. I know I’m always blurting out things I shouldn’t. It’s just—well, it’s so hard not to be frank with you, now that we are talking again. I keep forgetting that we aren’t...friends any more.’
‘Of course we are friends!’ He stared at her, feeling almost as shocked as she looked. And then something flared in her eyes. A sort of wistful look. And she leaned a little closer.
But
