Never Judge a Lady by Her Cover
Page 44
And that was what she had been. Not a mother. Not in the way a woman should be. She’d been so concerned with sullying her daughter with her reputation that she’d become a secondary player in Caroline’s life.
No more.
Not if she could help it.
“I never —” she started. Stopped. He did not speak, infinitely patient. No doubt it was that patience that made him such a remarkable reporter. She filled his silence. “I never feel quite as though I belong there.”
Because she did not belong there.
They walked for a bit longer. “But that does not mean that you cannot belong there.”
“First I have to wish to belong there.”
He understood. “The devastating battle between what one wants, and what one should want.”
“She deserves a family,” she said. “A respectable one. With a home. And a —” She stopped, considering the rest of the sentence. “I don’t know.” She cast about for something that would provide normalcy, finally settled on: “A cat. Or whatever normal girls have.”
As though that did not sound positively idiotic.
He did not seem to think so. “She is not a normal girl.”
“But she could be.” If not for me. She left the last unsaid.
“And you think Langley’s title will make her so.”
The title was a means to an end. Couldn’t he see that? “I do,” she said.
“Because Chase won’t have you.” The words were a shock, unexpected and unpleasant. Filled with anger, she realized, on her behalf.
“Even if Chase did want me.”
He raised a hand, and she sensed the irritation in the gesture. “You cannot tell me he is not an aristocrat. A wealthy and powerful one at that. Why else keep his identity such a secret?”
She did not speak. Could not risk revealing anything.
“He could give you everything you seek, but even now, as he hangs you in the wind, as he offers you as prey to Society’s wolves, you protect him.”
“It is not like that,” she said.
“So you love him. But do not for one moment believe that it is not his fault that your hands are tied. He should marry you himself. Throw his mighty weight behind you.”
“If he could…” She let the words trail off, hoping he would not hear their implicit deceit.
“Is he married?”
She did not answer. How could she?
“Of course, you won’t tell me that.” He smiled, but the expression lacked humor. “If he is, he’s an ass. And if he’s not…” He trailed off.
“What?” she prodded.
He looked away, out at the lake, still and silver in the March light. For a moment, she thought he would not answer. And then he said, “If he’s not, he’s a fool.” She caught her breath at the words, as he turned back toward her and met her gaze. “I find I tolerate him less and less these days.”
“Even if he were unmarried, I do not want him,” she said, hating the words. Hating the lie she perpetuated with them. That Chase was other. That Chase was some mysterious, powerful man to whom they were both beholden.
“No, you want Langley,” he said.
I want you. She bit back the words. Where had they come from? “He’s a good choice. Kind. Decent.” Safe.
“Titled,” he said.
“And that,” she agreed.
They walked for a long moment, and he said, “It’s not a choice if there’s only one man on the list, you know.” When she did not reply, he added, “You should have a choice.”
She should.
But she didn’t.
By the end of the season, she would be married. Whether Langley agreed to it on his own or with prodding, he would marry her. He’d been selected for his qualities. And his secret, which she wouldn’t hesitate to use if necessary.
It did not matter that somehow, something had upset the balance of Chase-Anna-Georgiana, and that, in this situation, blackmail made her squeamish. It was the only way.
Choice was a farce.
But here, in this moment, she had one. West wanted her. And she wanted him. And here, now, she had a choice.
She could have what she should have for a lifetime… or have what she wished for a moment.
Or perhaps she could have both.
Why not take a moment with West? He was the perfect partner – he knew her secrets – but not her whole truth. He knew she was Anna and Georgiana, knew why she was searching for a husband, was instrumental in the search. There was something tremendously freeing in the idea that he might be her choice. Now. Before she had no choice but to choose another.
It was tremendously clear all of a sudden.
“Do you have a mistress?”
She blurted out the question with a lack of finesse that appalled her. What had happened to Anna? Where was London’s greatest lightskirt? More importantly, where was all-powerful and ever-certain Chase?
She wanted to toss herself into the Serpentine.
Why did this man have such a horrifying effect on her?
His brows rose at her question, but he somehow, blessedly, resisted the no doubt overwhelming urge to mock her delivery. “I do not.”
She nodded once, and continued to walk along the edge of the lake. “I only ask because I would not wish to… overstep.”
Why were the words so difficult?
Because he was watching her. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. He would be watching her a great deal more if she got the damn words out.
The thought did not help.
“By all means, Lady Georgiana, I encourage you to overstep. As much as you’d like.”
No more.
Not if she could help it.
“I never —” she started. Stopped. He did not speak, infinitely patient. No doubt it was that patience that made him such a remarkable reporter. She filled his silence. “I never feel quite as though I belong there.”
Because she did not belong there.
They walked for a bit longer. “But that does not mean that you cannot belong there.”
“First I have to wish to belong there.”
He understood. “The devastating battle between what one wants, and what one should want.”
“She deserves a family,” she said. “A respectable one. With a home. And a —” She stopped, considering the rest of the sentence. “I don’t know.” She cast about for something that would provide normalcy, finally settled on: “A cat. Or whatever normal girls have.”
As though that did not sound positively idiotic.
He did not seem to think so. “She is not a normal girl.”
“But she could be.” If not for me. She left the last unsaid.
“And you think Langley’s title will make her so.”
The title was a means to an end. Couldn’t he see that? “I do,” she said.
“Because Chase won’t have you.” The words were a shock, unexpected and unpleasant. Filled with anger, she realized, on her behalf.
“Even if Chase did want me.”
He raised a hand, and she sensed the irritation in the gesture. “You cannot tell me he is not an aristocrat. A wealthy and powerful one at that. Why else keep his identity such a secret?”
She did not speak. Could not risk revealing anything.
“He could give you everything you seek, but even now, as he hangs you in the wind, as he offers you as prey to Society’s wolves, you protect him.”
“It is not like that,” she said.
“So you love him. But do not for one moment believe that it is not his fault that your hands are tied. He should marry you himself. Throw his mighty weight behind you.”
“If he could…” She let the words trail off, hoping he would not hear their implicit deceit.
“Is he married?”
She did not answer. How could she?
“Of course, you won’t tell me that.” He smiled, but the expression lacked humor. “If he is, he’s an ass. And if he’s not…” He trailed off.
“What?” she prodded.
He looked away, out at the lake, still and silver in the March light. For a moment, she thought he would not answer. And then he said, “If he’s not, he’s a fool.” She caught her breath at the words, as he turned back toward her and met her gaze. “I find I tolerate him less and less these days.”
“Even if he were unmarried, I do not want him,” she said, hating the words. Hating the lie she perpetuated with them. That Chase was other. That Chase was some mysterious, powerful man to whom they were both beholden.
“No, you want Langley,” he said.
I want you. She bit back the words. Where had they come from? “He’s a good choice. Kind. Decent.” Safe.
“Titled,” he said.
“And that,” she agreed.
They walked for a long moment, and he said, “It’s not a choice if there’s only one man on the list, you know.” When she did not reply, he added, “You should have a choice.”
She should.
But she didn’t.
By the end of the season, she would be married. Whether Langley agreed to it on his own or with prodding, he would marry her. He’d been selected for his qualities. And his secret, which she wouldn’t hesitate to use if necessary.
It did not matter that somehow, something had upset the balance of Chase-Anna-Georgiana, and that, in this situation, blackmail made her squeamish. It was the only way.
Choice was a farce.
But here, in this moment, she had one. West wanted her. And she wanted him. And here, now, she had a choice.
She could have what she should have for a lifetime… or have what she wished for a moment.
Or perhaps she could have both.
Why not take a moment with West? He was the perfect partner – he knew her secrets – but not her whole truth. He knew she was Anna and Georgiana, knew why she was searching for a husband, was instrumental in the search. There was something tremendously freeing in the idea that he might be her choice. Now. Before she had no choice but to choose another.
It was tremendously clear all of a sudden.
“Do you have a mistress?”
She blurted out the question with a lack of finesse that appalled her. What had happened to Anna? Where was London’s greatest lightskirt? More importantly, where was all-powerful and ever-certain Chase?
She wanted to toss herself into the Serpentine.
Why did this man have such a horrifying effect on her?
His brows rose at her question, but he somehow, blessedly, resisted the no doubt overwhelming urge to mock her delivery. “I do not.”
She nodded once, and continued to walk along the edge of the lake. “I only ask because I would not wish to… overstep.”
Why were the words so difficult?
Because he was watching her. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. He would be watching her a great deal more if she got the damn words out.
The thought did not help.
“By all means, Lady Georgiana, I encourage you to overstep. As much as you’d like.”
