He chuckled as if she had told him a joke. “Your esteemed brother and husband have been making false accusations.”
“My brother?”
His brows furrowed. “Did Jack not tell you everything?”
“He didn’t have to. I’ve met Maisie Smith.”
“Who?”
“The mother of your child.”
“Ah, yes. You are referring to the mother of Jonathan’s child. Or the caretaker of yours.” His smirk returned. “I can never remember who the little bastard belongs to.”
“My child? What are you talking about?”
He seemed taken aback. “I thought you said Jack told you.”
Her lips parted to speak, but she couldn’t fathom any sort of response. He sighed in a show of boredom.
“I informed your husband of the sorry truth that he is married to a woman who, in the impetuosity of youth, bore a child out of wedlock. The unfortunate Maisie Smith will sign a statement affirming she is raising the child as a favor to the Lockewood family.” He smiled slightly, his eyes narrowing. “He didn’t tell you.”
“A preposterous lie does not merit a reply.”
“Your husband didn’t seem to think so.”
She almost felt a physical blow in the pit of her stomach at the realization of what Jack had done. His nights of gambling and boxing had not been a result of his refusal to accept responsibility but as a means of replacing the money before she noticed it was gone. Just as he had said.
“He was not paying you to save his face, but mine.” Her voice quavered. She lifted her chin, every nerve sparking with action. “It matters not whose child he is. You will cease your threats, or pay the consequences.”
“If I am arrested, you can be assured your husband’s and brother’s pasts will come to light. The respectable Jonathan Lockewood may not want you to open a trove of his indiscretions. Nor will Jack’s esteemed grandfather be pleased with revelations his heir has married an immoral girl. Tell me…” He rubbed his jaw, staring directly into her eyes, trapping her. “Does Jack know the extent of your wantonness? You were quite the eager one in our carriage ride to Gretna Green.”
She gritted her teeth. “We both know nothing happened. You were drunk.” Memories flooded her, all sour and bitter. “And cowardly,” she couldn’t help but add.
His eyes flashed. “You didn’t seem to mind, then. And from the way you are looking at me, probably wouldn’t mind now. Jack’s extramarital activities must be taking their toll. Did you know he once shared the beds of five different women in a single week?” He clucked his tongue. “I don’t know how you can stand being married to such a rogue.”
“I did not come here to discuss the past with you, Mr. Mitford. Only the future. You may say what you will about Jack or me. Do what you like with spreading scandal. But I believe Maisie will take my side. Especially since she is now under my protection.”
He didn’t have to speak. His eyes widened almost comically, but he didn’t reveal any more of his feelings. “Bravo, Georgiana. You’ve solved the issue of Maisie’s brat. However, your brother always had an eye on rising through the government. It’s a pity how a scandal can destroy a man’s aspirations. One false word carries more weight than the truth.”
“My brother is secure in his marriage and his friends. You, unfortunately, do not have such security and must rely on deceit to move forward. I wonder what lies you’ve told that poor woman.” She indicated his lover with a nod.
“Since when did you become a supporter of the downtrodden? Spoiled Georgiana Lockewood, who stomped her feet and cried her way through life until she got exactly what she wanted?”
She rocked forward in her desire to scratch his eyes out. “I grew up, Edward, which is more than I can say for you. You are still the conceited, self-serving boy you always were.”
“And you loved me in spite of it.”
It was the only weapon he had, and he knew it. A lump rose in her throat, but she realized with surprised relief it was not of tears. It was determination and conviction.
“Yes, Edward, I loved you.” She chose each word carefully. “Or what I thought was love. I only discovered what true love is when I married Jack. You will never know how precious that can be. You will remain alone, regardless of how many rich widows you entice, or how many innocent heiresses you connive upon. You will die alone and unloved.”
He stared at her with a mixture of amusement and confusion plain on his chiseled features. “That’s a pretty speech. But how will you accomplish saving your brother’s and husband’s futures?”
“You will not receive another penny from either Jonathan or me. Write the newspapers. You may advertise around the country my brother’s and husband’s supposed misdeeds all you like. I do not care what you do. But you will stay out of our lives from here on.”
Turning on her heel, she walked deliberately away from him, keeping her back as straight as a pole even though her insides quivered.
“What if I do not obey? Perhaps we can come to our own special arrangement.”
Before she considered her actions, she spun around and walked back, her heels squishing into the damp grass. She looked directly into his eyes.
“If you ever speak to me or my family again, I will see it is the last thing you do. Further, you will abandon this duel you’ve arranged with Jack.”
“Fighting his battles for him, are you? A cheap little thing like you?”
An image of Jack appeared starkly in her mind as he demonstrated the punch that had knocked out “
the biggest Irishman I’d ever seen, Pudding Face. I drew back my arm like so…”
Her bicep tensed as she lifted her arm.
“And then I crunched my fingers into a hammer.”
Her knuckles cracked as she gripped an invisible ball in the center of her hand. Her nails dug into her palm through her thin gloves.
“The poor bastard didn’t know what was coming.”
Edward’s high-pitched scream broke the still afternoon. Blood streamed between his fingers and spattered his waistcoat as he clasped his re-broken nose.
Georgiana shook her hand and gingerly flexed her fingers. “I now understand why my husband is so enamored with boxing. It was rather enjoyable crushing your nose. Thank you, Mr. Mitford, for being such an amenable object of demonstration.”
Some boys playing on the grass laughed and pointed. One elderly gentleman out for a stroll tipped his hat. Edward’s companion pointedly turned and headed the opposite way. Georgiana hastened to her waiting coach.
Roberts handed her in, his face carefully blank as if he’d just fetched her from a social appointment. “Home now, ma’am?”
“No, to my brother’s house. And not a word of this to anyone.”
Roberts cleared his throat and shook out his handkerchief, which he handed to her. “You’ve a spot of blood on you, ma’am.”
She brushed at the red drop on the front of her pelisse. “So I do.”
Chapter Forty-One
Jonathan got into the coach without a word, as if he sensed Georgiana’s arrival was of an urgent matter. She told him all she knew in two minutes. When she was done, he shook his head, his eyes sorrowful.
“I should have told you both what Mitford had done to me. But I was…” He clasped Georgiana’s hand. “I was ashamed. My past is something I wish to keep from Sophie.”
“It isn’t worth it, dear brother,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “Sophie will forgive you anything. You should have told Jack when Edward first came to you.”
“How could I?” His eyes were shadowed and creased. “After I’d accused him of marrying you for your fortune, how could I tell him I was living my own lie?”
“He cares for you as a brother.”
“I know.” He kissed her forehead. “We should get you home, dear. I will seek out Jack myself. This night air is not good for you or the baby.” Georgiana silenced him with a look. He grinned. “I keep forgetting you are an old married woman and need not listen to a bossy big brother any longer.”
“I keep reminding Jack the very same thing.” At the mention of his name, her heart threatened to burst through her chest. She was nearly bouncing in her seat, stricken with anxiety and the urge to find him soon, soon, soon…
An hour passed, and then another. Bleary-eyed, she’d nearly fallen asleep on Jonathan’s shoulder when he gently shook her. Sitting up straight, she peered through the carriage window at the darkness by the edge of a wooded park. The eerie silence assured her they were far from London.
“Edward told me about this place long ago. He’d had one duel already. God knows how many others he’s had since. But I thought we would try here first, as I assumed the leopard would not change his spots.” Jonathan pointed to a spot beyond the clearing. “There,” he murmured.
A small group of figures stood by three carriages, their shadows flickering in the light from the carriage lamps.
“Is Jack among them?”
“I’m going to find out. Wait here.” He rapped on the roof, and Roberts brought the horses to a halt. Closing the door quietly behind him, Jonathan disappeared into the blackness.
Her chest squeezed so tight she could barely breathe. She gripped the edge of the window, straining to see. A figure suddenly appeared before her, and she stifled a scream behind her gloved hand.
“Didn’t mean to startle you, dearie.” Mrs. Leister’s face appeared ghostly white in the darkness.
“What are you doing here?” Georgiana hissed.
“I’ve come to stop them, the same as you.”
Georgiana opened the door and stepped down, taking the woman’s offered arm. She spoke before she could stop herself. “You love him.” Then, as if she should clarify her statement, “You love Jack.”
Mrs. Leister nodded briefly, her lips pinched tightly together. Georgiana found she no longer had the urge to hate the woman.
“Then, help me.”
Together, they moved through the trees and bushes, hiding in the shadows although no one noticed them. A flash of steel caught the lantern light and Georgiana gasped.
She would have been relieved they were not using pistols, as both men were dead shots, until she recalled Edward’s boastful words years ago, when he was a schoolboy.
“I won the prize for fencing. Jack and your brother were green with envy. Neither of them can touch me. Our fencing master said I should make a great pirate.”
Jack and Jonathan had teased him to no end, provoking him into giving a demonstration of his exceptional skills with a blade. Decidedly proud of his friend, Jack had clapped him on the shoulder, his face beaming.
“I pity the unfortunate soul who ever comes upon you in a fight, Mitford,”
he’d said.
Mrs. Leister’s voice brought her back to the present. “I do not see anyone else coming, Mrs. Waverley. Perhaps it is a legitimate fight.”
She had no sooner spoken when a clattering of horse hooves in the distance reached them. The two women sprang back into the bushes, Georgiana clutching her companion’s arm for balance. “It’s a patrol,” Mrs. Leister hissed in her ear, holding her low to the ground. “I suspected he lured Jack out here to have him arrested for dueling.”
Georgiana twisted away and scrambled to her feet. “We must get Jack away! Quickly!”
Without considering the prudence of her actions, she broke through the bushes and ran toward the men. Jonathan was already there, and his voice rose above the noisy group of men, pleading and threatening for the fight to cease.
She pushed past two men jostling for position and halted in her steps as if she’d struck a wall. Gasping back her fear, she took in the terrible sight.
Bereft of coats, Jack and Edward were in a grim fight for their lives. Their sabres clanged together, swishing in dangerous arcs within inches of their marks, but even still, Jack’s shirt was torn and bloodied in long slashes, whereas Edward bore only a cut on his left arm. Out of breath and panting, Jack doggedly stumbled around the makeshift circle of men, swinging too wildly one moment, coming up short the next. Edward whooped with triumph before slicing close to Jack’s ear.
Mrs. Leister wrapped her arms snugly around her waist. “Stay back,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Do not distract him.”
Panic threatened to overcome her. Georgiana clutched her hands into fists, helpless to do anything but watch the gruesome scene. Any second, Jack would falter, and Edward would deliver the deathblow. She could not save him. She could not stop the fight. She met Jonathan’s pained expression, and he shook his head slightly.
Let it be
, he silently told her.
I will not
, she replied.
“Edward!”
Her voice crackled in the moonless night. Edward’s foot struck a rock as his head swiveled toward her voice. Without turning to look at her, Jack nimbly slashed at his opponent’s arm, and Edward cried out as he dropped his sword. Jack held the tip of his bloodied sabre at Edward’s throat.
“Leave…my…family…alone.”
Edward nodded rapidly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped for air, sputtering and sobbing his penance. Jack carelessly tossed his sword to Jonathan and picked up Edward’s, throwing it as far as he could into the nearby thicket. He then faced Edward again and drew back his arm and…
Looked at Georgiana.
The breath strangled in her throat as a thousand or more emotions ran through her. She took in everything—the triumph in his eyes, the shirt hanging in tatters over his broad shoulders. His face looked bruised, but nothing worse than what she’d seen before. The glimmer of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“You owe my wife an apology.”
As Edward sputtered the words she didn’t care to receive, she broke from Mrs. Leister’s grasp and reached her husband. Before she could kiss him or do anything but cling to him, the patrol appeared. Jonathan shoved Georgiana and Jack toward the woods, where Roberts waited in the darkness with the carriage.
Jack almost threw her inside and slammed the door behind them. Roberts urged the horses in the opposite direction. The last thing Georgiana saw before Jack swiped the curtain closed was Jonathan and Mrs. Leister disappearing into the night, while Edward remained on the ground, surrounded by the authorities.
****
“What the devil are you doing here?” Jack’s lips were cracked and bloody. Chest heaving, he leaned back against the padded wall, sweat dripping from his face and mingling with a hairline scratch across his cheek. She dabbed at the cut with her handkerchief, ignoring the tears sliding down her face. He gently grasped her wrist and pulled her hand down.