She looked to the servant. “I shall receive the viscount here.”
The butler was disgruntled, but left silently. She returned her attention to Langley. “My lord,” she said, dropping a little curtsy.
He watched, fascinated. “You know,” he said, “I’ve never seen a woman curtsy in trousers. It looks somewhat ridiculous.”
She ran her palms over her thighs, and offered him a little smile. “They are more comfortable. I was not expecting…”
“If I may suggest.” He raised the newspaper in his hand. “You should expect. You are the talk of the ton. I imagine I am the first of many callers.”
She met his eyes. “I am not certain I wish to be anything to the ton.”
“You are too late. We have, of course, claimed you for our own after two weeks of utter adoration in our news.”
She paused. Then, “Huzzah? I suppose?”
“Huzzah indeed.” He laughed. “We have never stood on ceremony.”
She shook her head. “No, my lord.”
He smiled. Leaned in. “Then, as that is true and you are wearing breeches, I think we can dispense with the formalities.”
She smiled. “I would like that.”
“I came to ask you to marry me.”
Her face fell. She didn’t mean it to, but she couldn’t help herself. It was, of course, what she had wanted from the beginning. He’d been carefully selected for his perfect balance of need and propriety.
But she suddenly wanted much, much more than those things in a marriage. She wanted partnership and trust and commitment. And love.
And desire.
She wanted Duncan.
“I see that you are not elated,” the viscount said.
“It’s not that,” she said, tears welling again before she could stop them.
She dashed them away. What in hell had happened to her in the last forty-eight hours?
He smiled. “Ah, well, I was told that some women cry at their proposals. But usually that is out of happiness, isn’t it? As I am neither a woman nor an expert in marriage proposals…” He trailed off.
She laughed at that, brushing away her tears. “I assure you, my lord, I am not an expert in marriage proposals, either. Which is why we are in this mess to begin with, remember.”
They stood in silence for a long moment before he spread his arms to indicate the marble floor. “Shall I get down on one knee, then?”
She shook her head. “Oh, I wish you wouldn’t.” She paused. “I am sorry. I am making a hash out of this.”
“You know, I don’t think you are,” he said, softly, coming toward her. “I think you simply don’t care for mine to be the marriage proposal you receive today.”
“That’s not true,” she lied, imagining him another taller, blonder, more perfect man.
“I think it is. In fact, I think you wish I were another man. Entirely different. Untitled. Brilliant.” Her gaze snapped to his. How did he know? He rocked back on his heels. “What I cannot understand is why you would settle for me when you could have him.”
She knew what to say to that. She was making a hash out of it. Indeed. “Marrying you would not be ‘settling,’ my lord.”
He smiled. “Of course it would be. I am not Duncan West.”
Lying or feigning ignorance would not do. Not for this man who deserved her respect. “How did you know?”
“We are members of the same club. He came to me. Told me to marry you.” She looked away, but could not have stopped listening if she tried. “Lauded me with your qualities. Promised me I would be supremely lucky to have you. And I was convinced. After all, we both know that our marriage would be for convenience. Better marriages have been forged on less.” She returned her attention to him. “And then the strangest thing happened.”
“What was that?” she said, hanging on his words, wanting desperately to hear them.
“I saw how much you loved him.”
Warning flared. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He smiled. “Do not worry. We all have secrets. And considering who you are when you are not here wearing trousers, you know mine well.”
There was a time when she would have used them. When she would have threatened him and manipulated him until she got what she wanted. But Chase was no longer so ruthless. Indeed, now, Georgiana simply ached for him when he added, “And I know the particular sadness of knowing, in your heart, that you will never have what you most desperately want.”
The tears came again.
“What do you want, my lady?” he asked.
“It is not important,” she replied, the words barely a whisper.
“That is the bit I do not understand,” he said. “Why do you deny yourself happiness?”
“It is not explicit,” she said, trying to explain. “I do not deny myself. I simply do what must be done to ensure that my daughter is never denied it. To give her the opportunity to have whatever she wants.”
Understanding dawned on Langley’s perfect face, but before he could reply, someone else did. “Then why not ask me what it is I want?”
Georgiana spun around to face Caroline, standing in the doorway to the dining room, all seriousness. “Go on,” her daughter said, “ask me.”
She began, “Caroline…”
The girl stepped out of the room, toward her. “My whole life, you have made decisions for me.”