Whom she would never love.
And if tonight taught her nothing else, it had taught her that she could love Duncan West. And love would only ever bring ruin.
“Goddammit, Georgiana, I wish you out from under his thumb.”
She, who built an empire on lies, was coming to loathe the lies she was forced to tell to protect it. To protect herself. To protect the Angel.
To protect Caroline.
She shook her head. “I told you, my arrangement with Chase is… different now.”
“And what of our arrangement? Yours and mine?”
Her gaze flickered to the pool. “Our arrangement is different as well.”
“Different how?”
Different in that she had not expected to want him this much. She had not expected to care. “More complicated.”
He laughed, the sound humorless. “Complicated is right.” He walked away from her, and she watched him, unable to tear her gaze from the beauty of him, golden in the firelight, towel slung low over his hips.
Finally, he turned back, threading his fingers through his beautiful hair. “And if I paid for it? Your town house? Your life? Christ, tell me what the hell he has on you. I can fix it. I can make Caroline a darling of Society – I can give you the life you want.”
It was the most tempting offer she’d ever heard. Better than tens of thousands of pounds on the roulette table. Better than a hundred thousand pounds against Temple in the ring. It was perfect. And she wanted nothing in her life more than to take it.
“Let me help you start a fresh life. Without him.”
If she were another woman, a simpler one, she would let him do just that.
If she were merely Lady Georgiana Pearson, she would throw herself into his arms and let him care for her. Let him repair all the damage she’d done. She would take the help he promised and build a new life. As a new person.
Hell, she might even beg him to marry her, in the hopes that his partnership would allow her to live out the rest of their days in the happiness she’d been promised long ago.
But all the promises were fantasies. And she was not that woman.
She was Chase.
And this life, the life she’d built for herself, the choices she’d made, the path she’d taken… they did not lead to him. And she should disabuse both of them from any notion that they did.
She met his gaze. “You can’t give me the title.” He opened his mouth to reply. She stopped him. “The title, Duncan. It’s the title that matters.”
There was a moment when she saw everything in his gaze, all the truth and sadness and frustration that she felt, mirrored in his beautiful eyes. And then it was gone. Replaced with calm reserve.
“Then you are lucky, my lady, that Chase paid his fee. My papers are at your disposal. Your title you shall have.”
She wanted to reach for him. To beg him to make good on their arrangement. She wanted her two weeks. Perhaps two weeks with him would be enough to survive a lifetime without him.
She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What of tonight?”
What of his touch? Of his promises?
What of his control?
It turned out he was in control after all.
“Get dressed,” he said, ending the evening. She was dismissed. He was already turning away. Heading for the door. “Get dressed and get out.”
Chapter 14
… The darling of this year’s season continues to win her peers with honest charm and unimpeachable beauty. The Lady was spotted at Mme. H—’s modiste shop this week, purchasing gowns in proper, pale silk with perfect, high necks. She is modesty incarnate…
… With utter glee, we report that Lord and Lady N— are in town for the Season, an unexpected change for a couple who so rarely leave their house in the country. The lady has been spotted in several storefronts on Bond Street, allegedly purchasing clothing for newborns. Perhaps the winter will deliver Lord N— a long awaited son now that he’s quite full of daughters?
The News of London, May 2, 1833
The next morning, Duncan handed his card to the butler at Tremley House at half-nine, only to be told that the earl was not in.
Unfortunately, the butler at Tremley House had not been alerted that Duncan West was through with aristocrats turning him away.
“The earl is in,” he said.
“I am sorry, sir,” the butler said, attempting to close the door.
Duncan set his boot in the jamb, preventing his dismissal. “Strange, as you do not sound sorry at all.” He set a hand to the door, pushing firmly. “I shall stand here all day. You see, I haven’t a reputation to uphold.”
The butler decided it was better to let Duncan in than to do battle in the doorway, where anyone wandering through Mayfair might see them. He opened the door.
Duncan raised a brow. “Smart man.” The butler opened his mouth, no doubt to assure Duncan that the earl was not, in fact, in. “He’s home and he’ll see me.” Duncan removed his coat and hat and thrust them into the servant’s hands. “Will you fetch him? Or shall I find him myself?”
The servant disappeared, and Duncan waited in the great foyer of Tremley House, feeling not nearly as satisfied as he should.
He should be elated, finally, finally in possession of something that would free him from the yoke of Tremley’s blackmail and threats. Today, finally, West would show his hand and win.
And now, after eighteen years of it, he would be able to stop running. Stop hiding.
He would be able to live a life. Mostly.