Page 43 of The Duke’s Hidden Duchess

She held it out. Her hand did not tremble.

“He was at the dinner,” Selina said. “He made the same threat to me and demanded eleven hundred pounds for the letters.”

“Did he?” Georgiana’s voice was flat and attentive, as though she were enquiring after the price of coal. “Then he intended for both of us to receive the threat before the night ended. He arranged it very carefully.”

Nathaniel took the paper and read it standing with his back towards them, illuminated by the single candle.

“He is growing impatient,” Georgiana said. “There is no pretence of persuasion left in it. He has begun to write as though I have only to be told where and when.”

Chapter Twelve

Georgiana sat in the window seat of the music room, her knees drawn up in a manner no governess had ever managed to cure. She had been crying for some time. Thursday had passed without her going to Rowland, and now only the night stood between her and the day upon which he had threatened to publish her letters.

The house had been waiting since noon. Twice Selina had gone to the window at the sound of wheels in the square and returned without remark. Nobody had spoken Rowland’s name since breakfast.

Georgiana heard her brother in the doorway and did not turn.

“You need not sit down, Nathaniel. I know that face. It is the one you wear before telling me something is for my own good, and I have not the strength for my own good tonight.”

Nathaniel crossed the room and sat beside her.

She looked at him then, startled despite herself. He had always stood when delivering unwelcome truths, as though authority required the advantage of height.

“I am poor at comfort,” he said.

“Yes.” Georgiana wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand. “You are.”

“But I am here.”

The answer appeared to disarm her. The strain in her face loosened, though the tears continued.

“That is better,” she said after a moment. “I did not know it would be.”

Nathaniel looked down at his hands. “Neither did I.”

She leant against him cautiously, as though expecting him to correct the impropriety of the posture. When he did not, she rested her head upon his shoulder.

“They will appear tomorrow,” she said into his coat. “Everyone will read them, and whatever follows will touch you and Selina as well. I wrote them. Nobody compelled me.”

“I cannot promise that they will not appear.” Nathaniel felt her stiffen and continued before instinct could tempt him into a certainty he did not possess. “I can promise that you will not face what follows alone. Selina and I are doing everything within our power, and there are others working quietly on our behalf. Rowland must contend with all of us now.”

“That does not sound like very much when tomorrow is Friday.”

“No,” he admitted. “But it is the truth, and it is what I have to give you.”

Georgiana was silent for a while. A carriage passed on the far side of the square without stopping.

“I should have listened to her.”

“Yes.”

“And to you.”

Nathaniel considered that. “Occasionally.”

A wet, unwilling laugh escaped her.

He remained beside her while she cried, resisting every impulse to explain, correct or promise. Over her bowed head, he saw Selina standing in the doorway.