Page 72 of The Mistletoe Dare

“I spent half the time in his company wanting to throttle him,” Georgie admitted ruefully. “And the other half—” She blushed, wishing she’d thought about that sentence before she’d begun it.

“I see,” Mama said, one dark eyebrow going up. She reached out and took Georgie’s hand, clasping it. “I understand, you know. It was very much that way between your father and I at first.”

Georgie nodded. “But how do I know, Mama? How do I know if he’s worth taking a chance on? I want what you and Papa have, and even though you have your battles occasionally, there’s never any doubt that Pa adores you and would do anything for you. I’m not looking for perfection, I know that’s foolish, but I think he’s damaged, and the visible scars are not the ones that bother me.”

Her mother sat forward, her expression intent. “Damaged how? How did he get those scars on his face?”

Georgie lowered her voice. “His father went mad from syphilis. He attacked Rochford, Mama. The scars are deep and have healed badly. He was just a little boy. What must that have done to him, to have been treated so cruelly? The old duke died not long after, and from what he’s said of his mother—well, I don’t think he has the slightest idea of what it means to receive love or care, let alone how to give it.”

“The poor man,” Mama said, pity shining in her eyes.

“Yes,” she nodded, feeling her throat tighten with sorrow. “And my heart bleeds for him too, and I want to make it better, to make him better, but people can’t be fixed like a broken wheel. What if I try, and end up married to a man who is distant, and bad tempered?”

“You’ve invited him here?” Mama said thoughtfully.

Georgie nodded.

“Good. In that case, he must survive your father and brothers. If he wants you, he’ll have to prove himself worthy. For your papa will not let you go if he’s not convinced the man is right for you, love. Neither will I, come to that.”

“Yes,” Georgie said, with a sigh, relieved beyond measure that she would have some help in deciding if this man was the one.

“When did you invite him to come, then? It might be best to wait until the spring when—”

Mama paused as the door flew open and her father strode in. He did not look happy.

“Georgie,” he said, his expression fierce. “Why in the name of God is the Duke of Rochford on my doorstep asking to see you?”

Georgie hurried down the corridor, her heart thudding too fast for comfort, very aware of her mother trying to delay her father from following too quickly, their voices receding as she almost ran down the stairs.

There he was. Her breath caught at the sight of him, and she could not deny a little thrill of pleasure at the realisation he must have come directly here.

“Duke,” she said, as he turned and saw her. His expression, which was tense and rigid, no doubt a result of meeting her father for the first time, eased at the sight of her.

“Lady Georgina,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her. “You are well, I hope. Your journey was not too fatiguing.”

Georgie laughed. “No more than yours, I’ll warrant. Considering I arrived only five hours before you did.”

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, his expression grave and holding his hands out in a peaceable gesture. “I took you at your word, it’s true, but I’m not staying and—and I do not mean to repeat any hasty words, so there is no need to be uneasy, I promise. I only wished to inform you of my plans, and to make myself known to your parents. Then I shall continue my journey to Wick. By some stroke of luck I have a small property there I have neglected for too long. I mean to attend to its upkeep, which will oblige me to remain for some time, however.”

“How fortuitous,” Georgie said, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Rochford cleared his throat. “I hoped perhaps we might see each other on occasion, if your parents permit it.”

“I’m sure they will,” Georgie said, wishing that hadn’t sounded so breathless, and wondering at the pleasure she found at seeing him here, in her home, when she had been so very nervous about him coming at all.

“Nonsense,” Mama said, crossing the distance between them and giving an elegant curtsy. “Your grace, we are honoured by your presence at Wildsyde. There is no need for you to travel such a distance and in such unpleasant weather tonight. You must stay with us. We would be glad to have you.”

“Would we?” Pa demanded, folding his arms and giving the duke a suspicious glare. “Why would that be? What’s your business here?”

“Pa,” Georgie muttered, giving him a look that pleaded understanding, but her father was hopeless at charades and even if he had correctly interpreted her expression, he ignored it.

“Well?” her father pressed.

Rochford glanced up the stairs to where three large figures had become visible on the landing. The heavy tread of their feet heading downwards announced the approach of her older brothers. Georgie gave an inward sigh and shot a panicked glance at her mother. Mama just smiled and shook her head.

“What’s the craic, Pa?” asked Hamilton, the youngest of the brothers, as he came to stand beside their father, flanked by Muir and her eldest brother Lyall, Viscount Buchanan.

“I don’t rightly know,” Pa said, frowning at Rochford. “You’ll take a drink with me, Rochford? Perhaps we can clear this up.”