Page 9 of The Marquess and the Earl (The Unlikely Betrothal #3)

Chapter 9

N ate didn’t understand why George refused to look at him. At first, he thought he was imagining it, or that perhaps George just remained cautious after what had occurred. He hoped he wasn’t angry at him for departing with the others on the village trip. He spent the entire time missing George and wondering what he did to entertain himself while most of the guests were gone.

By the time they had finished with dinner, George hadn’t looked at him even once. And not from a lack of trying on Nate’s part.

Once everyone returned from the village trip earlier that day, they had all gathered in the salon. Nate hoped to join in the same conversation George had found himself in, but he was speaking with a group of gentlemen. Once Lady Lily had returned from a walk out to the terrace, George joined her and then never left her side.

Nate hadn’t been able to tell him what he witnessed at breakfast and that he was almost positive the lady might have an interest in another man. George should leave her be and give her the chance to see if she might find a love match with Callan. And from everything Nate knew of the man, Callan was an upstanding gentleman.

Nate didn’t want to interrupt a conversation with just the two of them without a good reason, so he chatted with other guests and waited for his opportunity.

Once tea was served, George settled on a settee with the lady. Afterward, he appeared to invite her for a walk in the gardens, since they disappeared for a while. Nate wasn’t jealous exactly. He didn’t believe that anything untoward would occur. It wasn’t that. He just wished George might have at least acknowledged him somehow. Even just a quick smile or a passing glance. Something that told him all was well between them.

Was George mad at him for the incident with his valet? That was certainly possible, but he would hope that George knew he didn’t intend for that to occur. And based on their interactions that day, he doubted anyone would think anything about it, even if his valet were to share the story .

Having had enough of trying to get George’s attention, Nate thought of how to get him alone. He had to find a way to speak with him, even if only for a few moments.

Once everyone joined together in the salon after dinner, their hosts suggested a game of charades, which was the last thing Nate wished to do.

He couldn’t concentrate on anything but George. Something was wrong. He knew in his heart that something was amiss. Something had changed between George and him, and he needed to know what it was.

The rest of the guests partook in the game, while Nate clenched his jaw and stared at George more often than he should have. George wasn’t actively playing either, but Nate noticed that the man did a better job pretending than he had. In his mind, he pleaded for and willed George to look at him, even just once. If anyone were watching Nate, they would be sure to question why he kept staring at the earl. Not that he gave a fuck at that moment. The tiny bit of control he had to keep from shouting across the room to get George’s attention was slipping through his fingers.

The game of charades ended, and George excused himself. Nate did the same, slipping out the other exit and moving as quickly as he could without drawing attention as he raced to catch up with George. He saw him ahead of him, almost to the stairs. Thankfully, there was no one else in sight. “George,” he called out in a loud whisper.

George stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel to face him. Nate wasn’t sure what he saw in his expression when George finally looked at him. Sadness, perhaps.

“We must speak,” Nate said.

George looked around. “Not here.”

“No, of course not. Will you knock on the wall when your valet has left?”

“Yes.” George turned to walk away.

“George,” Nate whispered again.

“Have a good evening, Lord Demming,” George replied, glancing behind him and then turning on his heel and starting up the staircase.

The formality sounding from George’s tongue almost made him cringe. He heard voices approaching from the hallway and understood why George would address him as such, but it felt far too formal after all they had shared. And all they meant to each other. Something about the tone in his voice gnawed at Nate, and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He forced himself to slowly climb the stairs and not chase after George. He would speak to him soon, and then all would be well.

Nate had dressed for bed, which meant he was naked besides covering himself with his banyan, and paced every inch of his chamber. He made himself turn and walk the same route in the alternate direction, if only to make his pacing feel somewhat different. After what felt like an eternity, a knock sounded on the wall. With no care about how foolish he looked, he took off running to the door, almost crashing into it while he worked the log and opened it into George’s room.

“Love,” Nate started, “I’m so sorry about earlier. I should have thought. I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

George interrupted him, laughing. It wasn’t a laugh that indicated he found what Nate had said funny, as there was a hard edge to it. Nate assessed him and noted he was wearing breeches with his banyan over them. Not exactly odd, but not what he expected, either.

“Nothing to worry about?” George stood from where he sat on the settee and waved his hand towards Nate. “You believe we have nothing to worry about? You don’t think that continuing this”—he gestured between them—“will give us cause to have anything to worry about? Are you that dense?”

Nate flinched as if George had struck him, and at the way his entire body pained, he might as well have. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Because one of us has to. There isn’t a future here and you know it.”

Tears formed at the corners of Nate’s eyes, and he urged himself to remain calm. “You don’t mean that. We can figure it out.”

“There is nothing to figure out. This is done. We are done.”

“But we love each other, George. You can’t ignore that.”

George’s jaw set and clenched, and he fisted his hands at his sides. “Are you willing to die for our love? Because that is the price.”

Nate lost his battle, and the tears fell down his cheeks. He rushed to George and gripped his shoulders, forcing him to look at him. “Yes, dammit. Don’t you see that? I would risk my life to love you.”

George wrenched himself out of Nate’s grasp. “And that’s why we are done. I won’t watch you hang. It’s not romantic. It’s foolish.” George stepped behind the settee, putting a physical barrier between them. “I am going to marry Lady Lily. ”

Stepping behind the nearby chair, Nate needed something to steady himself. He wiped his face and allowed a few moments of silence to hang between them, while his mind raced through all the many things he’d like to say.

“You can’t marry her,” Nate finally said, the words barely above a whisper.

“You have no say in the matter. Marriage is what is expected of us.”

Nate drew a long breath. “Are you going to be honest with her and tell her what kind of marriage she would have?”

“She will have the marriage many women of the ton desire. She will be provided for in a manner expected for a countess, and she can live her life as she wishes.”

Nate fisted his hands, fighting to keep from throwing the chair before him across the room. “She may have an interest in Viscount Callan. Lady Lily deserves the truth. If she wants a marriage of love, she deserves that choice.”

“That is more foolish nonsense, Lord Demming. Are you not paying attention? Titles and rules dictate our lives, not love.”

“George,” Nate ground out, but George raised his hand to stop him.

“Her father wants the match. I’m an earl and outrank Callan. The man will accept my suit for that reason alone. That’s the way it’s done. The sooner you select your wife and accept that fact, the sooner we will forget all about whatever this was.”

Unable to control himself any longer, Nate rushed closer to George, causing him to back up against the wall where Nate pinned him and clasped his cheeks in his hands. “I love you, George.” The tears steadily flowed down Nate’s cheeks. If George would just look at him, he’d remember what they shared and that he didn’t mean what he had said. He knew George loved him. He had to.

George looked for a moment as if he might change his mind on everything he said, and Nate allowed the hope to ease his aching heart. But only for a moment. Then George’s expression hardened, and he pushed Nate back. “Yet the outcome is the same. Please depart from my chamber, Lord Demming.”

Nate wanted to stay. He longed to hold him in his arms, kiss him and make George realize he was a fool for tossing away something as precious as what they shared for the benefit of the society. The members of that same society could be the ones to hang for all Nate cared. He’d move to the Americas or somewhere on the continent if that was what it took to be with George.

Fuck their titles and the rules that were forced upon them. But if George didn’t believe in their love enough to fight for them and had already hardened towards him, he was fighting a losing battle. Could Nate love enough for both of them?

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the voice of George’s father had doused the fire that George might have once burned for Nate.

“Is this because of your father?” Nate asked. He knew it was. He knew from all they had shared that George still worried about what the man might think, even though he was dead and gone.

George’s expression turned angry. “This is because it’s the reality we live in. My father just happened to be right.”

Nate shook his head and walked away to the open door between their chambers. He looked back at George, who had his back to him.

“I hope your father might finally be proud of you, Lord Knox.”

Nate closed the door and locked it, not waiting to see if George would respond. He regretted the words right after he said them, knowing he only said them to hurt him. But if George wished to live for the expectations of a dead man, he was the foolish one.

Lying across his bed, Nate didn’t even bother to remove his banyan. He grabbed a pillow and hugged it to himself. He fought the tears as long as he could, but his heart shattering into tiny pieces inside his chest became more than he could bear. Staring at the wall, he allowed a few tears to escape.

He had loved and lost twice, and he didn’t think he had it in him to take that chance ever again.