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Chapter Twenty-Nine

Rafferty was sprawled in a chair by the fire in the great kitchen, a glass of brandy in his hand.

He’d been drinking too much for the last few weeks, and it was not improving his dark mood.

He should be a happy man—all his troubles were over.

Billy Stiles was dead and his men weren’t interested in revenge.

He’d walked away from his temporary madness of working as a butler, and he’d left Georgie behind to fall in love with someone suitable.

He’d even been insane enough to give up Belding’s cache to the impoverished Mannings.

Not that he’d needed it, but could one ever be too rich?

He was back at the sprawling farm that had been his home away from London for the last five years, the place of peace and tranquility. He’d had enough of London to last a lifetime, and it would take a great deal to lure him back there.

Maybe he’d go back when Georgie got married, just to see that she looked happy and in love. Enough to close that chapter in his life.

Because he still wanted her. He’d been so sure that once he’d gotten away from her, he’d forget all about her, but she lingered in his dreams, in his waking moments, when he least expected her she came and whispered in his ear, and only the brandy would silence her.

And the brandy didn’t help his none-too-charming temper.

The door opened and Jenkins came in, carrying an armful of firewood. “You’ll be needing to get a boy for this kind of work,” he intoned. “It’s beneath my dignity as your valet.”

“I thought you were my butler,” Rafferty drawled.

“Not much call for a butler in a farmhouse.”

‘Not much call for a valet for a farmer.”

“Are you dismissing me, Rafferty?” Jenkins demanded haughtily.

“Not if you bring in more wood. It’s going to be a cold night.”

Jenkins sighed, dumping the wood by the fireplace. “You’ve been in a right foul mood since you got here,” he pointed out. “Don’t you think you ought to do something about it?”

“About what?”

“About the lady. You’ve been like a moonling, wandering around the place like a bear with a sore paw. Why don’t you go back for her?”

“You said it yourself, she’s a lady,” Rafferty growled.

“She doesn’t care.”

“She would, sooner or later.”

Jenkins made a disgusted noise and went back out the kitchen door, slamming it behind him, and Rafferty cursed. Everyone was disgusted with him, almost as much as he was himself. He had to get over the deadly case of the doldrums before all the people who worked for him quit.

He reached for his glass of brandy, then shoved it away. His temper was none too sweet already, and the brandy only made it worse. He was happy, dammit. Everything had gone his way, and he was finally free to continue his peaceful country life.

Maybe he needed a woman, but he couldn’t think of any that appealed to him apart from a certain long-legged, golden-haired, child-woman that he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Maybe he’d become a goddamn monk. He heard the sound of the carriage through the thick stone walls of the farmhouse, but he didn’t stir from his place.

Jenkins would get rid of whoever it was, leaving him in peace.

He closed his eyes and then opened them again as the heavy door was thrust open, and the woman he loved, his earthly nemesis, burst into the room.

“Rafferty!” she cried. “I thought we’d never find you. Martina isn’t the best person at giving directions, and then your grandmother grew peckish, and we’re here much later than we thought we would be.”

She set the large basket she was carrying down on the table and began to unpack it.

“I wasn’t sure what food you might have, but I brought eggs and Bertha made you a loaf of bread, but I saw you have chickens and I’m so glad!

I adore chickens. The coachman is bringing in the rest of the supplies and?—”

“Did you say my grandmother?” He broke through her spate of words. She was nervous—she always talked too much when she was nervous.

“Mr. Jenkins is bringing her in. She is very cross with you for just taking off, and why didn’t you tell me you were the grandson of a duke? Doesn’t that make you an honorable or something?”

“Honorable is the last word to reply to me,” he said, dourly, rising from his seat, just as his grandmother’s tiny figure appeared, accompanied by Jenkins, two footmen bearing firewood and baskets, presumably of food, and a tall, thin stranger took up the tail of the procession.

“There you are, Jamie,” the dowager duchess greeted her errant grandson “You’ve been remarkably hard to find.”

Georgie was busy unpacking the baskets and boxes until the table was laden with food. “Do you have a cook?” she asked brightly. “Bertha has been teaching me, but I still have a lot to learn, though I expect I can manage something for dinner.”

Rafferty ignored her, focusing on the stranger. “And who the hell are you?” he demanded.

The man look like he’d been bitten by a snake. “I am the Reverend Oswald Pettiforce and I would remind you to watch your language. There are ladies present.”

“Oh, we’re used to it,” Georgie said cheerfully.

“What are you doing here?” Rafferty demanded.

“He’s here to marry us, of course,” Georgie said.

If he didn’t know her so well, he wouldn’t have seen the traces of anxiety in her beautiful blue eyes, and part of him melted at the sight. He steeled himself. “No,” he said flatly.

“We’ve got a special license,” she said.

“I don’t care.”

She looked as if she’d been slapped in the face, and she set down the ham she’d been holding. “All right,” she said, and she walked out the door into the cold night air.

“You idiot,” his grandmother said, as the heavy door closed behind Georgie. “That girl is worth ten of you.”

“I know it. That’s why I’m not going to marry her.”

“So now you’re noble and self-sacrificing. She doesn’t want a good man, an honorable man. She wants you.”

Picking up his glass of brandy, he flung it against the fireplace. The dowager duchess didn’t even blink.

“Don’t you understand,” he said, in a tight, angry voice. “I’d destroy her. She’ll be trapped out in the country, shunned by the ton and possibly her entire family. I can’t ask her to do that. Better to break her heart now and get it over with.”

“And what about you? I know you’re in love with the girl—it’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

“I’ll survive,” he said grimly. “The best thing I could do for her is to let her go, no matter what I might feel.”

“Idiot,” his grandmother said again.

“If I love her, and I’m not admitting it, then I wouldn’t want to bring her down to my level.”

“If you love her, you’ll go after her and never let her go.”

He stood there, staring at her, his breath coming unevenly.

“Excuse me, but is there going to be a wedding?” The Reverend Pettiforce demanded in a fretful voice. “If not, I’d like to return to my home.”

The dowager duchess turned to look at her grandson. “Well, Jamie? Are you going down in history as the first saintly Ormond? Or are you going to take what you want?

She tried everything, Georgie thought. Thrown herself at his feet, even brought his grandmother along with her for extra ammunition, though, since the carriage belonged to the duchess, it was more accurate to say she’d been brought along.

All for nothing. She’d been wrong all this time, he didn’t love her.…

The door to the carriage was yanked open, and Rafferty stood there, a thunderous expression on his face.

“What are you doing in here?” he demanded.

“You… You said you didn’t want me.”

“I said I wasn’t going to marry you,” he corrected.

A sudden light filled her eyes. “You mean I can be your mistress? Oh, that would be perfectly fine. I’d enjoy being a fallen woman.”

“You’re not going to be my mistress,” he said, his voice grumpy. “I’ve changed my mind. Assuming I even have a mind left after dealing with a hoyden like you.”

She eyed him warily. “Changed your mind about what?”

He looked absolutely furious, never a good sign, but hope was stirring within her. “Remember when you told me that true love meant letting someone go?” he said.

“Yes,” she said uncertainly.

“Then I guess I don’t love you enough, because there is no way in hell I’m letting you get away from me ever again. That unpleasant man will marry us with my grandmother and Jenkins as witnesses, and you’ll have to live with the consequences. I need you, Georgie. I can’t let you go.”

Her smile was dazzling enough to light the universe. “Really? Truly?”

“I’m in love with you, Georgie. And I’m tired of being noble.”

“I would think so. You’re a bad man, or so you told me. Do the bad thing and marry me.” And she jumped from the high carriage into his arms.

He caught her, holding her tight. “No one will accept it if you marry your butler,” he warned her. “We’ll be outcasts.”

“I know,” she said cheerfully.

“I’ll ruin you.”

“Yes, please,” she said, and she kissed him.