five childr—”
“Stop!” Nicholas practically howled. “My God, I don’t want to hear about that.”
His father chuckled. He chuckled!
“I will think about it,” Nicholas finally said, not bothering to mask the sullen tone of his voice. “But I cannot give you an answer tomorrow.”
“You must.”
“For the love of God, are you listening to me?”
“We don’t have time for me to listen to you. Georgiana’s life is ruined.”
They were talking in circles. It was like they were out on the lawn, treading the same path until the grass was worn down to dirt. But Nicholas was too weary by this point to try to break free of the circuit, so he just asked, “And this is going to change if I take a few days to think about it?”
“If you don’t marry her,” Lord Manston said, “her parents need to find someone who will.”
Which led to a terrible thought. “Have you discussed this with Lord and Lady Bridgerton?”
His father hesitated a moment before saying, “I have not.”
“You would not lie to me about this …”
“You dare to question my honor?”
“Your honor, no. Your judgment, I no longer have any idea.”
His father swallowed uncomfortably. “I would have suggested it, but I did not want to raise their hopes in the event you refused.”
Nicholas eyed him skeptically. “You did not give the impression that refusal was an option.”
“We both know I can’t force you to marry the girl.”
“You’ll just be profoundly disappointed in me if I don’t.”
His father said nothing.
“That’s answer enough, I suppose,” Nicholas muttered. He sank back into a chair, exhausted. What the hell was he going to do?
His father must have realized that he’d had enough, because he cleared his throat a few times, then said, “Why don’t I get your mother?”
“Why?”
Nicholas hadn’t meant to sound quite so truculent, but really, what was his mother going to do?
“She has a way of setting me at ease when I’m troubled. Perhaps she can do the same for you.”
“Fine,” Nicholas grunted. He was too tired to argue any longer.
But before Lord Manston could leave the room, the door opened, and Lady Manston stepped quietly inside. “Is it settled?”
“He’s going to think about it,” her husband replied.
“You did not need to leave the room,” Nicholas said.
“I thought it would be easier if I was not here.”
“It was going to be difficult either way.”
“I suppose that is true.” She laid her hand on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “For what it is worth, I am sorry that you have been put into this position.”
Nicholas gave her the closest thing he could manage to a smile.
She cleared her throat. It was an awkward sound. “I also wanted to inform you that we are having dinner at Aubrey Hall tonight.”
“You have got to be joking,” Nicholas said. Aubrey Hall was the home of the Bridgerton family. He could only assume that all the Bridgertons would be in attendance.
His mother gave him a regretful smile. “I’m afraid not, my son. It has been planned for some time, and I did mention to Lady Bridgerton that you would be home.”
Nicholas groaned. Why would his mother do such a thing?
“She’s terribly eager to hear about your studies. Everyone is. But you’re tired. It’s your choice.”
“So I don’t have to go?”
His mother smiled sweetly. “Everyone will be there.”
“Right,” Nicholas said, in a voice just one shade shy of bitterness. “So really, no choice at all.”
Sounded just like the rest of his life.
Chapter 3
Georgiana Bridgerton had lost many things in her life—a leather-bound notebook she’d been particularly fond of, the key to her sister Billie’s jewelry box, two left shoes—but this was the first time she’d lost her reputation.
It was proving far more difficult to replace than the notebook.
Or the shoes.
She’d taken a hammer to the jewelry box, and while no one had been pleased with the ensuing carnage, Billie’s emerald bracelet had been safely recovered.
And never lent out again, but Georgie deserved no less.
But reputations …
Those were slippery, fickle things, resistant to repair and repatriation, and it didn’t matter if one had absolutely NOTHING TO DO with the aforementioned loss. Society was not kind to females who broke the rules.
It wasn’t kind to females, full stop.
Georgie sent a stare down the length of her bed to her three cats, Judyth, Blanche, and Cat-Head. “It’s not fair,” she said.
Judyth placed one silvery-gray paw on Georgie’s ankle, as sympathetic a gesture as one could expect from the most aloof of the three felines.
“It wasn’t my fault.”
This wasn’t the first time