Page 21 of Counting on Love

“I fear it is partly my fault,” he went on, as if a dam had broken. “The boy has had his hands in my pockets for so long he thinks the coat is his. And his cronies trust that I will bail him out because I always have. It isn’t that I can’t afford to, it’s that I shouldn’t. So my mother has been telling me for years.”

“And you think if he were to marry Alice, it would reform him?”

“He? Bertram? Oh!” He chuckled. “No. I wash my hands of him. I gave him the money but told him no more. Then two days later, he showed up at my home and—” He stopped. His face grew pale, and he began to blink rapidly.

“And?”

“Nothing. I forget you are a mere child and innocent. What a horrible person I am.”

“You are not. What did he do? You may as well finish your sentence, or I am likely to imagine even worse.”

“It isn’t that terrible,” he muttered. “He merely insulted a good friend of mine is all. But loosely thrown insults can be dangerous. And Bertram is not entitled to my title and fortune if he is going to abuse it. Which it seems he will.” Shaking his head, he finished, “If I want a decent heir, it appears I will have to make one.”

“With Alice?”

“No. Oh, bedevil it, I don’t know. She laughs at my jokes. I like her. She’s a sweet thing. And I don’t think a title would hurt her.”

Georgiana was speechless. She had thought…well, she didn’t know precisely what she’d thought, but it included Hazard never marrying.

“The thing is,” he mused, “I would not be a bad husband. Just not a good one. I’m not too old for children and wouldn’t mind a few underfoot.” He lowered his voice and said, reddening for real, “But I would not be faithful, you see.” He lifted his chin and met her astonished, embarrassed gaze. “I would not demand it of her, either, once the heir was born, but I would want him to be mine. Silly, that, but I would. And I would give my name to any others.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Damn it. Yes. I will. You are absolutely right.”

“Alice would not…well, she just wouldn’t.”

“All right. Thank you. I figured you would give an honest answer. Otherwise…”

“Yes. No. I understand. I mean, please stop talking.”

They sat in miserable silence. She ached, and ached for him. But Alice deserved more. And Hazard deserved more.

“Maybe a widow?” she suggested tentatively. “One young enough for children?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can find someone,” he said mournfully. Then he shrugged. “Difficult though.”

She nodded. “Makes my difficulties appear minuscule.”

“Hmm.” He drummed his fingers on his knee. “My dear, your difficulties are minuscule.”

“I’m sure I’d agree if I knew what they were.”

It might be wrong to draw attention back to herself, but they were both too unsettled by his disclosures to continue discussing them. And switching to mindless banter seemed worse.

He snickered. “No one will tell you, eh?”

“Mama says not to pay any attention. But I can’t ignore what I am ignorant of.”

He glanced at the door, then back to her, before stage-whispering with mock seriousness, “Of course, you are aware there is an understanding between you and Lord Taverston.”

“I should think I would know if there were.”

“Well, I have heard three different versions, but they are close enough and all boil down to the same. Your fathers, or perhaps mothers, are closer friends than is commonly realized. It occurred to two of them, or all four, that a betrothal would suit everyone.”

“A betrothal?”

“Oh, yes. You have been betrothed for years. Congratulations, by the way.”