"About them. About Mr. Drummond."

They were in the front parlor, and the housekeeper was pressing cool cloths to his swollen nose. He waved her away, shoving her out of the room.

"Shut your mouth, Georgina," he snapped once the woman had fled. "I'm weary of your harangue."

"Mr. Roxbury told me to warn you and I said I would."

"I've dealt with your precious Mr. Drummond. Why are you so concerned about him anyway? Don't tell me you're fond of that cretin."

"I'm not. I feel awful about what occurred, and I sense doom approaching at a very fast pace."

"I rid myself of Drummond years ago, and I've simply done it again. I can't figure out why you're in such a dither."

"Why are you acting this way, Miles? The estate isn't yours. You have no right to it, yet you had the legitimate owner arrested and hauled off to jail."

"Yes, and I've already filed papers to get it back. A dangerous felon can't own property."

She threw up her hands. "I keep talking to you in the English language, but you don't understand a word of it."

"I understand just fine. Better than you. No one could retrieve Kirkwood for us. Not Mother. Not you. Not Sophia. Not my hoard of lawyers. Not my worthless acquaintances. I did it, and shortly Kirkwood will be mine again."

"I always thought your mother was the insane member of the family."

"I won't listen to your insults, Georgina. I'm unwell, and it's outrageous that you'd plague me when I've been so maltreated." He rose and started for the door. "Make yourself useful. Isn't that what you're good at? Go up to Mother's room and help her put her things away. She's been horrifically distressed, and she needs to sleep comfortably in her own bed tonight."

With that, he strolled into the hall and called for a footman, demanding to be assisted to his bedchamber, to the master suite he'd once again claimed for himself.

She dawdled, desperate to persuade herself that Miles was correct and she should help Augusta. The house was in an uproar, and she could calm chaos, but she was so anguished.

She was merely an ordinary woman who'd lived in the country her entire life. Yet she'd been pummeled by emotional turmoil and tragedy, and she couldn't move beyond the desolate spot where she was currently located.

She'd fallen in love, been ruined, and been denied by the man of her dreams. She'd lost the job she'd cherished, and had been informed she was being evicted. Her aunt and her cousin had ordered her to disgrace herself with their enemy.

She'd never been welcome at Kirkwood, had never been appreciated or esteemed for any trait. She'd worked and struggled to prove herself valuable and necessary, but she'd been constantly shunned and disrespected.

Of a certainty, Damian would return with Mr. Roxbury and their dodgy friend, and she couldn't be present when they arrived. She didn't care what might happen to Miles, but she had no desire to watch. Nor could she imagine having to cross paths with Damian. The very idea left her nauseous.

She had to leave Kirkwood, but where would she go? How could she find a place where she was liked and accepted? There had to be a place like that in the world.

She forced herself out to the foyer, and she tarried, her misery acute and overwhelming. Miles had suggested she aid Augusta, but she couldn't abide the notion.

As she stood like a statue, Portia appeared on the landing. She stared down at Georgina with a look of disgust and disdain, and Georgina could have burst into tears. Could one more person be awful to her? Would the dreadful day never end?

"Georgina, there you are," Portia said. "Your aunt and I have been searching for you."

"Why? What do you need?"

"Please come upstairs. We'll discuss it in Augusta's suite."

Georgina sighed. She couldn't bear to chat with Augusta and Portia. No matter what the topic, she'd be blamed for whatever was vexing them.

"I'll be up in a minute."

"Would you attend us now? I'm afraid this can't wait."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

What do you need, Augusta?"

"Sit down, Georgina."

They were in Augusta's bedroom suite, the servants having quickly carried her clothes back from their awkward sojourn to Drummond Cottage. The space looked as if she'd never left it, as if the prior turmoil hadn't actually happened.

Augusta had arranged for the encounter. Two chairs were side by side in front of the fireplace, and she and Portia were seated in them. They'd put a chair across from them for Georgina so she was about to be scolded for an infraction.

She'd endured many such meetings in her life, but she was irked to have Portia observing as she was reprimanded. Portia wasn't yet officially part of the family, and Georgina was in no mood to be lectured by her.

"What have I done? From your dour expressions, it must be horrid."

Portia started the conversation, which raised Georgina's hackles.

"Miles and I have decided to wed immediately."

Georgina smiled a tepid smile. "Have you?"

"We've delayed in the past, but we've seen the risk presented by our postponing the inevitable. We've sent to London for a Special License."

"Congratulations." Georgina wasn't sincere, but it was the required response.

"We'll hold the ceremony tomorrow."

"Are you sure you should?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I have no doubt Mr. Roxbury will find Mr. Drummond and bring him back. You're not as deranged as Miles, Portia. You have to know he'll reclaim what is his."

Augusta sniffed with offense. "You were always such a disloyal child."

The barb hurt, but Georgina was used to being denigrated. "I'm merely stating the facts. I don't understand why you and Miles are having such a difficult time accepting reality. Mr. Drummond will return, and once he does Miles is in danger."

"Don't be ridiculous," Augusta huffed. "Men might solve their problems in a violent manner in the land where Mr. Drummond has been living, but this is England. A lowborn criminal of his type wouldn't dare harm a gentleman of Miles's status."

"I'm just the messenger, Augusta," Georgina said. "I'm trying to get you to recognize Miles's jeopardy."

"Be silent, Georgina. You exhaust me with your negative opinions."

"Fine, I'm happy to be silent."

Portia went on. "As I was saying, we intend to hold the ceremony tomorrow. After all the upheaval, we have to exhibit a show of unity to the tenants and staff. Matters must revert to normal."

How would that be possible? Even if Mr. Drummond never returned, he must have drafted a Will so his heirs would appear in his stead. His executor was probably Mr. Roxbury and-with the help of the dark-haired stranger who'd been with him earlier-he would easily take over.

She was fed up with everyone, and there must have been a devilish imp perched on her shoulder and urging her to cause trouble. "I'm really curious about a pesky detail, Portia."

"What is it?"

"Aunt Augusta told me Mr. Drummond had proposed to you and that-while Miles was away-you were considering whether you should cry off from your betrothal."

Portia's eyes sparked with malice. "I wasn't considering it. Mr. Drummond offered, but I emphatically refused him."

"Well then, good for you." Georgina oozed sarcasm. "I'm glad to hear you're so devoted to Miles."

Portia got in her own dig. "Augusta tells me you were quite smitten by Mr. Drummond yourself. When he was such an enemy of the family it's odd that you'd be cozy with him. You're not in any position to talk about loyalty or dedication."

Portia looked so angry she might have jumped up and slapped Georgina, but Augusta intervened. "There's an important issue that must be resolved before Portia makes Kirkwood her home."

"What is it?" Georgina asked. "And please be brief. Today's events have fatigued me beyond measure, and I'd like to lie down and rest."

"We're all tired," Portia said. "You're not the only one who suffered. We all did so don't be a martyr."

Georgina yearned to rudely retort, but what was the point of bickering? She whipped her attention to Augusta. "What is your issue, Aunt Augusta? By all means, let's deal with it so I can go."

"As Portia mentioned, you were extremely close to Mr. Drummond."

Georgina frowned at her aunt, wondering how to reply. With Portia glaring, she couldn't have a frank chat with Augusta about what had occurred.

"I felt it was vital to befriend him," Georgina carefully stated. "I thought it might smooth over the discord."

"You went a bit farther than befriending him though," Augusta said.

"I did what you and Miles asked of me," Georgina quietly reminded her.

Portia bristled. "You're blaming Augusta and Miles?"

Georgina gaped at Portia, curious as to where they were headed.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me, Portia?" she inquired.

Portia opened her mouth to respond, but Augusta laid a hand on her wrist, stopping any comment.

"Portia and I have discussed your affair," Augusta announced like a threat.

Georgina had never been more wounded by her aunt. Her liaison with Mr. Drummond had been thrilling but reckless. She'd pursued it because she'd believed he was fond of her, because she'd believed herself to be in love. It had all been a fantasy, but it didn't change the fact that she'd proceeded with pure motives.

Yes, she'd sinned, but she'd been in love. It was the sole ethical lapse she'd ever committed. Couldn't she be forgiven?

Georgina was crushed. "You discussed me with Portia?"

"Yes, you-and Mr. Drummond."

Portia chimed in with, "I'll be mistress of Kirkwood as of tomorrow at noon. It was only appropriate that I be apprised."

"Hush, Portia," Augusta chided. "I'll handle this."

"Handle what, Augusta?" Georgina said.

"You'll have to leave Kirkwood."

"I have to leave?"

"Yes."

"Who decided this? You or Portia?"

"We talked about it, but I made the decision."

"I've lived here most of my life," Georgina said. "My mother was a Marshall. You're not, Augusta, but my mother was. She had Marshall blood in her veins, but you don't. Why should I have to leave? You leave."

Portia muttered to Augusta, "I told you she'd be difficult."

Georgina rounded on Portia, rising from her chair and pointing to the door. "Get out of here, Portia."

"I will not."

"I'm having a private conversation with my aunt," Georgina seethed. "The topic is none of your business. Now get out."

Portia didn't move, and Georgina had never been more furious. She'd assumed Mr. Drummond was the only one who could goad her to such elevated levels of rage, but apparently she'd been holding in an enormous amount of wrath for twenty-five years. It was begging to be vented.

She grabbed Portia by the arm and yanked her to her feet. At being manhandled, Portia was so stunned that Georgina was able to drag her over and push her into the hall without Portia fighting back. She slammed the door and spun the key in the lock.

Portia swiftly recovered, and she pounded on the wood, demanding to be readmitted. Georgina scowled at Augusta, and ultimately Augusta called to Portia, "I'll confer with Georgina alone, Portia. Go down to the front parlor. I'll join you in a few minutes."

"Don't you dare relent," Portia fumed.

"I won't," Augusta said.

Portia's footsteps faded away, then Georgina returned to her chair. Her irate glower never left her aunt, and for once Augusta actually looked abashed. But then in the past, Georgina had always strove to be kind, meek, and pleasant. Augusta had never seen her bully anyone, and all in all Georgina felt quite grand.

The whole world had better watch out! There was no predicting what she might do next.