Georgina stared at Sophia and sighed with a sort of resigned aggravation.

She was back at Kirkwood, the one spot in the kingdom she swore she'd never see again. She'd expected to find Damian Drummond strutting about the property with his typical swagger, but apparently-after he'd stopped by the tavern in Whitfield a few months earlier-he hadn't returned.

"He said he'd make sure you were apprised of his location," she groused.

"Yes, and I'm surprised he'd upset Kit like this. Kit's a worrier and he's always fretting about Mr. Drummond."

"You don't suppose Miles's men accosted him again."

"According to Kit, there's no chance of that happening."

"Why not? Have you ever discovered what became of Miles?"

"No, and it's likely a secret Kit will never share with me." Sophia laughed wanly. "Actually I'm in no hurry to learn Miles's fate. It's more curiosity than anything. It's lovely to realize he'll never be around to cause more trouble."

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know."

Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, Georgina sighed again. "I don't understand why Mr. Drummond went after this property so vigorously, but now that he owns it he couldn't care less."

Sophia shrugged. "He trusts Kit to watch over it for him."

"I told him he should give it to the two of you. He doesn't really want it."

"What did he say?"

"I don't recall. During our conversation, I was a tad disconcerted."

Grimly she wondered why Fate was so cruel. From the day of her father's death, she'd suffered naught but adversity, her latest problem being the very worst yet.

Her cousin, John, had been the one to identify her condition, and it was odd that a bachelor would notice. Georgina was so clueless as to the workings of the human body that she hadn't guessed what was wrong. She'd been aware that a babe could catch from fornication, but she'd been so fatigued by her departure from Kirkwood that she hadn't recognized what was occurring.

After John had sat her down and pointed out the obvious, she'd nearly fainted with shock and shame. A quick trip to the local midwife had confirmed his suspicions. Georgina was increasing, and since she'd only ever trifled with one man-one time, no less!-there was no question as to the identity of the father.

She'd stewed over what her course of action should be, but there was only one path. She couldn't stay in Whitfield where her presence would create a scandal for her cousin who'd been kindness personified.

Ultimately she'd decided she had to travel to Kirkwood and speak with Mr. Drummond. And she had to admit she was intrigued as to what his opinion would be.

When he'd chased her down in Whitfield, he'd been absurdly repentant, had claimed he was eager to wed her, and she still couldn't figure out why he'd suggested such a ridiculous attachment.

He didn't want to marry her, and she didn't want to marry him either. Nothing had changed on her end. She would never forgive him for how he'd treated her, for how he'd broken her heart.

But a woman couldn't march around with a babe in her belly and no ring on her finger so she was in a definite pickle. She had to devise a solution, but when she was vehemently opposed to having him as her husband there weren't many options.

Sophia had welcomed her home with open arms, and they'd been dickering over alternatives. Sophia was adamant that there was only one viable conclusion, that being a hasty wedding. Yet Sophia had just married Kit and was plagued by a newlywed's obsession with matrimony. She felt everyone should leap into wedded bliss, but Georgina couldn't imagine how marriage to Damian Drummond could supply bliss to any wife.

She'd thought a better plan might be to insist he provide an allowance to her, then she'd slink off to a town where she was a stranger and could start over. She would pretend to be a widow, that her spouse had been a soldier killed in the army.

Women made those sorts of choices all the time, and while people speculated, they usually left the poor mother alone with her lies and reduced existence.

The other possibility was to find some hapless bachelor who'd marry her right away, but they weren't acquainted with any man who might, and she simply wouldn't proceed on a false premise. She'd have to tell any prospective candidate about her dishonorable situation, and what husband would begin his wedded life in such a mess?

But all their plotting and discussion had been futile. Damian Drummond hadn't returned to Kirkwood, and for all they knew he might be halfway to China. She deemed it to be completely typical that she'd seek him out-after swearing she never would-merely to discover he couldn't be located.

"I wish he would give us Kirkwood," Sophia said. "Not for myself, but for Kit. He'd be so proud to own it, and after all he endured as a boy I'd like him to have a bit of good luck."

"So would I," Georgina agreed. "I'd like someone to have good luck. I only have the bad."

"Don't fret. We'll solve this dilemma."

"How will we? Very soon, I won't be able to hide my condition so I can't dawdle at Kirkwood."

"I don't care what others think," Sophia loyally huffed. "Why should you have to leave? Mr. Drummond participated in the fiasco, and we'll never see any scolding fingers pointed at him. Why should you consider yourself disgraced?"

"I ruined myself with no thought to the consequences."

"You can remain here as long as you like, and if anyone gossips or condemns, I'll have my husband speak to them. He'll shut them up quickly enough."

Georgina chuckled, thoroughly charmed by this new version of Sophia. Her marriage to Kit Roxbury had altered her-but in beneficial ways. She'd taken over the running of the manor, and with her vigilant management the house seemed fresh and bright, as if Augusta had been a black cloud that had finally cleared away.

Perhaps Sophia had simply grown up or maybe Kit Roxbury was a sorcerer who could force a miracle to occur.

Georgina could barely stand to watch them cooing and cuddling. It made her own sorry circumstance even more pathetic, and she hated to be petty, but she constantly wondered: Why can't I have what they have? Why can't I stumble on someone who will always love me? Why can't I live happily ever after?

The butler entered to fetch Sophia so she could consult with the housekeeper over the supper menu. As he led her away, Georgina suffered an embarrassing moment of jealousy. Once, in the not too distant past, she was the one consulted by the servants.

She'd run the estate and had been adept at it too. She'd enjoyed those days when she'd felt useful and important. Now she felt lost and adrift and incredibly bored.

She waited for Sophia to return, and when she didn't she rose and wandered the halls. In the three months she'd been away, her mind had played tricks on her. She'd recalled the manor as a cherished place where she'd reveled in the grandeur, but she didn't actually have fond feelings.

She was detached from it all as if she was a visitor who'd never resided there. Her memories were raw, her history too unpleasant. There was no tender yearning to tarry.

Eventually she found herself in the rear of the mansion and walking toward the estate agent's office. It was Kit's office now so it was wrong to enter, but she couldn't keep herself from sneaking in to take a peek.

She tiptoed over to the desk and was looking out the window into the garden when, from behind her, a familiar, aggravating voice said, "Hello, Georgina."

Her heart skipped with an excitement that astonished her, and she whipped around. "Mr. Drummond!"

"Fancy meeting you here."

He was seated in a chair in the corner, and apparently he'd been there for a while. There was a table next to him, a decanter of liquor and a glass were there too. Most of the contents of the bottle were gone.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"London."

"Why didn't you tell anybody? Kit has been worried sick."

"He shouldn't have been. He knows I have nine lives, and I still have several of them left."

"Miles's men didn't get hold of you again did they?"

"No. I simply had business to complete."

"You're back."

"For a bit. Yes."

He was studying her strangely, and she was gaping strangely too. Ever since she'd realized her predicament, she'd been eagerly anticipating this encounter. In her mind, she'd rehearsed her comments a thousand times, but with them sitting face to face she had no idea how to raise the topics that truly needed to be addressed.

She'd never missed her parents more. This was the sort of conversation a father had with a potential son-in-law. Or that a mother had with a daughter. Then a swift wedding would be arranged. Yet how could a single female such as herself wrangle the appropriate conclusion? How could she force a recalcitrant man to do the right thing?

"Why are you snooping in here?" he asked. "Were you searching for something?"

"No. I'm nostalgic, I guess. I loved being in this room."

"Kit loves it too, I suspect."

"Yes, he does."

"Why are you at Kirkwood?"

"Why are you?"

"I own the property. What's your excuse?"

She flushed from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.

Tell him! Just blurt it out! But she might have been struck dumb.

When she didn't reply, he said, "I must admit I'm surprised. After our quarrel in Whitfield, I never expected to see you again."

"I had to...ah...talk to Sophia about a problem I was having."

Suddenly he was assessing her like a hawk circling a rabbit. "What problem?"

"It's not important," she stupidly responded.

"I take it your job at your cousin's tavern didn't work out."

"Oh, it worked out. I could return if I wanted to."

"You don't want to?"

"Not at the moment, but I might in the future. It all depends..."

"On what?"

She was swamped by a potent urge to run out and hide, and it dawned on her that she should have Kit speak to him. It would certainly be easier to let Kit handle it. But she'd never been a ninny, had never been scared to confront issues that had to be confronted.

When had she grown so timid?

"Are you planning to stay on at Kirkwood?" she inquired.

"No."

"Why not?"

"As you succinctly pointed out that day at Whitfield, I hate it here. I never should have come back. There are too many demons to plague me."

"I feel the same way. Where will you go instead?"

"I haven't decided. It depends..."

"On what?" she asked as he just had.

He stood and walked over to her. He was so tall and imposing, and she never got over the aura of strength and power that rolled off him in waves.

"I can't remain in England," he said. "In light of how the Crown treated me, I've lost any patriotic affection."

"You'll leave Britain?"

"Yes."

In the grueling hours she'd pondered this reunion, she'd wondered if he hadn't already left the country, but in a small part of her brain she'd persuaded herself that he hadn't, that she'd have sensed his absence.

But to hear him say he was really going! She couldn't imagine England without him in it, and mad as it sounded, she nearly fell to her knees and begged him not to depart.

Wasn't that the oddest scenario ever? What was it to her if he departed? So long as he provided financially for her child before he went it shouldn't matter what he did.

"Will you return to Australia?" she asked.

"No. My memories of that place are even worse than my memories of this one. I'm partial to the weather there though. The sun was always shining, and I liked that very much. I was thinking I'd like to settle in a more temperate climate."

"Where might that be?"

"Spain? Italy? I stopped in Cairo on the way from Botany Bay. I met a rich Frenchman named Valois who had a villa on the banks of the Nile and he lived like a king. Maybe that should be my destination. Or I own a sugar plantation in Jamaica. I could head there."

"I can't envision you in any of those spots."

"Why can't you?"

"I suppose I'll always connect you to Kirkwood. I can't picture you anywhere else."

"And I can't picture myself here."

"Would you ever come back to visit?"