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my
head be taken off by John Crawford, you will be left quite bereft,
and so will your sisters, now that your father is gone. And
furthermore, my dear, ought you not to remember that you broke your
word to the same man who might come after me? That you forsook him
to marry me and be a countess?"
    Georgiana shot Hugh a furious look, her
earrings dangling, but it was his turn to smile as he continued
smoothly, "What will he believe, when he sees you more beautiful
than ever, the toast of fashionable London, while he has been all
grimy and muddy in his Indian war? What will he think when he knows
you married the man who, as you say, threw his dying mother out of
her house?"
    Ned, who had been looking at the ceiling and
wondering whether he could sneak out of the room without saying
anything, now contributed, "Well, if he is to be taking anyone's
heads off, I should say it'd be better to double the footmen at the
entrance and lock the windows, for I hear he will be here in less
than ten days!"
    Unable to digest the news for different
reasons, the Earl and Countess went their separate ways without
finishing their luncheon. Once Georgiana arrived in her room, she
locked the door feeling as though she couldn't breathe. Reaching
for a pair of scissors lying on her vanity table, she cut the lace
on her stays and then collapsed on the bed, hiding her face in the
pillow.
    Would John hate her because she had married a
man he despised?
    But why had he not written to her to stop
her? Had he been so angry at the very notion that he had decided
never to speak to her again? He was so impetuous and his rages were
so terrible! Had he not even given her a chance, or cared to help
her find another solution?
    Or had he simply forgotten her, ceased loving
her through the two years of separation?
    And then there could have been no other
solution, because her father, too, had died. He was supposed to
have caught pneumonia, but she knew it was worry that had destroyed
his health, and she knew that it was her fault. If she had accepted
Hugh immediately, Mr. Blake would not have needed to fret about the
fate of his daughters. But she had made everyone wait, because she
had been waiting for John.
    She did not know how much of Hugh's obsession
with her had been due to desire, and how much to the need to
inflict pain on his half brother. Perhaps it was both in equal
parts. Had he not screamed at her once, when she reminded him of
his abominable treatment of John's mother,  "What about what
his mother did to mine?"
    Whether or not Hugh had cause to hate his
father for loving John's mother and not his own, for loving John
better than him, Georgiana could never empathize with him. She had
never given her husband the satisfaction of wanting him, not even a
little, not even when, at the beginning, he had been patient. She
had always loathed his touch, his kisses and his bed, and he had
known it.
    At some point after the third month of
marriage, it had dawned on him that she would not ever return his
caresses, but by that time she was expecting a child. He had left
her alone then, to ensure that his heir was carried to term. Heaven
knew where he had gone to fulfill his needs during this time; she
had only felt relief.
    But she had miscarried two months later. It
happened often, she was told, but the misery she felt remained, and
she had not been able to conceive a child since then.
    All the sorrow had been hard for her to bear:
it had changed her, and she was more melancholy now. Any affection
she had had for her older sisters had waned when Virginia  had
selfishly eloped with a man she did not even love for long, and
when Bess had shaken her by the hair at the announcement that she
was to marry Halford.
    "You have stolen him away with your tricks!"
Bess had shrieked.
    Georgiana had screamed back. "I don't want
him! Have him, if he will have you!"
    She had lost almost everything that mattered,
and now John, who still mattered so much, was returning.
    But he was