Free Pretty Persuasion by Olivia Kingsley Page B

shared."
    "Indeed?" He raised his eyebrows in the haughty way that always set her teeth gnashing. "Then perhaps you would care to share with me the knowledge of Georgiana's whereabouts this evening?"
    Oh, she had dug her own grave with that one. Worse than realizing her hypocrisy in pointing out his lack of communication, though, was knowing he had called her on it.
    There was nothing to do but bite the bullet. Cheeks flaming, Elizabeth looked to the somber man standing behind her husband's chair. The servants at Southwell House were loyal; they might gossip among themselves, but they wouldn't let it travel beyond the household staff. And they knew—oh, they knew that Georgie had left during the night, alone.
    She gave the butler a pointed look. Needing no further directive, he executed a quick bow and quit the room.
    Her nausea increased, and she could practically feel bile clogging her throat as she met her husband's expectant gaze. She could lie and be found out, or she could tell the truth. The result would be the same. She didn't have to add fuel to his fury by trying to deceive him. "Oh, Charles, I know I ought to have told you sooner…"
    "Told me what?" The words cut through the room like a whiplash, and he stiffened, sitting up straight.
    Elizabeth swallowed hard. "Georgie eloped. With Rossemore."
    The silence that followed was excruciating. Charles stared at her, his jaw set, his eyes flinty. She had not expected an outburst; it was not his way. But she had expected some sort of response. "Have you nothing to say?"
    "What is there to say?" Slapping his napkin onto the table, he pushed away and got to his feet. "I believe our meal is at an end."
    As he strode toward the door, Elizabeth shot up from her chair. "You can leave this room, Charles, but you cannot run from me. I thought you knew that by now."
    He stilled with his hand on the door handle. "It would seem," he said, half turning toward her, "that, after all these years, I remain the optimist."
    "Pshaw! A fool, that's what you are. And that makes a pair of us, for, like a fool, I thought you'd at least show some concern for your daughter's welfare."
    His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened. "If I were to worry about her welfare, I should never sleep easy at night. She is, and always has been, unmanageable. I was looking forward to the day she'd no longer be my responsibility."
    Elizabeth sucked in a breath. She knew he could be callous, but not when it came to their children. Not even when there was a threat of scandal, a threat she knew he lived in constant fear of. "How can you not care about her happiness?"
    "If it's Rossemore she wants, I wish her all the happiness in the world. He may have her, and good riddance."
    "And her dowry?"
    "That he may not have."
    "That is what he wants." She edged slowly away from the table. "I'm convinced he's a fortune hunter."
    Charles's face could have been carved in stone, it was so impassive. "I am vastly relieved to hear it. If it's her
money
he's lusting after, she will not come away unwed. Considering the alternative, we ought to count ourselves fortunate."
    Pain lodged in Elizabeth's chest. There was some measure of truth in that sentiment. If Sheffield managed to stop the wedding and Georgie's escapade became public knowledge, the scandal would be massive. But scandals were forgotten, eventually. Marriage was for life.
    Her husband had not changed much during the past four-and-twenty years, but she had thought that with the appearance of silver in his jet-black hair, his priorities might have shifted. Apparently, he still put his good name above the well-being of his family. It was like an old wound ripped open all over again.
    "Then you will be less than pleased to know that she may yet come away no more a wife than when she left," Elizabeth snapped, latching onto anger as she fought the tears burning behind her eyes. "The morning after they eloped, I called on Sheffield and asked him to go after them. He