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Jonathon...” To her dismay, her voice trembled too. She took another quick breath, grateful for the near darkness inside the carriage. “I’m going to return to Harrow Hall tomorrow.” The depths of Lincolnshire had been a much needed sanctuary during her mourning period. There was no reason why it couldn’t be again.
    “Tosh. All because you lost a couple of piquet rounds to Markham? No one will care, Georgie. No one that matters. I won’t let you disappear down a rabbit hole to lick your imagined wounds.” Jonathon reached forward and squeezed her hand.
    “You know it’s not just about the cards.” She paused and pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders, as if wrapping herself up could somehow contain her pain. “Without Teddy...”
    “You’re worried that you’ll be beset by unscrupulous suitors who think you’re desperate for a man. Who’ll use you and then discard you like yesterday’s scandal sheets. I know, Georgie, believe me. But not everyone is like that bastard Lord Craven.”
    Georgie sucked in a sharp breath and her heart stuttered oddly. Painfully. A toxic combination of shame and fear roiled about in her belly and she had to swallow down a sudden wave of nausea. “Please don’t mention that man’s name to me,” she whispered, her voice edged with such harsh bitterness, she almost didn’t recognize it.
    Jonathon sighed and he reached for her again, but she kept her hands clenched tightly in the damp silk at her chest. She was too furious and heartsick to even accept that small gesture of comfort.
    “I’m sorry, Georgie-bean,” he said softly and sat back again, clearly accepting that she’d retreated behind a wall of sullen anger. “That was unthinking of me. But I honestly don’t think Phillip and Helena would have introduced you to Markham if he was a complete cad. Or worse.”
    Georgie snorted. “I’d never even heard of the man until he sat down in front of me and bold-as-you-please introduced himself. How much could Phillip and Helena really know about him? He could be exactly like Lord Cra—” She couldn’t finish the word and she glared at Jonathon through a haze of hot, stinging tears. The light from a lamppost revealed his guilt-stricken face for a fleeting moment, and her heart twisted a little more—this time with her own remorse. Jonathon meant well, she knew that. She swallowed past the ache in her throat then drew in a steadying breath before attempting to speak in a gentler tone. “How much do you know about him?”
    Jonathon’s shoulders heaved with another weary sigh. “Only what Phillip told me, to be honest. Markham’s recently become the heir to the Marquessate of Avonmore. His older brother, who was much given to living quietly in the country, passed away about a year ago without issue—a hunting accident—so Markham’s now an earl and next in line for his father’s title.”
    Georgie nodded. She only vaguely recalled the details of the marquess’s son’s death because it had occurred about the same time as Teddy’s. But still... She frowned. Rafe Landsbury, the new Earl of Markham was almost a complete stranger in the realm of the haut ton . And she was intrigued as to why that should be so. She knew nearly everyone. “That still doesn’t explain why you and I have never laid eyes on him before tonight.”
    “Apparently Markham’s been overseas in diplomatic service for some years. Russia, Sweden and the like. Though, I believe he attended Cambridge at the same time as Phillip and Rothsburgh. However, he would have been known as Lord Rafe Landsbury then.”
    Georgie sighed and lessened her vice-like grip on her shawl. That piece of information reassured her a little. Perhaps Markham wasn’t rotten to the core. But nevertheless, he was still very much a rake. And for that reason alone she should avoid him. One broken heart was enough for one lifetime. She’d never risk giving it to anyone again.
    “Well, all of that hardly