Impetuous Innocent

by Stephanie Laurens

  THE EAST WIND was chilly. Grey clouds scudded low across the tops of the trees, skeletal fingers emerging to trap them as the summer cloaks were stripped, leaf by leaf, away. Everywhere summer was in decline, giving way to the gusts of autumn, chill harbingers of year’s end.

  Perched on the box seat of Viscount Alton’s curricle, Georgiana was immune from the cold. Refusing to face her bleak future, she revelled in the warmth of the moment. Her wind-whipped cheeks glowed and her eyes, when she managed to wrench them free of his lordship’s steady gaze, sparkled with life and love. She had left her inhibitions in Green Street and was happy.

  Beside her, Dominic was host to a range of emotions, some of which were both novel and, to one of his experience, distinctly disturbing. That he loved Georgiana Hartley, in the complete fullness of the term, he no longer doubted. But that she could invoke in him the full gamut of desire, to the point where his mind became prey to salacious imaginings, was not something he had expected. She was a young, innocent, inexperienced, green girl. A golden angel. Yet, no matter how many accurate adjectives he heaped about her name, nothing detracted from the sensual spell she cast over him. She was learning quickly. But she had no idea, he felt sure, of the risks she courted. His well honed skills, all but automatic, were in danger of carrying them away.

  There were few people in the park. The cold weather had kept most of the fashionable indoors. They completed one circuit, then went about again, content to prolong their time in such unaccustomed seclusion. Few words were exchanged. Their eyes spoke, and that was enough.

  When the gates hove a second time into view, Dominic acknowledged the passing hours and headed his team for the street. His gaze flicked to Georgiana’s face, catching her wide-eyed hazel stare, and he knew she had enjoyed their time together as much as he had. In that instant, he made his decision.

  He had postponed asking her to marry him, wanting his courtship of her to be a recognised fact before any announcement. Quick betrothals between men such as he and sweet delights such as she had a way of being remembered and whispered about. He wanted no breath of a question to touch her.

  But there were only two more days of the Season to go. And there was no doubt of their state. And no reason at all to procrastinate.

  As the park gates fell behind, Georgiana was conscious of the day closing in, of a dimming of her joy. For the past hour she had been happy. It was so easy to forget, to imagine instead how things might have been. But always reality eventually intruded, reminding her of the real reason for his interest in her.

  By the time Green Street was reached and he lifted her down she was thoroughly depressed once more. He escorted her indoors, and she inwardly shrank at the coming meeting with Bella. Her hostess, to whom she owed so much, was aux anges at the prospect of having her for a sister-in-law.

  She was shaken out of her dismal thoughts by the words, “The drawing-room, I think, Johnson. You needn’t inform your mistress that we’ve returned.”

  Before her weary mind had time to do more than register that quite improper order, Dominic had deftly ushered her into the drawing-room and shut the door.

  Suddenly conscious of the desirability of putting as much space as possible between them, Georgiana quickly crossed the room. Her heartbeat, which had slowed somewhat since they had left the park, picked up its tempo.

  From his stance just inside the door, Dominic viewed her impetuous movement, which had about it the air of flight, and frowned. Then, when he saw the agitated flutter of her small hands, clasping and unclasping before her, a slow smile erased the stern look. She was nervous, no more. A strange rapport existed between them. So she sensed his intention and, true to her age and innocence, was disturbed. His features softened. He crossed to stand beside her.

  “Georgiana, my love…”

  A small gesture silenced him. Georgiana could stand the strain no more. “Dominic, please,” she whispered, infusing every particle of persuasion she could into her tones.

  After the briefest of pauses, she continued, “My lord, I am most sensible of the honour you do me, but I cannot marry you.”

  Dominic suppressed the instinctive retort that he hadn’t yet had a chance to ask her and, to his surprise, found himself fascinated, rather than furious. “Why?”

  Despite her highly strung state, Georgiana spared a moment to curse silently the incredible evenness in temper that could yield such a mild response. If truth be known, she would infinitely have preferred a more melodramatic reaction. That, she would have known how to deal with. Instead, his deceptively simple question was anything but easy to answer.

  In fact, as the minutes stretched, she realised she couldn’t answer it at all. In growing panic, she shook her head, dropping her gaze to her nervously clenching fingers.

  Dominic sighed. “Georgiana, my love, I should perhaps inform you that I am not one of the school which holds it right and proper that a young lady should refuse her chosen suitor at least three or four times before accepting him, so as not to appear too eager.” He waited to see what effect that had, and was not entirely surprised to see her ringlets dance a decided negative.

  Allowing silence, so often his ally, to stretch still further, Dominic, close behind her, watched her growing agitation, and chose his moment to murmur, “Sweetheart, I’ve not got infinite patience.”

  The gentle tone of his voice cloaked the steel of the words. Georgiana did not miss the implication of either. Her nerves singed by his nearness, she abruptly took a step away, then turned to face him. She had to make him understand the futility of his enterprise.

  “My lord, I…must make it plain to you. I will not marry you.”

  Dominic wasn’t really listening. She had not answered his question, which, in itself, was answer enough. He was not in the mood to listen to missish denials, not when her eyes were so soft and her lips, gently parted, just begged to be kissed.

  Seeking to impress on him the inevitability of her refusal, Georgiana allowed her eyes to meet his. And, as had happened so often before, in the warm blue of his gaze, she felt their wills collide and hers melt away. Mesmerised, she could barely breathe as he moved closer, one long finger rising to trace the curve of her cheek, stopping at the corner of her mouth. Unable to move, she watched as his eyes fixed on her lips. Unconsciously, her tongue slipped between them to run its moist pink tip along their suddenly dry contours. He smiled. Then, tantalisingly slowly, his head drew nearer, his lips hungry for hers.

  As her eyelids drooped, panic seized Georgiana. In desperation, she put her small hands up before her and met the wall of his chest. She turned her head away. She felt him hesitate. In that instant she seized the tattered remnants of her sanity and, on a choked sob, fled the room.

  In utter disbelief, Dominic watched her go. As the door shut behind her he uttered one comprehensive oath and, thrusting his hands deep in his breeches pockets, swung about to glare at the window.

  After a moment he glanced around, half expecting the door to open and for her to return. When nothing happened, he muttered irritably and ostensibly gave his attention to a minute inspection of Bella’s lace draperies. What the devil did Miss Georgiana Hartley think she was playing at? What the devil did she think he was playing at?

  When the ticking of the mantelpiece clock made it plain any hope of Georgiana’s return was forlorn, Dominic let his head fall back. Scowling at the ceiling, he vented his disapproval in one sharp and pungent phrase, then strode purposefully to the door, his face like granite.

  Johnson, unperturbed and imperturbable, met him in the hall.

  “Dominic!”

  In the act of shrugging on his greatcoat, Dominic swung to meet his brother-in-law’s sharp gaze.

  Arthur stood in the library doorway. Now he took a step back in clear invitation. “I’ve some information you might find of interest. If you can spare the time…?”

  Even from across the hall Dominic could sense the amusement in the older man’s voice. He knew Arthur understoo
d his intentions towards Georgiana. And approved of them. With another shrug, he divested himself once more of his coat and, leaving the heavy garment in Johnson’s hands, strolled with as much nonchalance as he could muster past his brother-in-law and into the library.

  A delighted chuckle was his reward.

  Elegantly disposing his limbs in one of the heavily padded leather chairs, Dominic raised eyes limpid with enquiry to Arthur’s face.

  Sinking into the chair behind his heavy desk, Arthur met the cool blue glaze with one of unalloyed amusement. “You know, for a man of such vast experience, you’re being singularly obtuse in your present campaign.”

  Dominic’s black brows rose haughtily. “Oh?”

  “From Georgiana’s loss of composure and your own black looks, I assume you’ve offered for her and been rejected.”

  From narrowed eyes, Dominic surveyed his brother-in-law. They had always got on well. In truth, there was no one he trusted more. So he dropped his reserve and answered with a languid air, “If you must know, I haven’t as yet proposed. I have, however, been refused. Twice.”

  With an effort that was obvious, Arthur swallowed his laughter. Finally, when he was sure he could command his voice, he said, “Well, that’s hardly surprising.”

  The blue eyes watching him narrowed again. After a pregnant pause Dominic murmured, “Arthur, if you weren’t who you are, I rather think I’d take exception to that comment.”

  Far from being cowed, Arthur only smiled. “I didn’t think you’d seen it.”

  A world-weary expression of dutifully waiting to be informed of what “it” was infused Dominic’s countenance.

  “Why, the Place, of course.”

  “The Place?” echoed Dominic, bewildered.

  “The Place,” repeated Arthur. “You know, it’s that little piece of land you’ve spent half of the last ten years trying to buy.”

  “But…” Dominic stopped. It came as a shock to realise that desire for the Place, an obsession nursed and fed for years, had simply been forgotten, displaced, rendered unimportant by his desire for Georgiana. In fact he hadn’t thought of the Place with a view to gaining possession for weeks. Not since he had met Georgiana. He frowned.

  Arthur sat back and watched his friend’s face as the pieces fell into place. It wasn’t hard to work out the probabilities once the facts had been pointed out. And, despite Dominic’s reputation with the ladies, Arthur, remembering the euphoric daydream that had possessed his own sharp wits in the days he had wooed Bella, found nothing odd in the notion that his brother-in-law had completely mislaid his obsession in the whirl of recent weeks.

  Eventually Dominic’s features relaxed slightly and he glanced up to meet Arthur’s grey gaze. “So she thinks I’m marrying her to get my hands on the Place.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Arthur shrugged. “It’s hardly an uncommon event, for men to marry for property. And I doubt she has any idea of the relative value of the Place and your own estates. But I’d go bail Bella’s edified her with the tale of your desire for the land.” He paused, but Dominic was frowning at the inkstand on the desk. “Has she given you any other reason for her refusal?”

  Without looking up, Dominic shook his head slowly. “Not this time. The reason for her first refusal was quite different.” He glanced up with a wry grin. “She’d heard the stories of Elaine Changley and had convinced herself I was in love with Elaine.”

  “And only wanted to marry her for her dowry?”

  Dominic looked struck. “She didn’t actually say so,” he mused, “but I suppose that must have been in her mind. I didn’t think further than disabusing her of the idea that I’d ever been truly enamoured of or considered marrying Elaine Changley.”

  Arthur said nothing.

  Then Dominic shook his head. “No, it won’t fit. I started paying court to her at the Hattringhams’ ball, before any of us knew she owned the Place.”

  “The masked ball?” said Arthur, tapping one finger against his lips. “I assume she knew you knew who she was, that night.”

  Dominic shifted in his chair. “No. But I told her I did know later.”

  “How later?”

  Exasperated, Dominic frowned at his brother-in-law. “At the Massinghams’ rout.”

  “After our little visit to Lincoln’s Inn.”

  With a long drawn sigh of frustration, Dominic stretched and crossed his arms behind his head. “You’re right.” He considered the inkstand again. Then he said, as if talking to himself, “So I’ll just have to remove that little obstacle from my path.”

  Perfectly satisfied with the effects of his interference, Arthur leant back in his chair and watched as his brother-in-law planned his next moves. Finally Dominic looked up.

  “There are only two more days left to the Season. How long do you plan to remain in Green Street?”

  Arthur smiled. “For as long as it takes you to settle this business.”

  A quick smile lit Dominic’s face. “You are coming to Candlewick, aren’t you?”

  Arthur nodded. “I’ve already sent instructions for Jonathon and his nurse to travel direct to Candlewick. The weather’s closing in and, as you know, I’m not one to take chances. They should be there by now. I’d thought to send Bella down as soon as she’s free of her social activities. Mrs Landy can fuss over her more effectively than anyone else. I’ll go to the Lodge and check through business there, then come across before Christmas.”

  To all this, Dominic nodded. “It’ll take a day or two to deal with the Place. But once I’ve cleared that hurdle from my path, I don’t expect any further impediment to our affairs.” He paused, then added with a slightly grim smile, “I would be obliged if you would inform Miss Hartley that I have some…pressing business to attend to, but will call on her in two days’ time to continue our discussion of her future.” He considered his words, then shrugged and rose. “With luck, I’ll be able to escort both Bella and Georgiana down a few days after that.”

  “Good,” said Arthur. “The news from the country is that there’ll be early snows. I’d feel happier once Bella’s safely installed at Candlewick.” He watched as Dominic crossed to the door, waiting until his fingers were on the handle to say, “By the by, do let me know if you feel the need for any further assistance in this matter.”

  Dominic smiled sweetly. “My friend, I’ve often thought it was a good thing for England that you were born an Englishman. God only knows what might have happened if Napoleon and his generals had had you as a quartermaster.”

  Arthur laughed.

  With a neat bow, Dominic left, closing the door softly behind him.

  TO GEORGIANA’S dismay, relief was not her predominant emotion on waking the next morning to no extravagant gifts, no note requesting her company on a drive, nothing. She sighed. She told herself sternly it was how she wanted things to be. He had at last accepted the fact she would not marry him.

  Feeling at one with the gloomy morning, close and grey with drizzle, she dressed without interest and wended her way downstairs, wondering what she could do to fill in the bleak hours.

  But she had barely left the breakfast-table to join Bella in the back parlour when Johnson came to summon her.

  “A legal gentleman, miss. Name of Whitworth.”

  Brows rising, Georgiana stood and laid aside her embroidery. “In the drawing-room, Johnson?”

  The butler bowed and escorted her to where Mr Whitworth the elder waited patiently, his bright eyes darting curiously about the white and gilt room.

  As soon as he had bowed to her, Georgiana waved him to a chair. He looked alarmed when it creaked protestingly under his weight. But Georgiana was too puzzled to waste any time reassuring him. She hadn’t sent for him. Why was he here?

  Apparently agreeing his presence required immediate explanation, Mr Whitworth made haste to answer her unvoiced query. “My dear Miss Hartley, forgive my calling on you unheralded, but we have received a very generous offer for the Place. The bu
yer is most urgent to settle, so I took the liberty of calling in person.”

  Georgiana’s immediate reaction was of immense relief. She would be rid of her albatross of an inheritance. If it hadn’t been for the Place, she would not now be subject to the most deadening melancholy. And she would certainly never want to return there, as close as it was to Candlewick. But, hard on the heels of relief, came a swift understanding of what it would mean to Dominic—no! Lord Alton—if she sold the Place to another. A sharp stab of empathy brought an impulsive denial to her lips. But she bit the words back and forced herself to consider more carefully.

  Dominic wanted the Place…wanted it so badly that he would even marry to get it. But, although she loved him, he didn’t love her. She would not, could not, allow him to sacrifice either himself or her to the misery of a one-sided marriage. But she could give him what he wanted.

  Mr Whitworth stirred uneasily, then cleared his throat.

  Before he could launch into one of his long-winded discourses, Georgiana held up a small hand, commanding silence.

  Only a moment’s thought was required to convince her Dominic would not accept the Place as a gift from her. But there was nothing to stop her offering to sell it to him. He had tried to buy it from Charles, after all.

  “What were the conditions offered by this buyer? And who is he?”

  Mr Whitworth was only too happy to answer Georgiana’s first question, naming a sum which meant nothing to her, but which, he assured her ponderously, was, “Very generous. Exceedingly so!”

  After a moment, he went on, “But the thing that moved me to come here in this manner, my dear Miss Hartley, is that the buyer wishes an answer by this afternoon.”

  “This afternoon?” echoed Georgiana. She looked at her solicitor. His excited urgency was apparent in the way he almost bobbed in his chair. “Surely, that’s rather unusual?”

  Mr Whitworth pursed his lips, and she feared she was about to be told every case of rapid sale he had ever heard of, chapter and verse. But instead his breath came out in a little whoosh. “Well, yes,” he admitted. “But whoever has that sort of money to throw down can generally call the tune.”