Impetuous Innocent

by Stephanie Laurens

  Walking beside him to the door, Georgiana struggled to free enough of her mind from its preoccupation with Lord Alton to make sense of what was going on. Emerging into the hall, she looked about for Cruickshank.

  “I’ve sent your maid on.” Dominic was beside her, holding her coat.

  “Oh,” said Georgiana, suddenly aware of a disturbing glint in his lordship’s blue eyes. Did that mean she would be travelling in a closed carriage alone with him?

  Settling Georgiana’s coat over her shoulders, Dominic cast a sharp glance at their host, standing genially beside them. “Harry…?”

  Lord Edgcombe’s grey eyes met his over Georgiana’s head. A slight frown and a shake of the head was all the immediate response Harry made as Georgiana turned to thank him for his trouble. He charmingly disclaimed all effort, bowing with easy grace over her hand. As he straightened, his eyes intercepted Dominic’s blue gaze.

  “Not a word, I assure you.” The grey eyes glinted, amusement in their depths. “You have my heartfelt thanks. Can you doubt it? Any word from me would cook my own goose, after all.”

  Reassured but puzzled, Dominic raised his brows in question.

  Harry grinned and waved an airy hand. “M’sisters are a mite pressed at the moment, it seems. Can you imagine their joy if they learned of—er—what so recently transpired? Why, it would spell the end to my distinguished career.” He fixed Dominic with a winning smile. “No, no, m’lad. Rather you than me.”

  Walking towards the door ahead of the two men, Georgiana, no longer subject to Viscount Alton’s mesmerising gaze, tried to follow the gist of their conversation, to no avail. When she turned in the doorway to bid Lord Edgcombe goodbye, it was to see both men cordially shaking hands. Piqued, feeling that something was going on literally over her head, Georgiana tilted her chin a fraction higher and coolly responded to Lord Edgcombe’s farewell.

  Turning to the street, she majestically descended the steps, but had barely gained the pavement before Lord Alton’s long fingers grasped her elbow. A spurt of anger urged her to shake off his hand, but the memory of that odd glint she had seen in his eye undermined her confidence. Before she had time to do more than register the fact that it was into a hackney rather than one of his own carriages he was helping her, she was inside. He followed her, taking the seat beside her. Immediately the driver whistled up his horse and they moved off.

  Georgiana strove to quiet her nerves, aquiver with an unnameable emotion. She kept her eyes on the streetscape while she tried to make sense of events. Why had he come to fetch her? Bella? Impulsively, she turned.

  “Is Bella all right?”

  His face was a mask. At her question, one black brow rose. “As far as I am aware.” After a moment he added, “She’s waiting at Alton House.”

  Alerted by the chilled crispness of his tone, Georgiana eyed him warily. “Did she send you for me?”

  Suddenly noticing the tension in his long frame, Georgiana tensed too. But his calmly enunciated, “Yes. She sent me,” gave her no clue to the cause of what she suspected was his displeasure.

  Irritated by his odd behaviour, Georgiana frowned and asked, “Why?”

  “Because, having learned that you had taken yourself off to visit a house in Jermyn Street, which, to one who knows London, means almost certainly to call on a bachelor alone, she needed someone to rescue you.”

  “But I didn’t need rescuing,” declared Georgiana, turning to face him more fully. “There was nothing the least wrong.”

  At his strangled laugh she flushed and went on, “I admit it was a relief to find it was Lord Edgcombe who lives there, but that just made it easier. And I made sure I took Cruickshank with me so I wasn’t alone.”

  “When I entered the house, Cruickshank was in the hall and you were most definitely alone with Harry.” With an effort, Dominic kept his voice even.

  Flushing at the censure in his tone, Georgiana swung her gaze to the street. “Yes, but there wasn’t… I was in no danger of…” Georgiana broke off. Now she thought it over, she was no longer so sure she hadn’t been in danger. There had been a rather disquieting gleam in Lord Edgcombe’s grey eyes when she had first arrived. However, the more they had talked, the more she had become convinced he was merely slightly nervous over something. Maybe she had misread the signs. Still, he had done nothing to deserve Lord Alton’s suspicions. “Lord Edgcombe was most truly the gentleman.”

  “I would imagine Harry would always act the gentleman he undoubtedly is,” Dominic retorted, asperity colouring his words. “But that doesn’t mean he isn’t a rake and a gamester, and therefore totally unsuitable as private company for a young lady. Such as yourself.”

  There was no mistaking the anger in the clipped words. Amazed, her own temper flying, Georgiana turned an incredulous face to him. “But you’re a rake and a gamester, too. Why is it safe for me to be alone with you but not with him?”

  At her question Dominic closed his eyes in exasperation and thought determinedly about his old nurse, about climbing trees at Candlewick—anything to shut out the urge to sweep her on to his lap and kiss her witless. Safe? She was pushing her luck.

  Anger growing at his refusal to answer, Georgiana continued, her long irritation with the oddities of English mores finding sudden outlet. “Why did you send Cruckers away? Surely it’s not acceptable for me to be riding in a carriage alone with you?”

  Forcibly keeping his eyes shut, Dominic answered, “The only reason it’s acceptable for you to be alone with me is because we’re soon to be married.” He waited for her “Oh” of understanding. When no sound came, he slowly opened his eyes.

  Georgiana was staring at him in total confusion.

  Quickly Dominic closed his eyes. She was definitely not safe.

  For long minutes Georgiana could do nothing but stare. But the fact that he had his eyes closed made it easier for her to think. He should have received the deed of the Place that morning. Dominic had said he would visit her once the sale was finalised, to discuss their mutual interest. She had no idea what he had meant by that. Now that he owned the Place, she could see no reason why he would still want to marry her.

  In real perturbation, Georgiana stared at the handsome face, wishing she could read his motives in the even features. Then, like a beacon on a hill, she saw the light. He had gone too far, too publicly, to draw back now. And that old scandal, the one that had started his rakish career, hung like Damocles’ sword, forcing him to offer for her or face the censure of the ton.

  Which meant she would have to deny him again, one last time. And make it convincing.

  She knew he did not love her, not as she understood love. He had shown no fiery passion, uttered no impassioned speeches nor indulged in any melodramatic gestures—all components of love as she knew it. The only time he had kissed her, it had been like a magic caress, so light that she could have dreamt it. But she was in love with him. And, because there seemed to be developing a strange conduit of communication between them, one that did not need words, or even gestures, a sensing that relied on something other than the physical, because of this, she would have to end it now. Or he would know.

  And that would be even harder to bear.

  Despite his wanting to marry her for her property, something she was honest enough to acknowledge was commonplace in his world, she had always felt safe with him. He had never intentionally done anything to cause her grief. If he ever learned she loved him—not gently, as a well bred young lady should, but to distraction—she doubted he would accept a denial of his suit. He would not cause her pain.

  Could he be made to understand that loving him as she did, being married to him, knowing he did not love her in the same way, would cause her even greater pain that if she was never to see him again?

  His eyes remained shut. Georgiana could not resist the temptation to study his face, memorising each detail, storing the vision in her heart to last her for a lifetime. She saw his eyelids flicker, then slowly rise. Ill prepared to
meet his blue gaze, she straightened and turned slightly away, furiously blinking back the tears which suddenly threatened, pressing her hands tightly together to still their trembling.

  Dominic took one look at his love, all but quivering with suppressed emotion, and his anger abruptly vanished.

  “Georgiana?”

  When she made no answer beyond a small wave of her hand, Dominic drew back, giving her the time she needed to compose herself, ruthlessly stilling the instinctive urge to wrap her in his arms and comfort her. He didn’t dare touch her. Frustrated beyond measure, he felt an insane desire to laugh, to catch her to him and kiss her worries, whatever they were, away. Her silence screamed the fact that she was still labouring under some delusion sufficient to make her balk at the very mention of marriage. Her forlorn countenance showed he had his work very much ahead of him.

  His eyes on her guinea-gold curls, Dominic sighed. He wanted her, and he was tired of the roundabout the prescribed methods of courtship had put them on.

  He waited until her breathing became less laboured, until the pulse at the base of her throat beat less tumultuously. Then he tried again. “Georgiana, my dear, what is it?”

  Georgiana put up one small hand in a gesture he found both imperious and, in her present state, endearing.

  “Please, my lord. You must let me speak.” Her voice was low, urgent and breathless.

  “Of course, my dear.” Dominic managed a politely attentive tone. He made no move to take her hand, but continued to sit beside her, the flounce of her skirt brushing his boots, his head inclined to watch her face. She did not look up at him, but fixed her gaze on her clasped hands, tensed in her lap.

  Georgiana drew a shuddering breath at his easy acquiescence. If only he would remain so calm, she might manage to accomplish her task. But he was near, so near. Speak—she had to speak or her resolution would crumble. “My lord, you must believe that I most earnestly value your friendship, and the…the proper feeling that lies behind your wish to marry me.” She paused, reaching deep to dredge the remainder of her strength, before continuing, “I am aware—have always been aware—that my ownership of the Place was fundamental to your interest in me. Now that you own the Place, there is no reason for any further talk of marriage between us.” Resolutely she swallowed the sob that rose in her throat and hurried on. “I realise that, if I were of the ton and chose to continue living in London, our association these past weeks might give rise to awkward conjecture. However, as I intend returning to Ravello shortly, I beg you will not let such considerations sway you.”

  Beside her, Dominic allowed his brows to rise. A smile, soft and gentle, curved his lips.

  Georgiana drew a deep breath. “My lord, I hope you will see that, in the circumstances, there is no reason for you to offer for me. Indeed,” she said, struggling to subdue her treacherous tears, “I beg you will not renew your offer.”

  “Of course not.”

  The calm words brought Georgiana up short. One moment she was about to dissolve in tears, the next she had turned and her eyes met his. “I beg your pardon?” she asked weakly.

  Smiling sympathetically, Dominic said, “My dear, if my offering for you will cause you distress, then of course I’ll not do it. I would never knowingly distress you.”

  The look which accompanied his words warmed Georgiana through and through, despite the total depression which now hung like a cold black pall over her. He was convinced. He was going to make it easy for her. Tremulously, she smiled.

  Seeing this evidence that she had pulled back from the brink, Dominic smiled back and possessed himself of one small hand.

  Georgiana was so relieved that she only just stopped herself from leaning against him, so close as he was. Her head was spinning. Was it possible to feel so cherished and yet know one was unloved? She wasn’t sure. In fact she was no longer sure of any number of things. But thankfully he had taken charge. She was sure he wouldn’t press her for further words.

  Words, especially from his beloved, were very far from Dominic’s mind. He had no intention of giving her the opportunity to refuse him again. It occurred to him that there were other routes to his desired goal. The time had come to consider alternatives—his patience was wearing wafer-thin. On impulse, he raised the hand he held and touched it to his lips, then, yielding to a need he was endeavouring to subdue, turned it and pressed a kiss to her palm. He heard the sharp intake of her breath, and glanced up to smile reassuringly at her.

  “My dear, you’re overset. I give you my word I’ll press you to do nothing unless it is your wish, urge you to nothing beyond what is in your heart to do. Remember that.”

  Georgiana blushed. As a parting speech, it held a note of promise entirely out of place with its supposed intent.

  Dominic watched her confusion grow, turning her eyes a deeper shade, like toffee. Repressing the all but overwhelming urge to kiss her, he reluctantly released her hand, adding in a conversational tone, “It’s very likely I’ll be out of town for the next few days, but I’ll see you before you leave town.” It would take a day or two to organise his trap, but he had no intention of letting her escape.

  The hack turned into a square and pulled up before an imposing mansion. Within minutes Georgiana was ushered inside to find Bella anxiously waiting.

  “DUCKETT? What the devil are you doing here?”

  Slouched in the armchair before the fireplace, Dominic frowned as his head butler, whom he had supposed still at Candlewick, entered the room. Unperturbed by his greeting, Duckett held a long taper to the fire and proceeded to circumnavigate the room, lighting candles as he went.

  “Timms is ill, m’lord. You’d given orders to shut up this house, so the lad very properly sent for me.”

  Dominic snorted. Lad? Timms was all of thirty-five if he was a day. But he was one of Duckett’s protégés and, provided he obeyed Duckett’s guidelines to the letter, would always be assured of the head butler’s protection.

  Turning the fragile glass balloon he held so that the candlelight caught and reflected from the golden liquid within, Dominic found himself staring at the glowing colour, the same colour as her eyes. With an effort, he withdrew his gaze and found his head butler engaged in the demeaning task of making up the fire.

  “Duckett, I have a problem.”

  “My lord?”

  “A problem with a lady, you understand.”

  “I understand perfectly, my lord.”

  “I sincerely doubt it,” replied Dominic. He eyed his henchman appraisingly. It wasn’t the first time he had unburdened himself to Duckett, and doubtless wouldn’t be the last. Duckett had started service as a stableboy with his grandfather. He had rapidly progressed through the ranks, reaching his present position shortly after Dominic had attained his majority. They’d been firm friends forever, it seemed, despite a good twenty years’ difference in age.

  “I’d value your opinion, Duckett.”

  “Very good, m’lord.” With the fire blazing, Duckett rose and unobtrusively busied himself, straightening books and stacking magazines.

  “The situation,” said Dominic, “can only be described as delicate. The lady in question is both young and innocent. The crux of the problem is that she has great difficulty in believing herself to be loved.”

  Dominic waited for some response, but none came. He turned and saw Duckett flicking the dust from a book before replacing it on the shelf.

  “Are you listening, Duckett?”

  “Naturally, m’lord.”

  Dominic let his head fall back against the chair. “Very good.” Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he went on, “This being so, the said lady invents the most tortuous reasons to account for my wanting to marry her, and for refusing my suit. The first was that I was in love with a courtesan and intended marrying her. Having convinced her this was untrue, I then found she believed that I wished to marry her in order to gain title to the Place, which she owns. Owned, I should say, because today I bought it from her. The t
itle-deed now resides in my strong-box and has lost all relevance to the proceedings. The last twist in the tale is that she now perceives that I feel I must marry her because, due to the public nature of my pursuit of her, not to do so would leave her open to the usual opprobrium.” Dominic paused to take a swig of the fiery liquid in his glass. “You now have the facts, Duckett. I am presently searching for ways and means of removing her to a suitably isolated locale, sufficiently private to allow me to convince her that I do in fact love her while at the same time rendering her opinion on the subject irrelevant.”

  A slight frown marred Duckett’s majestic countenance. “I take it the young lady returns your affections, my lord?”

  “The young lady is head over heels in love with me, if you must know.”

  “Ah,” said Duckett, nodding sagely. “Just so.”

  Dominic eyed his impeccable retainer through narrowed eyes. Duckett’s gaze was fixed in the far distance. Then, quite suddenly, a smile quirked at the corners of his mouth.

  “What are you thinking of, Duckett?”

  The soft question brought Duckett to himself with a start. Then he smiled at his master. “It just occurred to me, m’lord, that now that you own the Place you’d want Jennings and me to put our people through it—to tidy it up, as it were.”

  Puzzled, Dominic nodded. “Yes, but—”

  Duckett held up a restraining hand. “That being so, m’lord, I dare say there’ll be personal belongings—things to do with the Hartleys—that we’d need to know what to do with. And, I should warn you, old Ben says the snows are no more than a few days away.”

  Dominic’s eyes, vacant, remained trained on his butler’s face as the grandfather clock in the corner ticked on. Then, to Duckett’s relief, the blue gaze focused. Dominic smiled wickedly. “Duckett, prince of butlers, you’re a rascal. I’d be shocked, if I weren’t so grateful. No wonder I pay you so well.” Struggling upright, Dominic drained his glass and handed it to the waiting Duckett. “We’ll set out at first light.”