by CJ Archer
"I'm afraid you'll have to enlighten me."
"It means you've been accepted."
"Oh."
"Into Polite Society," Phillippa said, mistaking Georgiana's blankness for confusion. "They see you as being part of our household, and after only a few days too. Remarkable." Phillippa breathed deeply then continued with her chatter as if the breath had wound her up again. "The tongues must have begun wagging almost immediately upon your arrival. Your walks with us in Hyde Park would have helped. Oh, isn't it the most exciting thing!"
Oh dear, it was precisely what Georgiana didn't want, especially now that she'd made her mind up to leave. She'd become the latest gossip. The current spectacle. The new oddity that must be paraded at all the parties, scrutinized like a scientific discovery and prodded with questions. At least none of the gossip was malicious. Yet.
"That's delightful, Philly," she said through a false smile. "However I must decline."
"But you have to go!" Phillippa gripped Georgiana's shoulders, crushing the letter. "Don't you see? This is your chance to make a magnificent match. Lady Duffield only ever invites the best ton."
Poor Phillippa. For some reason she'd set her heart on marrying Georgiana off to an eligible gentleman. It felt a little cruel to let her down when she was so enthusiastic about her project. But Georgiana wasn't in London for Phillippa and she wasn't going to attend parties to give the ton someone new to ogle.
She gently took Phillippa's hands. "I'm sorry, Phillippa, but parties aren't my thing."
"Of course you're going," said Alex emerging from the library. "If you're worried about what to wear, you can borrow something of Philly's."
"Yes, do!" Phillippa beamed with renewed vigor. "Please come, Georgiana. I need a friend there and I suspect Alex does too. Unless Lord Northbridge is going of course. Do you know if he is, Alex?"
"Probably. He seems to turn up everywhere we go these days," he said with a pointed glare at his sister. "Can't get rid of him."
"Capital!" Phillippa turned her back to her brother then winked at Georgiana. "The addition of Lord Northbridge to any party is always a delight."
"Not always," Alex muttered. His gaze locked with Georgiana's over his sister's shoulder. Its intensity captured her, held her like a lover's embrace. She ached to go to him, right there in the entrance foyer in front of his sister. Her thighs throbbed with the memory of the night before, of his kisses and the way he'd cherished her. She wanted to experience that feeling all over again. Wanted him.
He cocked his eyebrow in an unspoken question, one she had no trouble interpreting—should he come to her tonight?
Her heart swelled at the thought. She nodded so slightly that she worried he might not have noticed. But then he smiled a smile of pure relief and expelled a deep sigh as if he'd restarted breathing.
"So you'll come," he said, his deep, commanding voice inviting no arguments.
"No," she said, "I cannot. It's not appropriate." Particularly since she was leaving the next day. A point she needed to keep from Alex. The rest of the day would be difficult enough without the added pressure he would put on her to stay. She tried to think clearly but she felt so topsy-turvy. One day she was determined to stay and he to be rid of her and a few days later the roles had reversed entirely.
"Not appropriate!" he bellowed, crashing into her thoughts. "To hell—."
"Alexander! Language." Lady Weatherby stood at the top of the grand staircase and surveyed those below her with a regal air. "Now, what is all this fuss about?" she said, descending the steps in a cloud of black crepe.
"The Duffields have invited Georgiana to tonight's dinner party," Phillippa said, flattening out the invitation between her hands.
Lady Weatherby's descent halted. Her nostrils flared. "Have they?"
"But she says she's not coming," Phillippa went on. "Please try to convince her, Aunt Harry. She won't listen to either Alex or I."
"Quite rightly too." Lady Weatherby continued down the stairs and joined their little group in the middle of the hall. Worth had long since disappeared. "It's improper for Alexander's nurse to attend a society party and Miss Appleby is doing the appropriate thing in declining."
Phillippa stomped her foot and opened her mouth to protest but her aunt shushed her with a single raised finger and a stern shake of her head.
"Lady Duffield thought she was doing the right thing in inviting her," Lady Weatherby said, "but perhaps she isn't aware of all the facts."
"The facts are, Aunt," Alex said, "that Georgiana is a guest in my home. She has been invited to a party with us and she will accept."
"She will not."
Ordinarily those three simple words would be enough to see Georgiana doing exactly the opposite, but this time she had to agree with Lady Weatherby. As much as it galled her.
However, before she could say anything, her self-appointed champion spoke. "It is not for you to say, Aunt Harry," Alex said through a jaw that barely moved. "Georgiana has been invited. I would like her to come as would Phillippa. This is not your decision."
Georgiana's heart melted and she wanted to kiss him all over. It was so lovely to have someone on her side again. It made her feel protected and adored. All the things she'd been lacking since her parents died. It was a shame she wasn't in need of a champion at that moment because it really was a sweet gesture. It made her want him all the more.
That thought only led to another twist of the knife that had begun gouging a hole out of her heart the moment she'd decided to leave.
"It is not appropriate," Lady Weatherby said stiffly. She met her nephew's glare with a formidable one of her own. She'd not once looked at Georgiana since her appearance in their company, as if Georgiana was not even there.
Alex opened his mouth to say something but Georgiana cut him off. "Whether it is appropriate or not isn't the point," she said. Her statement was met with three stares. "The point is, I do not wish to go. And I am not going. I'd like to have an early night anyway."
Alex made a low growling sound and stormed away. Georgiana sighed. He would be annoyed when he came to her tonight on his return.
"I did so want you there," Phillippa said on a sigh. She pouted and Georgiana gently squeezed her arm.
"Another time perhaps." As soon as she said it, she regretted it. She felt like a traitor, deceiving not only Alex but his sister too. She would write the girl a letter before she went to bed to explain that her departure wasn't Phillippa's fault. It wasn't anyone's but her own.
"A wise decision, Miss Appleby," Lady Weatherby said. "I commend you on your common sense. There is very little of that commodity in your generation, I find, so I believe it should be duly rewarded when it is employed." She nodded and gave Georgiana a somewhat forced smile. "Come and play the pianoforte for me, Phillippa," she said, turning away. "You could do with the practice."
Phillippa pulled a face and tossed the crumpled invitation onto the silver salver on the hall table. It landed on top of a card which had gone unnoticed. "There'll be other parties," she whispered when Lady Weatherby was out of earshot. "Next time Aunt Harry might see things differently." She brightened. "Perhaps if Alex's wounds became worse and he needed you with him at all times—."
"Phillippa!"
"Coming, Aunt." The girl quickly embraced Georgiana then skipped after the marchioness.
Georgiana watched them go with a sense of loss. She would miss them all when she was gone, even Lady Weatherby in a way. She'd come to appreciate the older woman's formidable wit and her sense of duty towards her family could not be faulted.
But it would be nothing compared to the heartache of losing Alex. She'd not met anyone like him and she knew in the depths of her soul she never would again.
She swiped at a tear and caught sight of the invitation. She picked it out of the salver but it was the rectangular pasteboard beneath that drew her attention. Lady Twickenham's name was printed in a decorative script in the centre. She must have called earlier but her card ha
d not yet been removed from the salver. She flipped over the calling card. On the back, in a flowing script were the words:
Hyde Park. 5 o'clock.
She glanced at the mahogany longcase clock. It had already gone five. Whoever the card was intended for was not meeting Lady Twickenham in Hyde Park today.
Despite everything, Georgiana felt a little better.
***
Georgiana dined alone in her room. Alex had gone with his family to the Duffields' party and despite her best efforts to not think about him, she couldn't help doing so. He barged into her thoughts, settled into an immovable stance and there he stayed as if he belonged.
Was he sitting beside one of the interchangeable Pinkerton sisters at the dinner table? Or the accomplished and freckled Miss Merriville? Was Lady Twickenham there? Odd how she didn't care if Lord Northbridge was in attendance, or Lord Twickenham or some other gentleman.
No, not really odd at all. She recognized the jealousy for what it was and wrapped it around herself. Tonight she could indulge in a little self-pity before tomorrow's inevitable sorrow sank in.
She went to bed early but couldn't sleep, which wasn't surprising. She had too much on her mind, like wondering how Alex would react, and thinking of ways to resurrect her career after Sir Oswyn destroyed it. What was surprising was how early Alex returned from the party. The soft knock on her door barely two hours after he'd left startled her out of her melancholy.
"You're in bed already," Alex said upon entering. He sounded like the boy who hadn't been selected for the cricket team.
"I hoped to get some sleep before you came home," she said. "But here you are."
"Yes. Here I am." A pulse jumped in her throat at the seductive promise in his tone.
He lit the candles on the mantelpiece and carried the candelabra to the dressing table nearer the bed. He remained standing, close enough that she could touch him. She did not. The flames deepened the shadows surrounding his eyes and swept up the hollow of his cheekbones. His full lips were drawn firmly together and his jaw could have been hewn from a cliff. There was something undeniably masculine about him, something dark and moody and very tempting.
The devil's in him tonight.
"You wished me to stay up and wait?" she asked.
"I hoped you would."
Her pulse leapt. "But that's not all?"
"No. I wanted you to come with me to the Duffields'. You were invited."
"I didn't wish to go."
He turned aside. The strong, beautiful profile frowned at the candelabra as if it were the source of his ills. Hair tumbled over his forehead and he appeared lost in the seductive dance of the flames.
She reached for his hand. "Stop pouting over not getting your own way and come to bed."
He chuckled ruefully and turned to her. The silvery blue gleam in his eyes matched the wicked curve of his mouth. Oh yes, the devil was definitely in him. It was up to her to tame it.
He clasped her hand and dropped to his knees beside the bed. "Whatever my lady wants."
She cupped his cheek just above the prickle of dark stubble. "Kiss me," she whispered.
He did.
Without breaking the kiss, he threw the covers back and pushed up her nightgown to her waist, exposing her. She opened for his hand and he slid two fingers into her wetness. His expert strokes delved and rubbed, pulling back when her body began to quiver, only to renew his teasing efforts. She writhed beneath him, arched her back whenever he retreated. She silently cursed him for turning her into a wanton, and cursed herself for allowing it to happen.
"Now," she begged. "Take me now."
He groaned and withdrew his fingers. She helped him out of his cravat, coat and waistcoat and somehow they got his boots and breeches off in seconds. His shirt remained on and he finally, finally, lowered himself onto her with a groan of pure desire. She barely registered the warmth and weight of his powerful body and then he was inside her, filling her, matching her rhythm with his own.
Their gazes locked and he slowed the pace, an excruciating yet wonderful thing that drove her to the edge of madness. She bunched his shirt up and stroked his shoulders, back and hips. She wanted to touch all of him, commit every glorious inch to memory. The way he felt and moved, the way he looked at her as if she was everything.
Her eyes burned with tears but she forced them away. Making love was not the time for crying. That would come later. Tomorrow.
She pulled him down and kissed him. Gentle. Insistent. And so very, very thorough. Slowly the pressure built inside her. She trembled with it and he held her against his powerful body, cradling her, possessing her. Claiming her.
With a strangled cry and deep shudder, he pulled out of her and spurted his seed over her stomach.
After he'd cleaned her, he lay beside her on his back. He breathed heavily but he wasn't asleep. He was unlikely to make that mistake again.
"Feel better?" she said, pulling him to her.
"Much." He nestled her against his long, muscular body and she rested her head on his chest. "I'm sorry I was angry with you for not coming to the Duffields'," he said. "I don't understand your decision but I won't argue with you again if you feel so strongly."
She toyed with the springy black hairs on his chest. "Thank you." But it didn't matter anyway. Not anymore. Nothing mattered except keeping Alex with her as long as possible—they had so little time left together.
Alex relished the languid warmth of Georgiana's body. It soaked into him, soothing his frayed temper and made him want to stay. There was no other place he wanted to be except beside her like this, naked and sated. Even so, he waited for her to say something about their meeting in his study that morning. He'd behaved abominably towards her and it had bothered him all day. She was only trying to do what she thought was best. She didn't know that understanding his nightmares was precisely what he didn't want to do.
He expected her to mention the nightmares again and invite him to spend the night with her but she didn't. Thankfully. He wanted to enjoy their love-making, enjoy her for as long as he could without the bleakness of his nightmares severing the newfound happiness.
But it was already coming to an end. He had to return to his own room before sleep overtook him. As it was, he battled against the very strong urge to remain in her arms and let slumber claim him.
Making love to her had been far more intense than their first time. It had been almost magical and other-worldly, as if they were connected in more than the physical sense and he'd seen into her soul.
Bloody hell, he was turning into a poetic fool. Northbridge would have a fit of laughter if he knew his friend was dribbling such nonsense over a woman.
And yet it described how Alex felt perfectly.
That alone was a deep concern. He was supposed to leave emotion out of the equation. Being with Georgiana was meant to be physical only.
But it wasn't. He must learn to accept that. The situation had changed between them. He felt so content when he was with her, so comfortable.
He kissed the top of her head then watched her face as she settled into sleep. The shadow of her long lashes formed a small crescent high on her cheek and her hair tumbled over her shoulder and across his chest like a river of silk. Her breathing slowed and her body slackened in his arms.
When he was certain she was sound asleep, he reluctantly extricated himself from her slender limbs. He brushed the hair from her forehead and stroked her cheek before dressing quietly. She murmured something unintelligible when he kissed her lightly but she didn't wake.
At the door he couldn't resist one more look. She was extraordinary, a rare gem.
And she's not going anywhere.
***
Georgiana awoke with a start. Alex was gone, but that was to be expected and it didn't explain the noise that had awoken her. She glanced around her room but it was difficult to see anything except silhouettes in the blanket of darkness. Alex must have extinguished the candles before he left and pulled the
covers over her.
Then she heard it. A light tap coming from outside her window, behind the closed drapes. It was followed by the sound of scraping wood.
Someone was trying to get in.
Her first instinct was to scream but it caught in her throat. She swallowed it and forced herself to think. Whoever was trying to break in was almost certainly the same person who'd tried to kill Alex. A simple thief wouldn't enter a house through a third floor window. As much as she wanted to run and alert the footmen, she didn't want to scare away the intruder. It could be the only opportunity she had of discovering his identity. Besides, by the time she'd woken the servants, he might have already found Alex's bedroom and...
No. No!
She would stay and take the intruder by surprise instead. It was a very good weapon to have in her arsenal.
A pistol, however, was a better one.
She leaped out of bed and opened her wardrobe door. She silently drew out the second-top drawer and felt beneath her shawl. Her hand shook as it enclosed the cool metal of the pistol's barrel. Thank God she'd replaced the one Alex had taken that first night. And thank God she'd loaded it with powder and ball.
She paused long enough to draw a deep breath to steady her nerves then slid back the safety, cocked the hammer which dropped down the trigger and aimed at the curtain.
The scrape of the window sash sliding open grated on her raw nerves but she held the pistol tight. The curtain, closed across the window, billowed into the room as it filled with the breeze. A light thud was almost lost amidst the heavier pounding of her heart.
The intruder was inside.
She calmed her racing pulse and held the pistol steady. She'd done this before, in practice only, and had proved to be a very fine shot. But the intruder wasn't a hay-stuffed target and they were not in a neighbor's field.
A gloved hand carefully parted the curtain and then a figure clad all in black emerged.
