Georgiana swallowed hard. Somehow this funny, awkward fellow had made the most charming proposal and quite unsettled her. She gave her circumstances and her choices a good hard look. The man she loved could clearly never countenance the idea of a marriage between them with anything other than abhorrence. Beau was seductive and charming and kind and he'd be very easy to fall in love with if her broken heart ever recovered enough to make the attempt. But Beau would likely smash it to pieces all over again as he was the worst candidate for husband material that she could possibly consider.
He'd never be faithful to her and she'd have to accept she would never be his one and only love. Indeed love had never been something he'd even offered her and nor would he. She knew that much. Thanks to him too the scandal sheets were full of their shocking disappearance into the trees yesterday. Far worse than that though were the bets that history would repeat itself, that the two powerful men who were previously the closest friends were now rivals, and the affair would end inevitably by one murdering the other.
"I-I truly don't know what to say, my Lord," she replied, putting one hand to her cheek and finding her face hot. "I am more honoured than you can possibly imagine by your ... your quite wonderful proposal." She smiled at him, a genuine warm smile that grew as she saw the way his face lit with pleasure at seeing it. "I think you underestimate yourself, by the way. You really are terribly romantic."
He gave a startled little laugh, his eyes so full of hope that she felt very afraid. She didn't want to hurt this man by getting his hopes up but ... but he might be far better for her than any other offer she could hope to get and she did need to think about his proposal. At this point someone reliable and dependable, someone who wouldn't hurt her ... that sounded a rather wonderful thing. She looked at him again and knew she could never feel passion for him. She'd never feel the heated, desperate need to tear at his clothes and lose herself in his body, in his touch. But maybe that was all to the good. She'd experienced the destruction such furious emotions could wreak. Perhaps it was best avoided.
"Does that mean ..." he began, as if he hardly dared hope.
"I can't answer you yet, my Lord," she said, her free hand clutching the tapestry cover of the sofa she was perched on.
"P-Percy," he stammered, looking stunned beyond measure. "You may call me Percy."
She smiled at him and nodded. "Percy. You have given me such a lot to think about. But I must tell you ... the truth is ... m-my heart is ..."
"I know," he interrupted, squeezing her hand. "I know that your affections are otherwise engaged. That is ... I guessed as much. You needn't tell me anymore. But ... can I hope that you will consider my offer."
Georgiana took a deep breath and nodded. "I promise you. I will consider your offer with every seriousness, and I am very aware of the great honour you've done me, Percy."
He let out a breath, looking really rather overwhelmed and then, rather daringly, lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "Thank you, Georgiana," he said, his voice very soft. "But the honour is entirely mine. I will wait until you are ready to give me your answer but ... may I call on you again?"
"Why of course, Percy," she replied, smiling at him. "I should be very put out if you didn't."
Georgiana spent the rest of the morning going round and around in circles as she considered her options. If she looked at it dispassionately then Lord Nibley was the perfect solution to her situation. He had promised to take her travelling, something she had longed to do, and he'd said her happiness would always be his priority. She believed he meant it too. But her nature was a passionate one, something she had no doubt inherited with her red hair from the mother she had never known. But would marrying Percy mean that she would never experience the passion that she had felt with Sebastian again? That desperate need to join themselves together that had been so very overwhelming. She wanted to know how it felt, to lie with a man who loved you, or at the very least desired you as much as you did them.
"Oh God," she muttered and put her head in her hands. She looked up as her abigail scratched at the door and popped her head around.
"There's a gentleman here to see you," she hissed, her eyes alight with excitement.
"Oh? Who is it, Sarah?" Georgiana replied, though from the blush on the girl's cheeks she'd lay money that she could guess the answer.
"The Marquis of Beaumont," she replied with a dreamy sigh that made Georgiana snort with amusement.
"Very well, I'll come down."
"Not like that!" Sarah exclaimed, suddenly all business. "You're not seeing him afore you've changed your dress, my Lady! And you in your plainest dress. Goodness me, I should think not. Besides he's talking to Lord Falmouth."
"He is?" Georgiana exclaimed in astonishment.
"Yes he is," Sarah said, wrestling her out of the modest dress that had been good enough for Lord Nibley, and turning to her wardrobe with a squeal of glee. "Two proposals in one day I reckon, my Lady! Oh what a conquest you've made."
"My bank balance has made, you mean," Georgiana said with a snort as she stepped into the fine Indian muslin gown that had been selected for her.
"Nonsense," her indignant abigail snapped at her as she did up the laces at the back of her dress. "Lord Nibley is rich enough to buy an abbey but he runs for cover whenever women try and target him, everyone knows that. Shy he is, but he found his courage for you, my Lady, didn't he?" she demanded, to which Georgiana had no answer that could help.
She allowed Sarah to primp and fuss her until she caught a glimpse of herself in the glass and gave a gasp at the amount of décolletage on show in the low cut gown. "Good heavens, Sarah! What have you put me in? Aren't I in enough trouble already?"
"Not sure you could ever get in enough trouble with Beau Beaumont, my Lady," her amused abigail retorted with a smirk.
"Give me that fichu this instant," she demanded, narrowing her eyes at her maid as the girl returned a mutinous glint.
"Shan't," she replied, holding the gauzy scarf behind her back and standing guard in front of the drawers where such items were kept. "I've got a reputation to consider and you're not going to receive a proposal from the Marquis looking like an old maid. And that's final," she added with a sniff.
"Oh, well as long as your reputation doesn't suffer!" Georgiana replied with a huff and allowed herself to be ushered out the door.
"Oh do hurry miss, you've kept him waiting long enough!"
"I've kept him waiting? Well I like that ..."
But by the time she was practically forced through the door of the drawing room it was clear Beau had indeed been kicking his heels for some time. He turned and smiled at her, one eyebrow raised.
"I was beginning to think you'd escaped via a back door to avoid me?" he said, the usual twinkling of warmth in his blue eyes as he looked her over with appreciation. "Though if this is what I was waiting for I heartily approve. You may give your abigail my deepest appreciation."
"I'll be sure to do that, my Lord," she replied, wondering if the wretched creature was listening outside the door.
He crossed the room and lifted her hand to his lips kissing her fingers and then, slowly sliding his hands over her skin as he turned her arm and kissed the inside of her wrist. Her heart immediately picked up speed and everything she had been considering earlier about passion came to clarity before her eyes. Percy would never, could never, make her feel like this.
"I've thought of nothing else but you since yesterday," he murmured, pulling her arm and hooking it about his neck as his other arm snaked around her waist. Suddenly their bodies were flush and she gasped at him.
"If Lord Falmouth comes in ..."
"Oh but he won't," he replied, smirking. "Even a bounder like myself should be allowed to make a formal offer in private, don't you think?"
She felt her breath catch, he really meant it this time. He'd proposed before but this time, he'd spoken to Falmouth, he'd come to her home. He was announcing to the ton that his interest was s
erious. He was saving her reputation.
"You've spoken to Lord Falmouth?" she replied, a trifle unsteady.
"Yes," he said, smiling at her while one hand cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her lower lip with a soft caress. "He's not enamoured of the idea but better me than Sindalton, for obvious reasons," he said, with a shrug as his other hand slid to the small of her back and pressed her against him. "Though it appears I am not the only one in the running after all. Who'd have thought old Percy had it in him, a dark horse indeed."
"It's always the quiet ones you have to watch," she replied, dismayed by the breathless sound of her voice but he'd pulled her very close indeed and his desire for her was only too obvious.
"You don't want, Percy," he replied, ducking his head and kissing the tender skin between her neck and her shoulder. She gasped and before she could think clearly about it one hand had sunk into the thick warmth of his golden hair as the other clutched at his shoulder. "You're too much for Percy, sweet Eve," he murmured, nipping at her earlobe as he moved her until her back hit a wall. "You'd frighten him if he saw even a glimmer of everything you want."
"And what do I want?" she asked, wanting to know what it was he saw in her.
His laughter rumbled through his chest and he looked down at her with knowing in his eyes. "You want to experience life, you want to feel love and passion, desire ...” He nipped at her lower lip and then kissed it, his words breathing against her mouth. "You want to give in to lust and tear at my clothes. You want me to take you right here and now ... it burns in your eyes, darling, did you know that?"
His hands dropped to her hips and he pressed against her, the hard length of his strong thigh sliding between her legs and pressing unerringly against the delicate nub of flesh that was crying out for attention. She moaned and then buried her face against his shoulder as shame flooded her.
"Oh, Georgiana," he whispered, his mouth gliding over her skin as his hot breath fluttered over her neck. "We could set the world alight, you and I."
She shook her head, but what kind of answer she was giving she didn't know.
He stilled and held her face in his hands. "How can you decide whether you'll marry me or Percy unless you know what it means?" he said as though reading her thoughts, his eyes serious now. "You will never have passion with dear old Nibley. We both know that. Let me give you a small taste of what you'll be missing. Let me show you how I can make you feel."
"B-but we can't do this ... here!" she protested, but Beau just grinned at her, devilry sparkling in his eyes.
"Oh, darling, I could do this anywhere," he said, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. "But I told you, we are being given privacy for my proposal. No one will interrupt us, I promise you."
He kissed her then, a kiss that heated her skin and made her shiver at one and the same time and she knew the truth of his words. She gasped as his large hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs teasing the nipples through the chemise that covered them.
Georgiana let her head drop back against the wall as pleasure spiked through her, the heat of his mouth against her neck. Her thoughts seemed more muddled than ever. Beau was simply temptation incarnate. She couldn't deny her attraction to him, couldn't deny that she liked him, was fond of him even but ... but ...
"No more," she said, her voice unsteady, pushing him away. "You've made your point."
Beau smiled and brushed a last kiss against her lips.
"I can't pretend to have any riches to bestow on you," he said a moment later, his voice quiet, and she looked up to see he had crossed the room. He was standing looking outside at the street below, his face uncharacteristically serious. "I can't pretend that I don't need your finances, and I won't insult you by pretending that isn't so. But if you think I'm unmoved by you, if you think that any of my ... seduction is in any way forced, you are very wrong indeed."
He turned to look at her and she could see the truth of his desire still burning in those usually cool eyes. "I want you in my bed, Georgiana and if you agree to be my wife I swear you'll not be disappointed. I can't pretend that I'm ideal husband material, we both know I'm not and I won't make any promises that are doomed to failure. But ..." He moved closer to her and held her hand, his fingers closing around hers. "But you are my friend, my very dear friend and you have my word that I will try very hard not to make you unhappy. I might even succeed in making you happy," he added with a slightly self deprecating smile. "I promise at least, that I will try." He leaned into her and kissed her cheek, just close enough to her mouth to make her heart thud again. "Please, Georgiana, say you'll marry me."
She pulled her hand from his grasp and walked away. Oh God, what was she to do. The only man she truly wanted a proposal from wasn't even here, and the other two ... how long could she keep them waiting for?
"I don't know," she said, feeling helpless and powerless to do anything about it. "I don't know what to do for the best. Sometimes I think I'd be best to marry no one at all and just become some odd little eccentric. I could travel the world alone, or keep cats or ... or ..."
She jolted as his hand closed around hers once again.
"That would be a terrible waste, Georgiana," he whispered. "You need to live, and you need to choose how. You can be safe and probably content enough with dull, sweet Percy. You could allow Sindalton to offer you a carte blanche and be near the man you love without ever truly being a part of his world. Or you can marry me, and I promise you this at least, you will always have the protection of my name, and life will never, ever be dull."
She gave an unsteady laugh of acknowledgement. That was something she could readily believe.
"I need an answer soon, darling," he said softly. "You don't know how it grieves me to admit it but I owe money to some people that I'd really rather not cross, and if you won't have me my options are becoming rather terrifyingly limited."
She looked up at him in alarm. "You're in real trouble?" she asked, seeing the answer in his eyes.
He nodded. "I am, so please, don't delay. If the answer is no I may need to run for the continent or spend the next five years or so in rather unpleasant circumstances." It was said with a light and jovial tone that she didn't for an instant believe. He kissed her cheek again, with warmth in his expression. "Don't keep me in an agony of suspense, sweet Eve. Say yes and put us all out of our misery."
Chapter 26
"Wherein love is given a chance to hope ..."
Lord Falmouth looked up in surprise as she entered the breakfast room.
"I know, a ridiculous time of the day to be up," she said by way of apology. "And I expect you were looking forward to a peaceful breakfast alone."
He chuckled and shook his head, folding the paper he had been reading and putting it aside. "Not at all," he replied. "You know perfectly well I usually join Céleste at a later hour, but as it happens she is feeling a trifle under the weather at the moment," he replied, concern in his grey eyes. "Just a bit of a headache I understand. She'll be up presently I'm sure." He gave her a rather searching look and she braced herself for his question.
"I take it you didn't sleep well?"
"Not a wink," she replied with a bleak smile as she poured herself a cup of chocolate. She was tired beyond measure, the whole night spent tossing and turning as variations of her possible futures paraded behind her eyelids and made sleep impossible.
"I am not the slightest bit surprised. I don't envy you the choice."
She laughed and shook her head. One of the things she had found rather intimidating about the man opposite her was his rather forthright nature, but she had come to appreciate it. You knew where you stood with a man like that. "Well if it comes to that neither do I!" she replied with some asperity.
He chuckled again and then gave her a more concerned glance. "Seriously now, have you any idea to accept either of them?"
"Yes, no ... I don't know," she replied with a grimace. "There you see, my reasoning."
"Hmmm," he replied. "I'd be bound to say
, I'd rather you accept Nibley. He's a decent man, a kind one. He'd make you a good husband."
"Yes," she said, "I know that."
"But ..." he added, and there was a glimmer in his eyes that made her believe he knew exactly her dilemma. Given the passionate nature she'd come to know his wife possessed she found that wasn't as embarrassing as it might have been.
"But," she repeated nodding her head. "You have it in a nutshell."
They ate their breakfast in companionable silence for a while, until he spoke again.
"I'm going to Hatchard's this morning," he said, surprising her. "My sister-in-law Henrietta is desperate for some new English titles, she lives in France you see. So I promised to send a parcel to her, and I rather fancied a browse myself. I find it relaxing," he added, smiling at her. "Would you like to accompany me?"
"What a wonderful idea," she replied, grateful for anything that distracted her attention from her troubles for an hour or two.
"It also has the added attraction of being practically empty at this early hour as all the fashionable people are still abed."
"Better and better, my Lord," she said, grinning at him.
He smiled and nodded at her. "My carriage will be ready in ten minutes, oh, and Georgiana?"
"Yes, my Lord?"
"I think perhaps you might call me Alex."
Georgiana spent a pleasant hour browsing the shelves and wandering around by herself. Alex had been quite correct, the place was deserted and was a wonderfully peaceful place to be. She was walking along one of the upper levels, a thin balustrade overlooked the floor below and at the end of the long room was a beautiful arched window. Leaning against the frame of the window, a book held in his hands, stood a tall, dark figure that made Georgiana's heart leap in her chest.
She carried on along the walkway, observing the look of concentration on his face. A slight frown furrowed his brow as though something didn't make sense to him, though she was just as taken by the way the sunlight glinted on his deep brown hair, showing glints of chestnut and bronze. From her lofty vantage point she could look down on him without being observed, and she leaned over the balcony a little, trying to observe what it was that was causing him such consternation. The title of the poem he was reading leapt out at her and made her catch her breath. The Corsair.
Scandal's Daughter Page 19
