by Anna Small
“Your brother will want you soon, Georgie. Baby Lockewood is on his or her way any day now. You shall have to go home. I’d love to hear you explain to your brother how you managed to spend the remainder of your holiday abroad sequestered in my palace of sin. Lady Richmond has probably composed a half dozen letters to him as we speak, informing him of our recent marriage.”
She ignored the last part of his sentence and sipped her tea instead. “You are correct. The baby will arrive, and I’ll have to go home.” Her heart sank, which confused her. She didn’t particularly care for France one way or the other. The food was wonderful, of course, and the countryside picturesque. But she would miss Jack’s humorous comments and the way he made her laugh.
She would miss him.
The thought shocked her enough that she upset her saucer when she placed her teacup on the table. Eventually, she would be someone’s wife. No self-respecting heiress would stay single when there was a family name to uphold. What if her brother’s other choices were worse than Herbert? She lowered her head for a moment to fight a wave of panic. There was only one possible solution to her quandary. It stood out before her in all its simplistic, obvious glory.
“Will you marry me, Jack?”
He stared at her as if she’d just announced she was a mermaid. “I’ve always admired your mischievous nature but never believed you to have such an absurd sense of humor as that, Georgiana.”
The thought grew in her mind the more she studied him. She almost smacked her forehead at the brilliance of her idea and only wondered why she hadn’t thought of it sooner. “It’s the perfect solution, for both of us. Do you not see?” Her voice rose in excitement. “You will be able to present a bride to your grandfather and keep your allowance, and Jonathan will abandon his list of suitable suitors, who are completely unsuitable. Lady Richmond can write a dozen letters, and they will not mean a thing.”
“I thought I told you earlier I would never marry. We were just discussing…”
“But it would be different with me.” She rose from her chair and hurried over to him, dropping to her knees and upsetting his cup when she gripped the tablecloth to steady herself. She took his hand and held it fiercely, as if she would press the idea into his skin. “I will not be the kind of wife you detest. You may box all you like, and drink, and make merry. I will never ask you where you’ve been, or with whom. We can even have separate homes.” Her voice rose in her excitement, while her plan formed before her in all its glorious simplicity. “You will have my dowry when I marry. All I ask is a lovely little house in town, or else in the country. It matters not. What does matter is I shall be left to myself, with my music and my own mind to command. You may live wherever you wish. Do as you wish. We are the best of friends and know each other well enough to leave each other alone. It’s the perfect arrangement, and you must say yes.”
She finished on a breathless plea. He glanced down at their entwined fingers. His jaw moved once or twice as if he were about to speak, but her heart sank when he shook his head.
“It will never work.”
“But why, Jack? You are so stubborn.” She pushed his hand away, not trying to hide her disappointment. “Give me one good reason.”
He dropped another spoonful of sugar into his tea and stirred it four times. He then added a slice of lemon into his cup, carefully removing a seed that floated on the top. She almost held her breath awaiting his response.
“Because you will fall in love with me, and there goes my freedom. It will be over between us before it starts.”
Her lips parted with a rush of air. “You are so conceited, Jack! I will never…”
He caught her hand as she struggled to her feet, her legs tangling in the twisted folds of her gown. “Listen to me, Georgiana.” He seldom used her full name and she reluctantly met his gaze, although she ensured her lower lip trembled.
He sighed. “I know you, my dear. You will say now it is for convenience, or we are great friends, or what have you. But eventually, you will be like every other woman who fancies herself married. You will begin questioning my whereabouts, and search my linen for any telltale scents of foreign perfume. You’ll beg to accompany me regardless of where I’m going, and you will put an end to my boxing.” As he spoke, she interjected with a few shakes of her head and verbal denials, but he only silenced her. “It will never work. You will be unhappy, and I shall be unhappy because I’ve made you so.” He brushed a wayward strand of hair from her hot cheek. “The last thing I ever want in this world is to hurt you.”
“You would prefer I marry a blithering fool, as you called it?”
His gray eyes darkened with a sudden shadow. “I would see you happily married to a loving man who deserves you.” He lifted his cup but did not drink. “I regret I am not that man, as would you, if you were so foolish as to see this idea of yours to the finish.”
She chewed her lip, her thoughts racing as she tried to change his mind. “What if I do not fall in love with you and our marriage is exactly as I promised? What if it really is possible for us to marry, and you may continue with your bachelorhood existence? Prizefighting and paramours from morning ’til night? And you may have all my money. I just want…” This time, her voice trembled of its own accord.
His eyes narrowed, and he finally drank his tea, draining it while he studied her, his face inscrutable. “I’d be wealthy beyond words with all your thousands. I’d be the happiest bachelor husband in all of England, with a beautiful wife who allows me to spend my days in idle pleasure, while she lolls around her pianoforte all day.”
Her breath hitched. “Does this mean you have changed your mind?”
He groaned, but she heard his stifled laughter. He scrubbed his face with his hands, then blinked at her as if he’d just awoken from a dream. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Use those big blue eyes of yours to get whatever you want? God help us should you ever use your powers of persuasion for evil deeds. It would be the end of the world.”
Her breath trapped in her throat. “So—it’s a yes?”
“Against my better judgment and my conscience screaming vividly into both my ears…” He paused for effect. “Yes.”
Laughing with delirious joy, she threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you! You have saved me yet again. Oh, Jack, you will not regret it!”
He patted her back then held her at arm’s length. “It is not so easy to marry here in France. Better we wait until our return to England.”
“We cannot wait, Jack! Jonathan will forbid it.”
“The laws of France require a bride be over the age of one and twenty. You are underage.”
“I shall lie.”
“To a priest?” His eyes were comically serious. “While I would love to help you, it just will not do. You need a guardian’s permission, and your brother, thankfully, is absent.”
Was he trying to change her mind? Frantic, she blurted out a name. “Aunt Adele is my legal guardian while abroad. She can give her permission.”
“That dear woman will not risk your brother’s wrath.”
Her one chance of escaping the future her brother planned was almost gone. “She will if you threaten her.” His eyebrows arched, and she hastened to explain. “I mean only if you tell her Jonathan must know about Alphonse abandoning me at the ball. She will do as you demand.”
“Machiavelli.” He shook his head, but the ghost of a smile lingered on his lips.
She held her breath and counted the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.
Eight seconds passed before he finally sighed. “Very well. But…” and he held up his finger when she reached for him, ready to embrace him. “There can be none of that, Georgie. If I’m to remain your husband-of-convenience, we shall keep our friendship intact. Any…intimacy will only confuse the matter.”
She gulped back her laughter and took her chair. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“It will just make it e
asier for us if we remain friends.” He paused. “And by us, I mean you.”
“Why just me? Is your heart made of stone, Jack Waverley?” She giggled but stifled it at the flash of pain that flickered across his face. Like a shadow fading in the dusk, she wasn’t sure she had seen it.
“Not stone. You would not be happy loving a man like me.”
She nearly sighed with relief. “Then you have nothing to worry about. I am not in love with you, and I promise not to fall in love with you, ever.”
“Good.” He cracked a wry grin. “And I swear never to fall in love with you.”
She’d hoped the very thing. Love and its wicked twin, jealousy, carried too much sorrow and despair. Besides, who needed love when one could live as free as one chose, able to come and go as she pleased? She wanted to leap for joy she would be spared any further heartache.
She would never have to endure the pain a man like Edward Mitford had caused. She would not have to sacrifice her soul by marrying someone like Herbert Richmond, either.
Jack was fun and full of life, and understood her heart and mind. What better husband could there be? Meeting Lady Richmond was the best possible answer to their mutual problems.
“So, Jack,” she said at length, relief pouring over her as fresh and bountiful as the tea in the pot, “are there any more gowns upstairs that would pass for a wedding dress?”
Chapter Fourteen
Georgiana waited for the elderly woman to regain her composure before releasing her hand. She’d only told Aunt Adele moments before about their sudden betrothal, and the poor dear looked as if she were about to faint. Not that she blamed her. Just hearing herself say the words aloud was madness.
After what seemed an interminable amount of time, Aunt Adele nodded slightly. “Forgive me, my dears. My head is spinning. I thought you were ill, and staying at Mr. Waverley’s because you were not strong enough to travel. I was in quite a dither when Alphonse returned home without you.” She fanned herself with a handkerchief. “Dear me, I hope I did not do wrong when I did not send for you directly.”
Her worried look turned into suspicion. Georgiana shook her head. “Jack was a complete gentleman, if you are concerned I was compromised. Indeed, my visit at the chateau only prompted feelings that have lain dormant for ever so long.” She gave Jack a meaningful look and he hastily agreed with her, although she wished he could refrain from giving such a sardonic smile.
Aunt Adele patted her chest as if she had to catch her breath. “You wish to marry Mr. Waverley, Georgiana?”
“Yes. Shall I send for some tea?”
“Thank you. I do feel a little out of sorts.”
“I’m not surprised,” Jack said wryly. “I confess I nearly fainted myself.” Georgiana gave him a warning look, but he only grinned.
“But why now, why here? Can you not wait until we return to England? Your brother will be most…” Aunt Adele hesitated, and Georgiana imagined all sorts of descriptive phrases regarding her brother’s reaction when he heard. “Disappointed.”
“Do not worry, Aunt Adele,” Georgiana said with more bravado than she felt. “Jonathan will not mind. After all, he wishes me to marry soon, and Jack is an old friend.”
“Which is why my death will be nice and slow, rather than swift and to the point,” Jack muttered.
“In any case,” Georgiana said, shooting him a warning look, “I must have your permission, since I am underage to marry in France. Will you help me?”
The older woman twisted her hands together and glanced around the parlor, as if help were on its way. “I…I do not know if I should.”
“I do not know which will alarm Jonathan more,” Jack said, smiling pleasantly as he sat beside Aunt Adele, “how you permitted Georgiana to go without a proper chaperone to a fiasco of a ball where she was nearly ravished, or that she has married a respectable gentleman.” He hesitated for only a moment. “Meaning myself, of course.”
“Oh, dear,” Aunt Adele murmured.
Georgiana pressed her from the other side. “Jonathan need never be told what happened at the ball. Will you grant your permission, Aunt Adele? It will mean the world to me.” If she had become too theatrical, she tried not to notice.
Aunt Adele glanced from one to the other and finally placed her hands over each of theirs. “Are you so in love you cannot wait? I know your mother would have wanted a fine wedding for you, Georgiana. Here, you have no friends, no relations, except for my sister and me.”
“It will be splendid,” she said quickly. “I have a lovely gown and bridal clothes. Besides, with my brother’s child on the way, I wouldn’t have time to plan something extravagant. All the attention is on the baby.” She hoped this final plea would work. Aunt Adele gave a drawn out sigh, and Georgiana couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about her part in duping the poor woman.
“What about love?” Aunt Adele glanced at Jack and appraised him with a sharp eye. “Do you protest your love for my niece? As much as I do like you, Mr. Waverley, you must admit this is highly irregular.” She chewed her lower lip, and the hand covering Georgiana’s trembled slightly. “Highly irregular.”
“I have always loved her,” he said firmly.
Georgiana gave a little start. She glanced at him, shyness striking her as if she were a wallflower at a ball.
His jaw seemed to tense for a second. He winked. “And she loves me. You may have no doubt of that, dear, dear Aunt Adele.” He lifted the woman’s hand and kissed it loudly.
At last, she nodded. “I suppose I cannot dissuade either of you. Georgiana will not bend once her mind is set.” Georgiana held her breath until she nodded again. “I grant my permission.”
“Thank you.” Georgiana flung her arms around her.
Aunt Adele returned her embrace, while Jack rose to order tea. “I only hope you do not have any regrets.”
“I won’t.” Georgiana looked quickly at Jack. “And neither will Jack.”
“Tomorrow at noon, then,” Jack said, and Georgiana beamed at him.
“Tomorrow.”
They sat with Aunt Adele for the remainder of the afternoon, discussing her plans to remain in France with her sister.
“You will have no further need of me once you have Mr. Waverley to protect you.” She dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
“But who will protect me from the charming Miss Lockewood?” Jack murmured, low enough so only Georgiana could hear.
She wanted to return his teasing, but his eyes glittered back at her like diamonds in a crystal bowl. The full realization she was about to tie herself to him for the rest of her life silenced her.
The remainder of the hour passed with Aunt Adele’s pleasant chatter about her future life in France, but Georgiana heard little. She couldn’t help but study Jack, noticing every tiny detail about him that had evaded her before. The curve of his ear was barely visible beneath his shaggy curls. His scarred hands were more noticeable when poking out from his white cuffs. She’d always thought him well built but had never noticed the muscular line of his legs, taut in his buckskin breeches.
A wedding day would mean a wedding night. Even if they were to maintain a companionable relationship rather than one based on love, they would not be truly married unless…
Something in her middle quivered, and she nearly faltered when Aunt Adele asked her a question.
“Yes,” she murmured in reply, staring at Jack’s bicep flexing beneath the taut wool sleeve of his coat when he reached for the teapot.
“Really?” Aunt Adele replied, sipping from her cup. “I thought you’d rather wait a year before starting a family.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Are you ready, Georgie? The priest won’t wait forever, you know.”
Jack paced the wide corridor, while tapping his fingers on his thigh and glancing at her door every few seconds. What could be keeping the girl? It wasn’t as if this were a state affair, or hundreds of guests were awaiting their arrival. She didn’t even have a
proper wedding gown, just something one of his paramours had left behind.
She’d found the peach-colored silk gown hanging in the back of the wardrobe and had fallen in love with the plunging neckline and yards of Belgian lace around the hem. Had it belonged to Danielle or Francine, another lady whose company he’d briefly enjoyed? He shook his head, slightly ashamed he could not remember the delicious creature with whom he’d spent a memorable fortnight.
He glanced at his reflection in a large mirror hanging in the corridor. Deep lines marked his forehead, which was a burnished golden color from careless years of outdoor sport. His coat was a little tight around the shoulders, and he knew it was from lack of exercise since being away from his boxing club. He slapped his hand on his abdomen and sucked in his stomach. Too much rich food. He spun around as a familiar giggle broke the silence.
“I never fancied you for a dandy.” Georgiana emerged from her chamber in a rustle of silk. Her ivory skin, flawless as an alabaster statue, glowed as if lit from within. The lowcut gown revealed more than a hint of cleavage, but she had tucked a lace-trimmed handkerchief in the front.
Marie apparently possessed the skills needed to arrange a lady’s hair, and she’d done a marvelous job on Georgiana, twisting her long, golden curls into a mass of spirals. Some were piled high on her head, fastened with his own jewelled stick pins, as she hadn’t travelled with any of the Lockewood jewels. He couldn’t help but stare at her; the full red lips, smiling at him with confidence and her eyes holding the slight look of adoration he’d noticed when he’d met her for the first time. She hadn’t given him a moment’s peace since.
“Have you lost your ability for speech?”
He marvelled at how much she had changed in the few years since they’d last met. She’d been all sugar and sweetness then, ready to bring him his favorite pudding when he and Jonathan returned from riding or some other sport. Once, she’d swiped a taste of the almond-flavored cream on a cake, leaving a smear on her face. He’d called her Pudding Face ever since. Where had the girl gone? In her place was a goddess, for all that she was unaware of the spell she cast on those around her.
