by Anna Small
“I asked you to take me away. Do you remember, Jack?”
He laughed so softly she was barely aware of it, except that the bed moved a bit. “Yes. I asked you where, and you told me there was a castle in one of your storybooks, and you wanted me to find it. I think the boy in the book was named Jack, and you thought I was him.”
“No, that wasn’t it. I knew you weren’t a prince from a book. I just wanted to go away with you.”
“I wanted to care for you, Georgiana. I think a part of me was waiting for you to grow up, so I could marry you.” He captured her hand that stroked his hair. His lips brushed across her palm, then held her open hand against his face. “I should have asked you to marry me, Georgie,” he murmured. “And not in that silly way you proposed to me, but a proper proposal. You deserve it.”
Her heart filled her throat. She inhaled slowly. “Then ask me.”
He released her hand and plucked the nightcap off her head. “If you’re to share a bed with me, no more nightcaps.” He tossed it over his shoulder.
She stifled a laugh. “I thought you were going to propose, Jack Waverley! Or should I say, Ambrose. Your grandfather told me you were named after him.”
“Nobody calls me that and lives.”
“I am still breathing.” A bold recklessness overcame her, and she wriggled as close as she could to him. Her thin lawn nightrail and his fine linen shirt allowed her to absorb the heat emanating from him. He instantly reacted by lifting his leg over hers and sliding his arm beneath her.
“I have another condition, Georgie.” He toyed with her neck ribbon, pulling it free. With a single nudge of his hand, her nightgown slid off her shoulder, which he then kissed. His feather light touch drew a long sigh from her.
“What is it, Ambrose?”
“No more nightclothes. Ever.”
She pulled away to gaze into his eyes. They were glassy in the moonlight, and his mouth looked red and full. She skimmed his lips with her fingertips, and his eyelids lowered. “I shall have to remember your requirements.”
“Please do.”
His words cut off when she parted her lips to his insistent mouth. The rest of the night passed in a blur of murmured sighs and soft moans, gentle kisses and caressing hands, until she realized he had never mentioned the word love, but he wanted her. It was all he protested he was capable of.
Fortunately, she did not believe a whit of it.
****
“You are welcome to visit anytime,” his grandfather said to them a week later as they prepared to leave. The days had flown by, and Jack was surprised he’d actually enjoyed his grandfather’s company. Once they got blame and regret out of the way, they’d actually had a conversation about the state of the vignoble. He suspected the old man was pleased with his work in Bordeaux, but would never admit it.
“Thank you, Grandfather. We will.” As they shook hands, the old man unexpectedly clasped his fingers in a tight squeeze. He turned to Georgiana.
“I enjoyed listening to you play. Perhaps next time, you and Jack will play a duet. I seem to recall Jack had a rather good ear.”
“You never heard me play,” Jack said almost petulantly. “I learned at school, with a private master.”
“And who do you think paid for that private master?” he growled. He shook his head and sighed. “We must learn not to quarrel every time we see each other, Jack.”
Georgiana was giving him a miniscule nod of encouragement, and he was forced to relent. “Agreed.”
“Kiss an old man,” his grandfather instructed her, and Jack couldn’t help but smile as his wife leaned into the old man’s embrace and kissed his cheek. “Take care of my boy,” he said rather gruffly and handed Georgiana a small velvet pouch. “You may as well have these. They are part of the family collection. You shall have the rest upon my death, when Jack inherits all that I worked hard to achieve.”
Jack bit his tongue to avoid responding in kind but noticed the corner of his grandfather’s eye twitching in a wink. Stifling a grin, he turned to his wife, whose face revealed the pleasure felt by both of them at the gesture. He had wanted to ask for his mother’s jewelry but feared his grandfather would accuse him of wanting to sell it. Georgiana emptied the pouch into her palm, displaying the blue diamond earrings and gold bracelets Jack knew so well. He had the ruby ring tucked inside his waistcoat and intended to give it to her once they were alone.
“They are beautiful,” Georgiana said in a hushed voice. Her eyes sparkled with tears to match the glittering diamonds. “Thank you.” She kissed his grandfather again and gave Jack a smile that went straight through his heart. “You must come to visit us in town, Grandfather Waverley,” she began, but he shook his head.
“You don’t want an old man underfoot, my dear. Especially when you are setting up housekeeping together, so recently wed.”
“Yes, sir, please come. Perhaps you may attend me at one of my boxing dens and watch me rearrange some other man’s nose.”
Painful silence filled the air around them. Georgiana paled, but his grandfather’s cheeks reddened. For a moment, Jack feared he would have a heart attack, but his grandfather embraced him tightly, laughing so hard he wheezed.
“I will! Jack, I will come and see you.” He wiped the corners of his eyes and motioned them into the coach. “Godspeed and congratulations to both of you! Jack, you remember how to write, do you not? Goodbye, my dear girl! Take care of our boy!”
Jack sat back against the coach cushions with a loud heaving of breath. Georgiana was still laughing, and he handed her his handkerchief to wipe her streaming eyes.
“That went better than I thought it would,” he muttered, kissing her before she could say she’d told him so.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Fancy you, Miss Pudding Face—the owner of her very own home.”
Jack surveyed the newly furnished parlor of Aunt Adele’s Kensington Gardens townhouse. Despite his affirmation the house was her sole possession, legally, it belonged to him. Georgiana had delighted in his solemn presentation of the keys to the property once they were out of the bank and in the new carriage she’d purchased. She’d wanted Jack to share in her newfound wealth, but he politely refused, reminding her again of their original agreement and insisting she need not give him a farthing.
Instead of being relieved everything was turning out the way they’d planned, she was melancholy. Somehow, it didn’t seem right to be married yet so completely independent of her husband.
Since leaving Stoughton Park, they’d settled in Aunt Adele’s townhome. At least, she had. Jack was staying at the Albany. Now, after a separation of a few days while he was purportedly involved with his grandfather’s business ventures in town, they were together again. She’d missed him more than she wanted to admit. She wanted to run to him when he stomped up the stairs to her parlor but didn’t wish to give her new servants fodder for gossip. She picked up an embroidered pillow from a chair and tossed it at him.
“If you are not nice to me, I shall have you thrown out. My new coachman, Roberts, looks as strong as you.”
“Oh, really? As strong as me?” He cocked an eyebrow and peered toward the half-opened doorway into the corridor. “Send the blighter in to have a round. I’ll wager a kiss from your tasty lips I can beat him.”
She shook her head. “There will be no fighting here, my dear husband.”
“In that case,” he began. He stretched out on the settee. “If there is no fighting allowed, what shall be permitted? I am speaking of when you summon me once a week to service your insatiable appetite, madam.”
“Summoned here once a week?” she sputtered.
He bowed his head. “Forgive me. I will come more frequently to indulge you.”
She fidgeted with the teapot so he wouldn’t see her agitation. He’d announced earlier he could only stay an hour due to pressing business, and the time was almost up.
“Indulge my appetites? Ha!” She swept across the room to the window and
opened it. A bee flew from its leafy perch and buzzed about her nose. She quickly closed the window and turned around to face him. He looked as if he had no intention of going anywhere.
“You must admit, Georgie: our arrangement benefits you as delightfully as it does me.”
“I would never be so base as to admit it.”
He pulled the pillow from his face and regarded her with a smirk. “But you do admit it?” He rose to his feet and sauntered over to her, while she backed up against the wall. He was too close, towering over her with his spicy scent invading her nose and his fingers toying with the pendant around her throat. She tried to move, but he blocked her by planting both his hands on the wall, trapping her.
“You have no sense of boundaries, Mr. Waverley.” She pressed her hands against his chest, but the feel of his heart pounding against her palms awakened a similar sensation in her body. She glanced up at him and realized the moment she did it was a terrible mistake.
His gray eyes gleamed like silver moonbeams. His lips were full and moist, and slightly parted in a grin. It was not his usual, teasing grin. It was the grin that always appeared right before he…
He didn’t kiss her. She scowled. “Haven’t you got your own home to see to, Jack? I’m sure there are all levels of female servants in your employ who miss their generous benefactor.”
His amusement only deepened. “Why, yes, indeed I do. But my rooms are infinitely smaller and dingier than this place. Besides, I rather like the view in your house.”
She sniffed with disdain, but her heart had begun hammering in her ears. “You mean the view from my house. You can stand all day by my window and look at the pretty girls strolling through the park.”
“No, I meant in your house.” His hand left her pendant, and he twisted his finger around one of her long curls that draped over her shoulder. “There is a living, breathing statue right in this very room. I must inform the British Museum immediately and advise them of its location. Some blackguard has stolen their most prized possession and supplanted it in Kensington.”
“Such a pretty speech. Tell me, Jack—have you always had to resort to lying in order to have your way with women?”
She hadn’t meant to sound so brusque, but the entire arrangement seemed so sordid and troubling now. Her mentioning of his household filled with willing servant girls only added to her heartache. She wondered if he really did keep a bevy of maidens for that very purpose.
His brow furrowed though his smile remained intact. “You don’t want me to go. Just say the word, and I’ll stay.” His voice was so low she wondered if she’d heard him correctly.
Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t care what you do. Go or stay, it matters not. As you said before, we are merely friends helping each other in a mutually satisfactory situation.” Her hands remained on his chest. She glanced at his torso. She’d twisted her fingers in the fabric of his waistcoat.
“Friends. Well, when you explain our relationship like that, it does seem unpleasant. Hmm.”
His breath warmed her cheek. His eyelids lowered, and she gasped her objection, but no words came. Against her will, her feet rose on tiptoe and she leaned into his solid frame, his desire evident in the pressure against her thighs. She’d released his waistcoat and now gripped him around the neck, desperate for his lips, which seared hers when they met.
The clock chimed loudly behind her, and she jumped. He licked his lips, sealing in her kiss.
“I do have to leave, my charming friend with whom I’m pleasurably linked in name and bed only. But, if you like”—he stepped out of her embrace and straightened his coat—“we can meet at Lord Hetherington’s masque this evening. Lockewood told me you were going with him and the missus.”
She bristled, although she was secretly relieved her brother had invited him. She’d thought of making an excuse to Sophie about preferring to stay home, but now Jack was going, she wanted to go with him. It would be their first appearance as a married couple. She nodded.
“I’ll see you at nine, then. Try not to miss me too much.” He kissed her before she could object to his presumption.
She remained against the wall, her body aching with frustrated passion. “If I’m not otherwise preoccupied, I may come.” She frowned. “But how will I find you if it’s a masque?”
He paused at the door. “You will know me. I’ll be the one with his heart on his sleeve.”
She ran to the window to watch his carriage depart. What a strange costume he would have, with a heart decorating the sleeve! What manner of disguise was that? And what would she wear? Nothing in her wardrobe was suitable for a masque. Perhaps Sophie had a costume she could borrow.
As the carriage rounded the corner, he leaned out and waved. She waved back, frowning when she realized he’d known she would watch for him. Even so, she waited until he was out of sight before she turned from the window.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Georgiana entered Lord Hetherington’s home on Jonathan’s left arm, with Sophie on his right. The noisy chatter and laughter of the other guests distracted her from the restless feeling she’d had since Jack’s departure. Her beaded mask tilted over her face, and she straightened it with a shove. Sophie had insisted on costumes reminiscent of the ousted French aristocracy, and Georgiana didn’t know how she would maneuver the powdered wig reaching a good foot above her head. Not to mention, the wide panniers made entering a room the same time as the similarly costumed Sophie out of the question.
“Where is Jack?” Jonathan asked, too loudly.
Sophie patted Georgiana’s hand. “Ignore him, dearest. He’s irritable ever since he kissed Sebastian good night.”
“I am not. I agree with you we need to separate ourselves from the bonny boy from time to time.” His tone belied his words.
Georgiana would have returned Sophie’s grin, but she was too anxious herself to be concerned with the new father’s problems.
She searched the room, holding onto her brother’s arm to rise on tiptoe, but there were too many people to find one man amongst the crowd. None of the men present matched him in breadth and height, nor were any costumed with hearts or any other organ on their sleeves. She wanted to abandon her party to search him out, but Jonathan detained her.
“I saw Jack at White’s this afternoon. Is he not staying at Kensington with you?”
She’d always detested Jonathan’s direct approach. With an airy shrug, she gave him her brightest smile. “He is keeping his set at the Albany to keep him close to his grandfather’s affairs.” Even to her ears, it sounded contrived.
Jonathan sniffed. “How convenient. I wanted to speak to him about it this afternoon, but…”
“Oh, please, Jonathan, do not!” She shook his arm. “Why can you not let us be?”
Sophie silenced them with a look that was neither critical nor censuring. Georgiana always marveled at her sister-in-law’s ability to calm any situation, especially when it involved two of the hottest tempers in the family.
“Very well.” Jonathan accepted defeat. He led them toward the main ballroom where a waltz already played. “Are you certain Jack is meeting you?”
“He must have been detained.” Her face burned at Jonathan’s direct stare. She shrugged, hoping to lighten his mood. “He will be here. He promised.”
“Oh, well, then! Since he promised, he’s sure to come.”
“Why so surly, darling?” Sophie patted his cheek, giving a wink to Georgiana. “This is our first night away from the baby. Let us enjoy it.”
“Speaking of babies, Georgiana, I wanted to ask you about your plans.” His eyebrow arched.
Georgiana glanced around the ballroom. Everyone else was dancing, eating, or drinking. Why could her family not have one pleasant evening? Ever since she came home from France a married woman, she’d had nothing but trouble.
“What are you implying, my dear brother?” she asked sweetly.
“I am still trying to reconcile the fact you are a marr
ied woman now. You declined having a season because of your supposedly fragile state after that despicable affair. You swore you would never fall in love, and I heard the same such affirmation from Jack. Yet, here you are, married, after a few months together in France. A pair of babies, both of you. Playing at a fantastic game.” He shook his head and glanced at Sophie. “You remember, Sophie. Threatening to join a convent rather than consider marriage.” He turned to Georgiana again. By now, she wished she could sink into the floor. “I don’t know how you convinced Jack to throw off the mantle of bachelorhood, Georgiana.”
“Why must I have convinced him of anything? Why could he not have come up with the idea himself?”
“They are in love, Jonathan,” Sophie interjected.
Jonathan raised his hand. “My old friend has always done exactly what Georgiana wants him to do. She’s dangled him from her little finger since the first time they met.”
“In that case,” Sophie said gently, taking his arm and linking her fingers around it, “let him continue to be swayed by the woman he loves.”
Georgiana wanted to rage against their observations. Jonathan’s ideas were too extreme. Sophie’s were a fantasy she only wished were true. If she could control Jack, as Jonathan surmised, why was he not here, as promised? Lord knew whom he was with at this very moment, while she faced her brother’s accusations.
Sophie’s excited gasp broke the silence growing between them. “My dear, do you see the woman who just arrived? The one in the feathers and flounces?” Her voice rose in delight. “Is she not Mrs. Leister, the famous actress?”
Relieved the conversation had turned from her, Georgiana followed Sophie’s gaze.
If she were not an actress or someone equally as flamboyant, the woman certainly had an intriguing sense of fashion. She was dressed from head to toe in violet silk, a headdress of black feathers gleaming against her raven-wing hair. A small crowd engulfed her. Jonathan’s face flushed as scarlet as his waistcoat. He looked as if he’d walk away, but Sophie prodded him.
“I wonder if we may say hello. I did so admire her in Agamemnon last year.”
