by Jane Ashford
“No, no. That was my idea entirely. But when I was trying to find a way to catch your attention, in that dashed crowd of fellows always jostling around you, she told me to ask questions.”
“Questions,” repeated Georgina, as if the word was new to her.
“About your opinions and…and aspirations,” he added, remembering one of Ariel’s expressions. Best to make a clean breast of this part, he decided, now that he’d begun. “She gave me some questions to start with,” he admitted. “But then she said I had to think up my own.”
Georgina looked surprised. Beyond that, he couldn’t tell. She didn’t seem angry.
“It was hard going, I can tell you. I started hanging about the brainy fellows at my club.” And hadn’t they been astonished? They’d finally assumed it was for some joke or wager.
Georgina laughed.
Encouraged, Sebastian said, “But as I kept on, one thing built on another, and it started to feel like…” He nearly panicked. Words threatened to desert him in their usual, frustrating way. Then he had it. “Like moving from a trot to a canter. Natural. And I wanted to hear what else you’d say. It was…a wonder, the way your mind worked.”
“You exaggerate,” she said, her cheeks a bit flushed.
“No, I don’t. Everyone knows you’re the clever one. I’ve no pretensions to intellect.”
“Nonsense.”
It was an opening. He could go on and tell her the rest. But she was looking at him with such tenderness. He couldn’t risk losing that.
“I didn’t start to fall in love with you because you asked questions,” said Georgina then.
Had she said “fall in love”?
“That began when I noticed that you really listened to what I said in reply.”
She had said it, hadn’t she?
“Most men simply endure a woman’s remarks, you know, waiting for us to stop talking so that they can enjoy the sound of their own voices once again.”
“Did you say ‘fall in love’?” Sebastian finally managed.
Looking suddenly less certain, Georgina nodded.
“You can love a slowtop like me?”
“You constantly underestimate yourself, Sebastian. You must stop it. Of course I can. And do.”
This was breathtaking, astonishing. By some magic, he’d won not just her hand but her love as well. He swept her into his arms. Or perhaps she threw herself into them. The movement was so mutual that it wasn’t clear. The kiss that followed burned with passion, ached with tenderness, and dizzied with a new element that was far more than both.
Kiss followed kiss. Hands roamed, and bodies arched and strained. And then Georgina was sitting on the edge of the billiard table, and he was standing between her knees, pushing up her skirts. “Wait,” Sebastian said, panting. “We must stop this.” He started to step back.
“No, we must not!” Georgina commanded, pulling him closer.
“Someone could come in,” he said.
“No one ever comes here.”
“Randolph and I did,” he pointed out.
“No one else.”
“He knows I’m in here.”
“He won’t return, not after the look I gave him.” She smiled and tugged Sebastian nearer.
He was torn between raging desire and the need to protect her. “What if your father wanted those papers? Or Hilda? She seems to pop up just when she’s least wanted.”
“Drat Hilda.” But Georgina frowned. “Oh, Sebastian, I want you so,” she whispered.
“Wait.” Sebastian strode over to the double doors. They had locks, but no keys. He looked around, found two small gilt chairs in a corner, and jammed one under each knob. They wouldn’t hold under a determined assault, but they’d certainly give warning if anyone tried to enter. “You should have a silken bower,” he said when he returned to his love.
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I prefer a bed of bracken. Or this. It’s…thrilling.”
And then she wrapped her legs around him as well, and every vestige of hesitation, or control, dissolved. Sebastian was washed by a white heat that drove all else before it. He slid his hands along the soft skin of her inner thighs, pushing her skirts away until he could make her gasp with pleasure. She kissed him more deeply and busied her fingers with the fastenings of his breeches. In moments, they were free to meet in ecstasy. Sebastian had never experienced such a combination of arousal and emotion. When she cried out his name, he felt like a man who’d won a hundred medals.
He continued to hold her as their breathing gradually slowed. She was lithe and soft and infinitely precious in his arms.
“I love you so,” she murmured in his ear.
“I love you,” he replied.
Georgina raised her head from his shoulder and smiled at him. “And I’ll never look at this billiard table in the same way again,” she added.
Sebastian laughed with pure joy.
“It will be our secret,” she said with a provocative smile.
Sebastian drew back slightly at the word. But wasn’t love enough? Many things could be overcome by love.
After a while, Georgina slipped off the table. They helped each other straighten disordered clothing and smooth tousled hair. “I shall be doing this for years and years,” she said as she adjusted his neckcloth, “making sure you are ready for public view.” She ended her ministrations with a tender kiss.
Feeling the broad smile on his face, Sebastian went to remove the chairs. He opened one door and found the corridor outside empty. Holding out a hand, he led his love from the never-to-be-the-same billiard room. Could he actually play a game with his father there after this?
They saw no one as they returned to the main part of the castle. It was a miracle, Georgina thought, that her mother hadn’t sent someone to find her. Finally, just outside the entry hall, they heard voices.
“I cannot believe you would have been so unobliging,” said Hilda.
“It was not a matter of being obliging,” answered Randolph.
“And to save your own brother, too. Could you have been so selfish? I could not, if I had been able to help my sister in any way whatsoever.”
Georgina started forward to the rescue, but Sebastian put a restraining hand on her arm. When she looked up, surprised, she saw that his eyes were twinkling.
“As I have explained to you, more than once,” Randolph said, “I could not ignore legalities just because my own family was involved.”
“Oh, legalities,” interrupted Hilda, her low opinion of such things clear in her voice. “I’m sure you could have cajoled it out of them.”
“I…cajole…the Archbishop of Canterbury?”
“If you had wished to,” Hilda said.
“I most certainly could not, not after the way that he and I… And in any case, I did not wish to, and…and none of this matters any more. The difficulties about the wedding have been resolved.”
“You’re enjoying this,” Georgina whispered.
“I’ve never seen anyone out-argue Randolph,” Sebastian murmured. “But if anyone can, it’s Hilda.”
“What if I’d threatened to write the archbishop and tell him that you’ve been participating in bizarre pagan rites?” said Hilda.
The hidden pair exchanged an astonished look as Randolph sputtered, “What? What are you… What bizarre pagan rites?”
“Papa’s Hindu ceremony.”
“It wasn’t. That wasn’t a rite. Mr. Mitra said very clearly that it was of his own devising. It was rather a fascinating…experiment. Scientific, like Alan’s work. And I am not required to explain my conduct to you.”
“No, just to the archbishop.” There was the hint of a laugh in Hilda’s tone. “I think I must tell him.”
“Is she storing up ammunition for future blackmail?” Sebastian whispered.
The idea seemed all too plausible. Georgina suppressed a groan.
“Perhaps I will inform him that you would benefit from an exorcism,” said Randolph.
“What are those like?” asked Hilda. “Are there robes?”
“What sort of young lady asks…?”
“Well, none, of course,” she said, cutting him off once again. “I’m heartily sick of being a ‘young lady.’ The proprieties get one nowhere, as far as I can see.”
“Which is not very far at all,” said Randolph.
“We must help him,” whispered Georgina.
Sebastian nodded and stepped forward. They found his brother and Georgina’s sister squared off near the front door of the castle. Randolph was glaring, Hilda smug. “Oh, hullo,” said Sebastian, showing no sign that they’d overheard. “Not thinking of going out, are you? Still pelting with rain out there.”
Georgina choked on a laugh.
“I was coming to speak to you,” snapped Randolph, “when I encountered Lady Hilda.”
He sounded far younger than his years, Georgina thought. Her sister had reduced him to her own level, as she could so easily do. For once, she was grateful. Hilda had saved them from an embarrassing interruption. Cheeks warming at the memory of that delicious interlude, she said, “Shouldn’t you be in your bedchamber, Hilda?”
“I’ve been released from imprisonment. I assured Mama of my sincere repentance.”
Randolph muttered something very like “Hah!”
“She sent me to find you,” Hilda added.
Georgina and Sebastian exchanged a fleeting, congratulatory look. “Here I am,” they said at the same moment, then laughed in unison.
This was how it would be when they were married, Georgina thought. They’d manage all sorts of matters together, in harmony. A lifetime of understanding glances lay ahead of her. Her spirits soared as she saw how love made it all easy. “Come along then,” she said to her sister. She was ready to immerse herself in wedding details now, right after she had a serious conversation with Hilda.
Sixteen
As the family sat at dinner the following evening, Georgina looked around the table with warm contentment. It all looked so…normal. Mentally comparing it to the first night of Sebastian’s visit, she felt a glow of achievement. The feeling was entirely different, and she’d accomplished most of the change herself. Hilda, taxed with Georgina’s knowledge of her blackmail attempt, had recanted and even apologized to Randolph. Now, she looked almost demure on the other side of the board. Sebastian said that his brother had laughed about the incident, in the end.
Papa had been all amiable courtesy since their “discussion,” and her mother had taken the bit between her teeth to manage the coming festivities. Emma was on her best behavior. Mr. Mitra remained a dignified, interesting guest. Georgina had begun to anticipate the Greshams’ arrival, not only because it meant her wedding, but as a source of enjoyment, too.
It was true that Joanna Byngham remained deeply affected by her experience during Mr. Mitra’s meditation. She’d sewn loose, flowing sleeves onto all her gowns, so long that they trailed along the floor as she moved, and had begun dressing her hair in a tall, braided crown. She talked more like a character from a gothic novel now than the sensible governess Georgina had known for fifteen years. She thought that even Papa was beginning to find it a little wearisome, though he clearly savored many of her pronouncements. They gave him opportunities to gaze at his Indian visitor with raised eyebrows, as if to say, “You see that I was correct.” Mr. Mitra exhibited a particularly elegant version of pained endurance on these occasions.
Perhaps Joanna could be sent on a research mission, Georgina thought. She traveled to special library collections on occasion to gather information for Papa. Georgina knew the governess loved those trips. She would speak to her father about it.
As she ran her eyes down the length of the table, Georgina met Sebastian’s admiring blue gaze and returned his smile. She loved him. He loved her. She’d never been so happy.
At that very moment, as if she’d somehow sensed Georgina’s contentment, Joanna rose from her chair and spread her arms out at her sides, looking rather like an oversized bat. “It is imperative that I speak,” she said.
All the others gazed at her. Papa sat back as if a play was about to begin. Hilda grinned. Mr. Mitra bowed his head and murmured something. Georgina rather hoped it was an incantation to impose silence.
“A spirit has come to me in dreams,” Joanna intoned. “Long had it searched for one who could hear its tale. As the centuries passed, it nearly despaired, and then my senses were opened.” She waved her arms so that her long sleeves fluttered. “To the talents and duties of my ancient heritage. A ritual must be held, as soon as may be, or doom will fall upon this family, even unto a thousand years.”
“Oh, Joanna,” said Georgina. She had a sudden urge to rest her forehead on the tabletop.
“I’ve had enough of this nonsense—” began her mother.
“Come, come, let us listen to what she has to say,” Georgina’s father insisted. He looked more than ever like a man ready to be entertained.
Hilda giggled.
“You propose to add a new family member.” Joanna swiveled to point at Sebastian.
Georgina’s beloved rocked back as if Joanna had actually poked him with her extended finger. On the other side of the table, Randolph stared like a man who couldn’t tear his eyes away from a riveting spectacle.
“He must be woven into the threads of your regal bloodline,” Joanna continued. She swiveled to point at Georgina’s father. “By you, my lord.”
Georgina could see that Papa liked that. His penchant for drama had been thwarted by her intervention, and this proposal played right into his current obsession.
“If he is not, all will fail. The marriage will sour, the castle will fall, the…”
“Joanna!” Georgina cried. “Stop this at once. How dare you say that about my marriage?”
Her old governess crossed her arms over her chest and assumed a regretful expression. “It pains me to do so, Lady Georgina. But the sacred charge of a priestess outweighs all other considerations.”
“You are not a priestess!”
“I was,” the other woman chanted. “And am. And shall ever be. It was shown to me in the temporal travels our guest guided.” She turned to Mitra and bent her head as if acknowledging a peer.
Mr. Mitra rose with fierce grace. “Begging your pardons, one and all, but I must protest. This is not correct. Miss Byngham has allowed her imagination to…overwhelm her understanding. I see no connection here to my studies or methods. I-I repudiate it.” Putting his palms together, he bowed briefly and walked out.
Joanna looked momentarily disconcerted. Then she shrugged and shook it off, murmuring, “The student can surpass the master.”
“What sort of ritual would it be?” Georgina’s father asked.
“Alfred!” said her mother.
Sebastian watched the marquess wave his wife’s indignation aside. His host was very taken with the idea of an ancestral ritual, he saw, and he wasn’t going to be deprived of the treat. It seemed a dashed silly idea to Sebastian, and he strongly resented the dire predictions about his marriage. But it didn’t look as if the thing could be avoided. Ah, well. He’d stood on parade in the baking sun wearing thirty pounds of gear. He could face his future father-in-law and let him make a few passes with a magic wand or whatever the governess had in mind. Though it hardly seemed right to call her a governess now. And indeed, judging from the glare Georgina’s mother was sending Miss Byngham’s way, she wouldn’t be one much longer. Not at Stane Castle at any rate.
“It is not complex,” said Miss Byngham. “And yet every detail must be exactly right. All the family must attend, garbed in red.”
“Garbed,” Georgina’s mother snorted.
The marquess smiled at that, obviously pleased at the inclusion of the latter.
“You will read a solemn welcome, my lord, with affirmations from your family.”
“I think not,” muttered Georgina’s mother.
“And then Lord Sebastian will read his response. I have been gifted with the precise wording, you understand. It must be absolutely correct. You are well aware of the power of incantation.”
She and the marquess exchanged a complacent glance as Sebastian’s world fell about his ears. He’d heard the phrase my heart sank before, but he’d never really known what it meant.
“I could say a blessing if you like,” offered Randolph.
It had been years since Sebastian had really wanted to punch one of his brothers. Until now.
“I don’t think this is really your province, Lord Randolph,” Miss Byngham answered.
Hilda giggled again. Georgina glared at her.
“Your participation isn’t necessary,” added the governess airily. “You are not a Stane, nor to be joined to them.”
Randolph frowned at her.
Georgina’s father rubbed his hands together, clearly entranced with this plan. “You know, I think the most difficult requirement will be the red clothing. We’ll have a look in the attics. We’ve trunks full of old clothes up there.”
“Alfred, you cannot mean to go through with this!” said his wife.
“Why not? It will be amusing, something to do while we kick up our heels waiting for the wedding.” He noticed Miss Byngham’s frown. “And important, of course. Say, perhaps we should wait until the Greshams arrive. The more family the merrier, eh?”
“No!” Georgina shouted.
Shouted was the only word for it, Sebastian thought. Her refusal echoed off the dining room walls.
The volume didn’t faze her father. “Well, well, they’re not needed, eh, Joanna? Though they’d be a welcome addition, I’d think.”
