“Show Hathaway the door, Georgiana. The man is out of control. He works for you. Not the other way ’round.”
“He? He is out of control? You are in quite a foul mood tonight, are you not? From my arrival at the Argyle Rooms to your dressing down of Hathaway, you have been singularly unpleasant. I think you should go.”
He took another drink, larger this time. “Think again.”
“Whatever possessed you to confront him as you did?”
“Someone had to do it and you, apparently, were not going to.”
“You had no right to interfere in my domestic affairs.”
“As your fiancé, I have every right.”
“That is a sham, Charles! Mere subterfuge. I will thank you to remember that.”
He turned to her and took her glass to put it beside his on the sideboard, then pulled her into his arms. “Not as much a sham as you might think. In the eyes of the ton, and your servants, we are now bound to each other. I hope I will not be forced to remind you of that too often.”
He was impossible! “We must end this. I was foolish to agree to such a plan. You have a talent for finding me in unguarded moments.”
“Still not good enough for you, Georgiana? Objectionable? Still lacking in assets? Well, I can think of one thing, at least, in which you do not find me lacking.”
“What—”
He covered her mouth with his, catching her unprepared. She brought her hands up between them, ready to pummel him if necessary. But from the moment his tongue touched hers, she was lost. Her mind became hazy and her knees grew weak. Instead of pummeling, she clung. She knew in some distant part of her brain that he was not going to stop with a kiss, but she didn’t care. The mere memory of what he’d done in the coach was enough to keep her standing there, uncaring of the world around them—for as long as it took him to do it again. To her shame, she wanted to feel that thrilling pleasure. Wanted to feel cherished, to feel as if she belonged to someone or something greater than only herself.
Could she? Could she allow him such liberties and still be whole when he left again? And he would leave. That was what Charles did when he’d gotten what he wanted. But...if he only wanted the conquest, and if she let him have it, he would go away and leave her alone. He would lose interest in his game.
He would be safe from her curse.
Yes, to end the ruse, then. And more importantly, to prevent him from sharing the fate of her husbands, she’d let him have what he wanted. And pray the loss of him would not be so painful to bear this time.
Selfless of her, really. Even noble.
She surrendered to his kiss, entering into the strange seduction with an abandon she hadn’t realized she possessed. She had given access to her body to her husbands, just as Aunt Caroline instructed, but she had never felt this pull, this compulsion. Nay, desire.
She felt the change in him when he realized that she was no longer resisting. One arm tightened around her and the other wandered down to cup her bottom as he bent slightly to lift her against him.
Where? Oh, dear Lord, where? The settee? The deep carpeting before the fireplace? Her breasts tingled in anticipation of his touch. Of his mouth. She was desperate to feel that again. Desperate to experience that final transporting thrill just before he had stopped. Oh, but tonight, he would not stop. She would not let him.
He headed for the door and she realized his intent. For the first time, she had misgivings. The servants...
But he kissed her again, then nibbled her ear. His breath, hot and moist, caused her to shiver. All thought of denial fled as he started up the stairs, his steps muffled by the carpet.
His voice was low and hoarse when he echoed her unspoken question. “Where?”
“Last door on the right,” she said with a breathless gasp.
Clara opened the door just as they arrived before it. Her eyes grew as round as saucers and she covered her mouth to stifle either a giggle or a cry of shock.
“Good night, Clara” was all that Charles said, but his voice was dark enough to send her scurrying away.
He kicked the door closed behind him and placed Georgiana gently on the bed, kissing her cheeks, her throat and her lips. She reached up and circled his neck, but he disengaged her arms as he sat back. “Let me enjoy this, Georgiana. I think you owe this much to me for all the sleepless nights you’ve caused.”
The thought perplexed her. “I?”
He nodded as he pulled the satin slippers from her feet and tossed them over his shoulder, then ran his hand up her leg until he found her garter and the bare flesh beyond. He rolled the white stockings down her legs, then slid the garters downward, too, grinning when she gulped.
He was so practiced and skillful—she did not want to think how—that he found the fasteners to her gown quickly and divested her of it. Reaching behind her, he undid the laces of her corset and cast if off to leave her in nothing but her chemise.
He tugged the ribbons securing that last vestige of modesty, and the chemise slipped down to her waist. A moment later, it lay atop the heap of her discarded clothing. She shivered in the cool night air and looked for something to cover her. Charles looked down at her tightened nipples and groaned. “You won’t be cold much longer, Georgiana. Bear with me.”
She was embarrassed. The other times—with her husbands—the lamps were off and she was under the blankets in her nightgown. Never naked. To be exposed to his view seemed so...naughty. So erotic.
As if he sensed her fears, he leaned over and blew the candle out leaving the soft glow of the firelight—revealing, but somehow kinder. She sighed in relief. She did not want him to find her lacking in any way.
He smiled and she was momentarily reminded of that younger Charles. The one who had wooed her so sweetly, the one she’d given her heart to. But this was a new Charles. Experienced, determined and relentless.
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the pins from her hair. “Like silk,” he murmured as he tangled his fingers in the curls. Bending slightly, he lifted a strand and held it to his cheek. “You are so completely beautiful that you take my breath away. What is that scent, Georgiana? It reminds me of spring.”
“L-lilacs,” she said, amazed that he would notice such a thing.
“Lilacs...” He straightened and stepped back from her bed to shrug out of his jacket. His gaze never leaving her, he removed his cravat, waistcoat, shirt, shoes, stockings and trousers in that order. She felt heat sweep up from her toes as he turned to her and undid his drawers and let them drop to the floor.
Good heavens! She’d never seen a man naked before. Mr. Huffington had worn a nightshirt and joined her beneath the blankets. Arthur had tumbled down the stairs in his nightshirt on his way to the water closet, but Gower had stayed the course—twice. With a little fumbling, he had managed to find the parts that fit together and finish the job rather quickly. The discomfort he’d caused had come and gone as quickly as he.
This, she gathered, was going to be an entirely different experience.
Charles’s physique was stirring. She noted an angry red scar high on his left shoulder and knew what had caused that damage—the shot he’d taken when standing beside Adam Booth. But then all she could see was his strongly muscled chest, narrowed waist and hips and...and that he was impossibly large below. Though she hadn’t actually seen Gower’s member, it couldn’t possibly have been this large.
He lay down beside her and she turned from her side onto her back, ready for him. She hoped that he would do some of the things he’d done to her in the coach first, though.
His hands, as deft as she’d ever known them, slipped over her form, from her shoulders to her knees. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open in a sigh, as if he were blind and learning what a woman was for the first time.
“I’ve wanted you for so long. You are
everything I thought you’d be, Georgiana.”
Had he? But why had he run away after that first fierce kiss? Why had he not gone further then? She opened her mouth to ask the question, but he kissed her, blocking all thought and reason, as consuming as their first ill-fated kiss. She prayed it would not end the same way and moaned when he finally lifted from her lips. Why couldn’t that kiss go on forever?
But he turned his attention to the hollow of her throat and she could feel the heat of his breath there. The soft brush of his lips quieted her protest, alerting her that he was not done with her yet.
Her muscles relaxed and she felt as if she were melting. She was ready when he moved lower and took one firmed aureole between his lips and nibbled. An instant tingle began deep inside her. She couldn’t describe it, had never felt it before but had come close that night in the coach. She only knew something inside her was tightening, tensing for some unknown event, drawing ever closer with an indescribable compulsion. Whatever it was, she knew she wanted it, needed it. He moved his hand downward, touching her, stroking her in that most tender spot. She heard a whimper and realized that it was hers.
Charles made an answering sound, part groan, part growl. Had she done something to displease him? His knee slipped between her thighs and she raised her own knee to welcome him.
He sighed. “Everything and more...”
She twisted beneath him, reaching up to him. “Please,” she said, not knowing what she asked for, but knowing she wanted whatever came next. Yes, and trusting that Charles would know what she wanted, even if she did not. “Please.”
And for the first time, there was something familiar—the experimental push of his shaft against her softness. But with Charles, she wanted it. Welcomed it. She lifted to him in desperation.
“Ah, Georgie,” he groaned, thrusting again, harder this time.
He was thick and long and sure. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out, knowing this was what she’d been waiting for, as he entered and filled her. But he did not stop there. He drew back and thrust again and again, creating an exquisite friction that rapidly built to a new and even more compelling need. So compelling that she could not catch her breath.
She joined his rhythm until a shattering spasm overtook her. Wave upon wave of pleasure washed through her and she was dying. Dying of sheer pleasure. Charles was with her, panting and whispering her name as he thrust one last time.
“Georgie...Georgie...Georgie...”
That was all she’d ever wanted.
* * *
Sometime before dawn, Charles bent over Georgiana to brush her hair back from her face and kiss her cheek. “I really must be going. Servants are one thing, but it would never do to have the neighbors see me leaving at the break of dawn.”
Her eyes were heavy-lidded and drowsy, and her flawless skin had the glow of a well-satisfied woman. A fact in which he took immense pride. She managed a smile and touched his cheek. “Once more?”
He laughed. When she’d recovered from their first coupling, she’d wanted more, and he’d been only too happy to accommodate her. Then again. And again. If she’d been insatiable, he’d been a satyr. “You wear me out, Georgie. I’d be pleased to accommodate you, but I will need a bit of time. I fear you’ve drained me.”
“Mmm.” She gave a feline stretch and blinked. “Is there anything I can do to persuade you?”
He groaned. All she needed to do was ask! If duty did not call he would be content to lie abed all day satisfying her every desire. She’d been worth the wait. Worth every moment, every day, every year.
He’d known from her responses that she’d been new to such pleasure and he thanked God that her previous husbands had not ruined her for this particular sport. She was so inherently sensual that he could easily teach her every delight she could imagine. And others that she couldn’t. Yet.
“I will fetch you for Vauxhall Gardens at eight,” he said, straightening the lapels of his jacket.
“Hortense has taken to her bed with a cold, so I told Harriett I’d go with her. Will you meet us there?”
Was that a twinge of annoyance he felt? Had he become so possessive of her in the space of one night that he could not share her with her female friends? Did it really matter whom she arrived with as long as he escorted her home? “Very well. I will meet you there. Shall I speak to Hathaway on my way out?”
She sighed and propped herself up against her pillows, pulling the sheets up to cover her breasts. Pity, that. He’d have enjoyed the view. “I shall give him two weeks’ notice.”
“I think it would be best if he were gone today. Otherwise the next fortnight is likely to be exceedingly uncomfortable.”
“Yes, but I cannot just toss him onto the street after so many years of service. He may have financial obligations.”
“You are too considerate,” he said. “I doubt the man would do the same for you.”
She shrugged and the sheet slipped to reveal one rosy semi-circle. He grew instantly hard again, and wondered if he’d ever get enough of her. Or if, when this affair was over, she would leave him still wanting more.
“Give him two weeks’ wages instead,” he said, “and send him on his way. I warrant your household will function well enough without a butler. If not, promote your footman or hire another butler.”
“I shall think on it.” She sighed, her eyelids drooping again.
He savored the sight of her sunken against the pillows, still flushed from his lovemaking. Though he’d always known he’d have her, and that their coupling had been inevitable, he hadn’t suspected it to be so intense. So difficult to leave her. Arrogant ass that he was, he’d thought he could seduce her and then turn his back, just as she had turned hers after their first kiss.
He steeled himself against those thoughts. There’d be time enough for regrets later.
* * *
Georgiana found the sly looks cast in her direction difficult to endure. Word had spread throughout the house that she had taken a lover. To her chagrin, she’d been forced to perpetuate the lie and tell Clara that she and Charles Hunter were engaged to be married. She knew she could depend upon Clara to share that bit of information with the other servants.
But the worst came when she’d returned from a quick errand to find Hathaway in her bedroom rifling through her wardrobe. When he heard her, he turned very slowly and faced her with an unreadable expression.
“Is something amiss, Hathaway?”
He blinked. “Everything appears to be in order, madam.”
Did he really expect her to believe he’d been checking Clara’s work? When he’d never done so before? She saw a sly glint in his dark eyes and she’d suddenly had quite enough. “Wait for me in the library, Hathaway. I shall be down in a moment.”
The instant he left the room, Georgiana dropped her reticule and tossed her bonnet on the bed. What had the man been looking for? Because she was certain he’d been hunting for something. Was it possible...? Could Hathaway be responsible for all her little missing items? But why? They’d been trinkets of little value for the most part. Surely the man would have aimed higher if he was to take the risk of being caught, wouldn’t he?
Aunt Caroline’s jewelry was locked away in a safe at the estate in Kent and only she had the key now. She opened the little box where she kept her jewelry—and the key. Still there. Then what had he wanted?
She glanced around, searching for any other trace of Hathaway’s invasion, and noted that the stack of books by her bedside had been rearranged. Had he gone so far as to...but no, they were all there, though in a different order. And every trace of Charles’s presence there last night had been erased.
I think it would be best if he were gone today. Otherwise the next fortnight is likely to be exceedingly uncomfortable. Charles’s words echoed in her mind. He’d been right. She
did not want to think of the man in her house any longer.
She patted her hair into place, brushed the wrinkles from her gown, and hurried down the stairs to the library.
As she entered the room, Hathaway looked down his long nose at her—no smirk, just a dark look of disapproval. Of superiority, actually. And, perhaps, just a hint of anger? “Yes, madam?”
“Hathaway, it is my belief that you have been unhappy in this household since Lady Caroline’s death. I have been painfully aware of the awkwardness between us. I think, therefore, that it would be best for all if we severed our relationship. I am prepared to offer you half pay for the next month whilst you find other employment.”
Hathaway stiffened and managed to look even sterner. “Half pay, madam?”
She nodded. She had not expected gratitude, but she had thought he would see the sense in her plan.
“I served his lordship, then Lady Caroline, and since her death—you. Three-and-twenty years, madam, and you think to pay me off with one month of half pay and push me out the door with nary a ‘by your leave’?”
She gritted her teeth. Hathaway had been left generous bequests by both Lord Betman and Lady Caroline. What he’d done with them, she had no idea. But had she been unfair? Ungenerous? She, herself, owed Hathaway very little. Based upon his short service in her employ—less than a year—he’d shown her little but impatience and disrespect. She could not imagine living indefinitely with him in her home and subjected to his behavior. But in the interest of expediency, “Full pay, then.”
She straightened her back and strengthened her will as she went to the desk and removed the leather packet that held the cash she’d withdrawn from the bank for household expenses. She removed the required sum and pushed it across the polished surface toward him. “On second thought, I would rather you leave today, Hathaway. If you are unable to find lodgings on such short notice, you may sleep here tonight, but I expect you to have made other arrangements no later than tomorrow.” Perhaps he could find employment wherever his lady love worked.
Harlequin Historical February 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: Never Trust a RakeDicing With the Dangerous LordA Daring Liaison Page 59