by Raine Miller
As if charm needed to be a factor of consideration for him. She could not imagine he lacked feminine admiration. No, that man wouldn’t even need to employ charm. He’d have a plethora of ladybirds swooning over him without ever having to open his mouth. Jeremy Greymont was very pleasing in her view. She’d have thought he’d be married by now, what with his eventual title and wealth. The women must have to be beat back with a stick.
In the saddle with him had been a struggle. The silence deafening over the creak of the tack, the clop of Samson’s hooves, and the soft whisper of rain.
Georgina’s every sense had been heightened by being pressed so close to him. His body had been hard like marble, but warm. And he smelled good. Being up in that saddle next to Jeremy Greymont had felt strangely safe though, like nothing bad could ever happen.
* * * *
“Your coat is a right mess, sir.” The valet took his master’s coat with a wince.
“Please don’t fuss, Myers. We both know you live for the joy of putting my clothes to rights.” Jeremy unbuttoned his waistcoat and then his fine, white shirt, shrugged out of both of them at the same time, and let them drop. “How was the voyage?”
Jeremy didn’t miss Myers’s patient sigh as he retrieved the garments from the floor. “It was satisfactory, sir. You could have spared yourself the rain had you rode in your coach.”
“Ah, I could have, but am so very glad I did not ride with you in my coach,” Jeremy said smugly.
“Sir?” Myers asked, distracted by the clothing in desperate need of his attentions, but responding anyway, as the loyal man he was.
“Nothing, Myers. Don’t you worry your head about it. Just lay me a hot bath and work your magic on my dinner dress for tonight. There is a lady here I wish to impress.”
Myers ignored him. Probably didn’t even hear most of what Jeremy had said. It didn’t matter. Myers would fit him out smartly even if it was raining mud at a country frolic on the heath.
* * * *
“Georgie, look who’s come to visit!” Tom Russell called his sister over to where they stood. “Surely you will remember my friend, Jeremy Greymont, from Hallborough Park. He’s come for the shooting.” Tom turned to Jeremy. “Greymont, my sister, Georgina, now all grown up.”
Jeremy bowed, unable to keep the teasing from his voice. “Miss Georgina, how do you do? I must say, I did not recognize you, so different you look from the last time we met.”
If he thought she looked lovely glistening in raindrops, he was even more impressed with her fitted into a marvelous green dress, the bodice of which caressed her breasts in the way his hands wanted to. Her rosy scent floated up his nose, calming and enticing at the same time.
“Mr. Greymont.” She curtsied. “Welcome back to Oakfield.” She lifted her face, sending him a silent “thank you” for keeping their meeting today in confidence.
He flashed a wink to let her know their secret was safe. A burst of gladness warmed him. He liked the idea that they were keeping secrets together, and the pretty smile she returned.
“Thank you for the welcome. I look forward to the restorative freshness of the country. London has many qualities, but I think most would agree that freshness is not among them.”
“Do you live in London now, Mr. Greymont?”
“I split my time between Town and my home, Hallborough, along the coast in west Somerset.”
“Can you spy the sea from your house?”
“Indeed. The view is quite stunning. Sometimes all the way to the Welsh coast across the channel if the sky is clear. It makes for quite a sight. The local artists find it a favorite scene to capture.”
Jeremy liked that Georgina seemed so interested in his home, and all of a sudden, a vision of her standing out on the second-floor balcony, staring out to sea, popped into his head. He could see her dress blowing back, framing her legs, and her long hair whipping in the ocean breeze. And she looked so very natural standing there on his balcony, in that pretty imaginary vision. Like she belonged. He took a sip of wine to give himself something to do, for he suddenly felt very self-conscious of every word he spoke and every movement he made.
“Well, it sounds very beautiful, Mr. Greymont. You paint a nice picture of your home for me to imagine.”
“Do you still sketch, Miss Georgina? I do remember you liked to draw at one time.”
She smiled at him. Not a huge smile, but one of genuine warmth. So warm, in fact, he felt it, too. Her smile warmed him.
“You have a good memory, sir. And yes, I do still.”
That lovely warmth of feeling Jeremy had enjoyed so well dissipated just as quickly as it came once the announcement for dinner was made.
One of the other guests pushed forward to claim the honor of escorting Georgina to the table. She had no choice but to assent.
Lord Edgar Pellton, Baron, from someplace or another in Avon, was indeed a guest here and sniffing after Miss Georgina Russell in hopes of making her his next baroness. The man was rich, titled, and in need of an heir. He’d been married before, but lost his wife in childbirth, along with an infant daughter. It was said that Pellton didn’t mourn the loss of his wife for even a day, angry that she hadn’t seen fit to give him a son, and returned immediately to his notorious ways with those who shared in his penchant for orgiastic bacchanals. Behavior quite ridiculous for a man far into his fourth decade, in Jeremy’s opinion.
After his arrival, he’d unfortunately discovered Lord Pellton’s attendance for the shooting party along with him.
What a goddamn letch!
Jeremy watched Pellton stride up to Georgina, his waistcoat buttons straining against the bulge at his middle. His features were sharp and mean, like a rat trying to steal from the larder, wriggling in where he didn’t belong and having a go at taking something he didn’t deserve. Pellton sure as hell didn’t deserve someone as lovely as Georgina Russell. Jeremy could scream that from the mountaintops with undisputable certainty. And Jeremy was positive he detected a slight shudder from Georgina when Pellton offered his arm. And he couldn’t imagine how Georgina’s father would even consider sacrificing her to such a beast. How those two disparate men had maintained a friendship was beyond Jeremy’s fathoming.
Jeremy tugged at his shirt cuff and set his jaw as the uncomfortable stirrings of jealousy coiled inside him, and he didn’t feel at all relaxed sitting down to dinner, despite the time he’d prepared for it and Myers’s efforts with the excellent new suit he’d worn.
To be placed next to Georgina was a small consolation. Jeremy looked at her hands, so finely made, and remembered the feel of holding one in a clasp. The moment she’d stepped forward and agreed to let him take her home, there had been firm strength in those elegant lady hands of hers.
“I trust you are no worse for wear after your very wet walk this afternoon? You certainly don’t look it,” he said admiringly. “Were you able to return undetected?”
“I went unnoticed, Mr. Greymont, and able to avoid…um…trouble, for a time at least.” She directed her eyes, still downcast, to the dinner companion on her other side—one Lord Pellton, who, at this very moment, nearly drooled over his plate as he stared most luridly at the bodice of her lovely green gown.
Jeremy found Pellton’s open staring crudely offensive and thought it would be a miracle if he managed to get through the whole fortnight of the party without sticking his boot up the idiot’s arse.
“I am glad then, Miss Georgina, that I had opportunity to assist you today.” He willed her to meet his eyes. When she finally did, he spoke carefully. “Something I would be honored to do for you, anytime.”
Georgina returned a slight nod before lowering her amber eyes once again. “Thank you. You are a kind gentleman.” She got quiet for a moment. “Your horse, Samson, is a beautiful creature.”
So are you. “I’ll tell him you said so, the next time we talk,” he returned.
“Do you converse with your horse, Mr. Greymont?”
“All the ti
me, Miss Georgina. I find him the most sensible gent of all my acquaintance.”
“I know what you mean.” She gave him the briefest of smiles and grew quiet once more.
Jeremy thought she looked sad, and he wondered what had happened to make her thus. He could admit that he found Georgina Russell very attractive and would be more than willing to bed her, but strangely, he wanted more than just a tumble. He found it suddenly essential to see her really smile, to have her golden eyes smoldering at him, teasing him. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted to be the one who made her happy, something he’d never cared about with anyone ever before. And if Jeremy knew one thing it was this: the fair Georgina Russell did not hold happiness in her heart.
Chapter Four
She fair, divinely fair, fit love for gods.
—John Milton, Paradise Lost (1667)
Gold and yellow, a smattering of vibrant orange-red, filtered above her head. The leaves were beginning to reveal their colors. A faint breeze rattled through the autumn pendants, making them shimmer in the light.
A beautiful sight, but Georgina could not appreciate any of it. Not the fine September afternoon, nor the glorious color showing amongst the leaves. She was miserable and didn’t see any way to escape her present problems. The argument with Papa this morning had been awful. He would not give up on persuading her to accept Lord Pellton’s offer of marriage.
“A peer of the realm offers marriage to you, Georgina. A title, status, security, and you would decry all of it in favor of rusticating into spinsterhood for all to ponder why? I’ll not allow such a thing, my daughter! This house will not fall to scandalous gossip. Never!”
Papa was ashamed of her and could hardly bear to look her in the eyes. Of course he was. She had shamed her family. Marrying her off would prove the easiest way for him to be rid of her. If he could sweep her under the rug with a good marriage, the Russell name would remain upstanding.
But marriage to Lord Pellton would not be good. Not for her. More like a nightmare.
Papa had told her this morning that Pellton was tiring of her reticence and would likely withdraw his offer if she didn’t show him some encouragement. Georgina had responded that he’d be wise to withdraw for encouragement from her would not be forthcoming in this lifetime or any other.
To punish her for not yielding, her father had yet again forbidden her to ride, so she had to make do with a walk on the grounds instead.
Georgina wasn’t trying to be difficult or make trouble, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Lord Pellton was a lecher. She hated the way he looked at her, like he dreamed of her unclothed—and vulnerable. And she didn’t believe he would be a kind husband.
A shudder passed through her body. She imagined he thought of the ways he would like to have her, and she would have to submit to it because he needed an heir, and it would be his right to do as he wished. He probably wouldn’t leave her alone until she produced one. And to live with him and call him husband? The very idea made her physically sick.
Truth be told, he frightened her. Something about him reminded her of the other one, bringing back a horror she didn’t fully remember, but still only wished to forget.
Lord Pellton didn’t see her as a person. She knew that much by the way he treated her and looked at her. To him, she was just a thing to be used until she provided what he wanted. She couldn’t do it, she just couldn’t. She was ruined now anyway. Georgina was no fool. She knew herself. She was well aware that marriage to a man like Pellton would…kill her.
Georgina did not hear the sound of boots upon the ground, well, not at first. She was awash in troublesome thoughts of her dilemma that didn’t seem to diminish the more she pondered.
* * * *
Sweet Christ. Jeremy took in the view of her from behind and knew he was in trouble. More accurately, that in a few moments would be making a complete horse’s arse out of himself.
Sitting in a tree swing that looked like it had hung for many years from the great oak, Georgina absently rocked from side to side, using her foot as an anchor. Her dark golden hair had been bundled into a soft mass with plenty of errant curls escaping the attempt at containment. He wanted to pluck out the pins that held those locks. He wanted to see it tumble down her back and frame her face.
Then he would take a curl and lift it to his nose so he could fill his head with the soft whisperings of eglantine. After that, he would fist handfuls of the silky stands and pull her to his lips, in effect trapping her in his embrace. From there he would plunder that appealing mouth of hers, using his tongue to taste and claim the warm depths. Envisioning her mouth caused him to imagine his cock being surrounded by her sweet lips. He could just see them closing in around the head of his prick, right before she slid him to the back of her throat and sucked him dr—
Her head whipped around to glare at him. “Mr. Greymont? You startled me! I did not know you were there.”
Georgina’s indignant reprimand splashed his warm, erotic fantasy with drops of icy, cold reality, killing the thing instantly.
Caught red-handed, you bloody idiot! Go ahead. Now is the time to make that horse’s arse out of yourself!
“I—I was walking back from the shooting and saw you,” he sputtered. “You looked so peaceful in your musings there in the swing.” He cleared his throat. “I—I was reluctant to disturb you.” Like you’re doing right now. Fool!
She stared at him, saying nothing.
“Miss Georgina.” He bowed. “I apologize for the disruption and for startling you. Please forgive me.”
He gave a slight shake to his head, hoping it might clear his brain of all the wicked thoughts. It didn’t. Those naughty fantasies weren’t even nudged slightly down and out.
“It is a small thing, sir. Consider yourself forgiven.” She turned back the way she had been facing before, her backside to him once again.
Yes… That lovely bum of hers, resting lusciously atop the seat of the swing, just begging to be stroked. He would use both hands to grip the cheeks as he slid up to—
“Mr. Greymont,” she admonished, “are you still there?”
His rampant conjuring interrupted for a second time, he jerked. Good God, man, get a hold of yourself!
“Yes, I—I—I was just about to ask if I may escort you back to the house, Miss Georgina. It’s probably not the best for you to be out here with the shooting going on. Yes? Please—please allow me.” He came around to the front of the swing and offered his arm.
Georgina eyed him thoroughly, probably wondering what flustered him and why he kept stammering like a half-wit. God, if she knew the truth, she wouldn’t think him “kind” or a “gentleman.” She’d most likely smack him in the chops. The idea of her trying to cuff him brought on a smile and a rush of more erotic fantasies. Of how he’d trap her hands and turn her so he could bend her over and get to her from behind—
Stop! You are such a bastard.
Thankfully the sweet Georgina could not read his naughty thoughts, for she smiled at him. Not much of a smile, more of a rueful expression than anything, but he was beginning to know this was typical of her. Whenever she did grace him with a smile, it was really only half-beam, and as arousing as hell.
In fact, everything about Georgina aroused him. She affected him profoundly. His body got tight and hard, his tongue tangled in the most annoying way, prohibiting coherent speech, and yet, he could not keep away regardless of how foolish he behaved in her presence. He was drawn like a bee to a glade of sweet blossoms.
“Very well, sir. I am past my time anyway and may expect certain chastisement from my papa for going out in the first place.” She got up from the swing and took his arm.
He gulped and cleared his throat again. “Surly not, Miss Georgina. Your father probably just wants to keep you safe from harm, yes?”
He loved the way she felt so soft next to him. He could smell her, too, and again the scent affected him viscerally, his kecks becoming uncomfortably cramped in the crotch.
The sarcasm rang clear in her answer. “Things are not always what they seem, Mr. Greymont. Remember that.”
“Now that sounds downright ominous, Miss Georgina.”
“It does, I know. You are right, sir. But still, it would be prudent to tread carefully, for your own sake.”
“I consider myself duly warned then.” He grinned saucily at her. “I think you are trying to scare me off, but you should know that I don’t panic easily, especially when my mind is set.”
“So you say, Mr. Greymont.” She curtsied. “Thank you for the escort.” She turned abruptly and left him.
Jeremy watched her go, unable to redirect his eyes. The allure of her hips swaying in cadence with her gown caused his cock to twitch. Like the thing wanted to chase after her. Which, of course, was spot-on really. As he rearranged himself so he could walk without limping, he thought about what she’d told him. “Things aren’t always what they seem.”
Isn’t that the cry of the day!
Chapter Five
Bring me my bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
—William Blake, Milton (1804)
Rainy weather was fine for shooting birds, but rather a hindrance to the pursuit of nature walks, rides, and other activities a young lady might prefer to embroidery or crocheting lace. Georgina needed to get outside and into the fresh air. Three days of being forced indoors had left her in a less than easy mood, and although needlework had its place, she was profoundly sick of it.
Moving determinedly toward the clearing, she could see the target that the gamekeeper, Mr. Alberts, had set up for her as she’d requested. The bows and extra equipment would also be ready for her. The gruff gamekeeper had always been kind to Georgina, doing little favors for her way back when she was small even, when he knew she would like it. She appreciated his efforts, for she knew Mr. Alberts to be very busy with the shooting going on. More than once, he’d lured Lord Pellton away when the man had come trailing after her during house parties like this one. Georgina made a note to procure some of the special tobacco he liked for his pipe.