An Inconvenient Kiss

by Carole Kimberly

  Simon considered that for a moment. Georgiana would undoubtedly be scrutinized by every single British national in India. If it appeared that Nath couldn’t control his own sister while she was in residence, any hopes he had to advance his career would come to naught. And it would all be Simon’s fault.

  “So,” Simon said slowly. “We need to keep Georgiana firmly in hand.”

  “That isn’t enough, I’m afraid,” Nath said. “I want you to be her escort. At all times. Until she decides to leave the continent.”

  Simon felt his brow knit. “Do you think that wise, Nath?” he said slowly.

  “Of course it’s not wise,” Nathaniel snapped. “But it’s the only way I can think to keep her out of trouble!”

  As Simon opened his mouth to protest, Nath cut him off. “You know as well as I do that Georgiana always had a fondness for you.”

  Simon knew nothing of the sort, though his heartbeat quickened slightly at the thought. “So you think if I keep her occupied with my particular brand of wit and charm...” He trailed off, deliberately waiting for Nath to finish the sentence.

  “If she’s busy with you,” Nath sighed, “she won’t disrupt the cantonment. We are trying to strengthen the Company’s foothold. The last thing I need is the male half of the British population here lusting after my profligate sister!”

  “Many of the soldiers and company employees have wives back in England,” Simon reminded him.

  “Precisely,” Nath said vehemently. “Which is why I can’t have Georgiana running roughshod over this camp. She could destroy my good name in two countries! I will not have her distracting good men from their work for her entertainment. But if she has her own distraction...” He gestured toward Simon.

  Simon looked hard at Nathaniel, his blood running cold. “What, exactly, are you asking me to do about Georgiana, Nath?”

  Nathaniel looked pointedly back at him. “I’m asking you to do whatever it takes to keep my sister out of my way.”

  Simon glowered at his friend. Nathaniel was asking him to seduce Georgiana as a means of saving his career. Simon wanted to refuse; the whole business was repulsive.

  Yet Simon’s guilt was proving to be a stronger than his morals. He was directly responsible for the situation they now faced, after all. It was unfair for Nath to take an irreparable hit because he balked.

  Still, this felt wrong. “And if I refuse?” he asked, making one last stand.

  Nath grimaced. “I could order you to do so, Major,” he said softly. “But I’d rather keep this friendly.”

  “You don’t need to order me, sir,” Simon muttered, rising from his seat. He needed a breath of fresh air. “When do you anticipate they will arrive?”

  “Good man,” Nath rose and clapped him on the shoulder. “The letter I received said they expect to be here by the nineteenth.”

  Simon’s stomach roiled. “That’s only three days away!”

  “Plenty of time to brace yourself, Simon. Gives you a bit to plan your strategy, get a haircut, etcetera. She travels with Sir Jon and our cousin Jane Fairmonte, a widow courtesy of Napoleon. Apparently Georgiana talked Jane into traveling with them as a companion, or chaperone,” he said dryly. “Though I do not doubt she has corrupted poor Jane as well.”

  Simon nodded. “I’ll await word of their arrival.”

  Nath cleared his throat. “There has been more trouble with the Bengali rebels. The governor-general has ordered a meeting for his Bengali Province administrators a week hence,” he said somewhat sheepishly. “I leave tomorrow for Baleshwar.”

  “Coward,” Simon accused.

  He was about to inform his commanding officer that he’d rather face Bengali rebels than his current assignment when Nath spoke. “I imagine you can reacquaint yourself with my sister on your own.”

  Simon sighed and nodded mutely.

  “The native dams you’re restoring are near to completion, and plans for the canal will be well underway within the month, so you will, of course, be relieved of your work duties while she’s under your care,” Nath said slowly. “Though you will receive your usual wages.”

  Simon shot him a murderous look. “I believe there is a word for that particular career, Lieutenant Colonel, and it’s one with which I’d prefer not to be associated.”

  Nath nodded. “Point taken. You will be at half duty while my sister is here. Skeffington can help.”

  Simon knew it was as much concession as he would get from Nath today. He inclined his head and left the room without another word.

  Once outside, Simon allowed himself to breathe again. Georgiana Phillips. Georgie. He had thought often of her since the night she was sent away from England in shame. If there was one thing he regretted in his life, it was the kiss they shared six long years ago.

  That wasn’t entirely true, he admitted. He didn’t regret the kiss. Not really. He regretted the aftermath, of course, the destruction it had wrought. But not the kiss. Never that kiss.

  That kiss haunted him. During the day he forced himself to push away the thought of it, but occasionally, if not frequently, he would close his eyes at night and allow himself to remember. He savored the memory, if he were being completely honest. The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on had actually pressed her lips to his with such devastating enthusiasm that he had been momentarily shocked into submission.

  It had been the sweetest, most enticing kiss he had ever experienced, and each time the memory arose, it left him slightly breathless.

  Even now.

  He should regret the kiss, he reminded himself. It had utterly destroyed her life and his peace of mind. Now it threatened to upend Nath’s career, which was his life. So of course it was wrong to think about it with any fondness. What made the situation even worse was that he actually felt a shimmer of excitement at the notion that he’d just been handed the opportunity to kiss her again. Simon shook off the thought.

  Kissing Georgiana Phillips occupied too much of his thoughts as it was. And now her own brother was expecting him to seduce her. He had a metallic taste in his mouth, and he desperately wanted a drink of water. Perhaps this was poetic justice, he thought bleakly, his own personal form of self-flagellation—ordered to seduce the one woman he felt bad about seducing.

  Three days. Three days and he would have to face the sins of his past. It was a sobering thought. And yet he’d do his duty to the family he had personally destroyed, even if it meant obliterating his own soul.

  * * *

  As it turned out, Simon did not have three days to prepare for Georgiana. Like any true calamity, she came on suddenly and without warning. He had just fallen asleep, after spending most of the night tossing and turning and trying not to think about that kiss, that damned inconvenient kiss, when he was jolted upright by a sharp banging on his chamber door.

  “Mr. Simon! Mr. Simon!” Baljit clamored from the hallway. “Mr. Nathaniel sends you a message!”

  “Damnation,” Simon muttered, rising from the bed. “Well?” he barked, not even trying to hide the harsh tone of his voice. “What does Nath have to say that couldn’t wait until dawn?”

  Baljit was clearly uncomfortable. “Mr. Nathaniel’s servant said Mr. Nathaniel was most upset by this news. He warned me you would be unhappy too. But I do not understand it myself.”

  Simon blew out a huge breath. “It can’t be much worse than what I’ve already heard of late. What is it?”

  Baljit eyed him skeptically. “Mr. Nathaniel said she is here. A group of British have come in the night.”

  “What?” Simon yelped. “She’s here? Now?”

  “You said you would not mind this news, Mr. Simon,” Baljit accused. “You said it was not worse.”

  Simon grimaced. “I was wrong. When did she arrive?”

  “About an hour ago,” Baljit
kicked at the floor, flustered by Simon’s agitation. “The group was small and very quiet. Mr. Nathaniel put them in one of the new bungalows on the farthest side of the cantonment. The rest of their caravan is expected tomorrow. The larger carts were delayed several kilometers north of Cuttack because of a broken wheel.”

  Simon swore under his breath and noticed Baljit was staring at him. “Is that all, Baljit?”

  “Who is she?” Baljit asked, curiosity obviously gnawing at him. “I have never seen you and Mr. Nathaniel so upset. I cannot imagine a mere girl can cause so much distress.”

  Simon snorted. “She is Lady, er, Miss Georgiana Phillips. Nath’s sister.” At the boy’s blank stare, Simon shrugged. “Just wait till you meet her. She has a way of setting the universe on its ear.”

  “The universe does not have ears, Mr. Simon,” Baljit said with no small measure of confusion.

  “Right, another figure of speech,” Simon agreed. “It means Georgiana tends to find trouble wherever she goes.”

  “Mr. Nathaniel should not allow his sister to do such mischief,” Baljit said, clearly disliking the very idea of Georgiana.

  “That’s the problem, Baljit,” Simon explained. “No one can really stop her.”

  The boy pointed at Simon, undisguised admiration shining in his eyes. “You could stop her, Mr. Simon. I will help you.”

  Simon ruffled Baljit’s short hair. “That’s the plan. Although if we’re going to stop Georgiana Phillips, I think we need a bit more rest.”

  Baljit nodded and scampered off to his room. Simon closed his door and threw himself on his mattress. Going back to sleep would be impossible, he knew, staring up at the mosquito netting surrounding his bed.

  His stomach clenched at the thought of seeing Georgiana again. What have the past six years been like for her? he wondered. As far as rumors went, Georgiana was as enchanting as ever. In fact, most of those rumors would lead one to believe that she’d become as fatal as a siren; her allure so great no man could resist her. That she then took great pleasure in shattering their hopes, leaving a trail of broken hearts wherever she went.

  Simon closed his eyes, recalling Georgiana as best he could. She had been only sixteen when Nath had introduced them, and even then she had been utterly devastating. Young Georgiana was tall and slender, slightly curvy in just the right places. She had a perfect oval face, high cheekbones, a pert nose and lush, red lips that bordered on indecent. Her thick sable hair had been swept up in a simple, elegant style and had gleamed like silk in the candlelight of the ballroom where they’d first met.

  What had captivated him, however, were her eyes. They weren’t blue, as one expects eyes to be, but a rich violet, and they danced with intelligence and humor. Framed by ridiculously thick, dark lashes, they were mesmerizing. Simon knew he was in trouble the moment they met. Georgiana made him feel...restless. Unsettled. Instead of saying something charming and witty as he usually did when presented with a beautiful woman, he’d barely managed to acknowledge her before fleeing to the far corner of the ballroom, terrified his desire would show.

  Unable to keep his distance from her, Simon had spent the next two years watching her surreptitiously, drawn like a moth to a flame, trying to hover close without actually getting singed. Each time, she would eventually discover him acting as dog in the manger and force him into some semblance of pleasantries. He would exchange a few polite words and then make his escape like the coward he was.

  Until the night she’d discovered him with Octavia Fenimere. Talking with her, kissing her, had felt so...right. He realized that night he was indeed going to court Georgiana—that he’d wanted to do so all along.

  Instead, he’d bungled it all with that kiss.

  Simon forced himself back to his present predicament. Dawn’s first light was peeking through his window. He shook his head and dragged himself up to get dressed. Pulling on his trousers, he chastised himself for worrying about Georgiana and her effect on him.

  He was no longer the same young man who had pined after a beautiful, witty girl, he reminded himself, tucking in his shirt rather vehemently. He’d experienced the horrors of war. He had seen friends die at his side. He had traveled through foreign—sometimes hostile—lands. He had built cities out of nothing, for god’s sake; he could handle one young woman with unusual eyes. He was no longer at the mercy of Miss Georgiana Phillips. He was a grown man in control of his impulses. He was in control of his destiny, and that was how he meant to proceed.

  Simon marched to the small room that acted as the dining room. Baljit, of course, was already plowing through his eggs. Simon accepted a cup of black coffee from his housekeeper, Geeta, and sat down across from the boy.

  “Are you ready to stop some mischief, Baljit?” Simon asked, forcing his heart down from his throat. “Because I’d like to pay Miss Phillips a visit this very morning.”

  Baljit looked up from his plate, his cheek stuffed with egg. He swallowed hard and grinned. “I would like that very much, Mr. Simon.”

  “Good,” Simon said.

  He intended to take control of this situation, and the best way to do that was with an ambush. He would catch her before she could gauge the lay of the land—march right over to her bungalow and meet her head on. They would sit down together like two mature adults, and he would say, straight out, that even though he was very sorry for her ruination and his own role in it, the past was behind them. He would also explain, in no uncertain terms, that she was not allowed to destroy her brother’s life.

  Simon took a sip of coffee, relishing its bitter, biting taste. Straight talk and high expectations were needed to prevent impending disaster. Then they could go about life in a civil, if not comfortable, manner. He was determined to show Georgiana that he was in complete control of this situation.

  Just as soon as he got complete control over his pulse.

  * * *

  Simon had no sooner stepped from his bungalow, squinting against the early morning light, when a woman’s voice greeted him. “Mr. Ashford?” she said cautiously, as though worried he might answer in the affirmative. “Or should I call you Major?”

  Simon shook his head, trying to force his eyes to adjust. His heart tripped over itself. Apparently Georgiana Phillips had the same head for ambush as he. “I am no longer regular army, so the title is unnecessary Lady—Miss Phillips,” he said politely, bowing over her proffered hand. “Delighted to see you again.”

  “I doubt that,” the voice said wryly.

  His eyes had adjusted and he looked at the woman before him. His heart dropped to his toes. Georgiana was not...she was not...

  Not what he’d expected.

  She was still beautiful, of course, but in a different way. It was as though the years had faded her, making her a shadow of her former self—like a painting that should have been done in rich oil but was instead soft watercolor. Her skin was paler than he remembered, and her hair, while still dark and thick, seemed to have lost its former luster. Her mouth had thinned and she was rounder both in body and face, though not unpleasantly so.

  What brought on the slightest pang of melancholy, however, were her eyes. They were still lovely and fringed by extravagant lashes, but the color had softened, making them more lilac than the intense violet he’d remembered. It was as though the fires banked in those fantastical eyes had burned to mere embers.

  Perhaps his memories were foggy, he mused. After all, it was not uncommon for fishing stories to get more and more outlandish each time the teller recounted the tale. Perhaps the Georgiana of his memories was a fabrication of his own desire rather than a true rendering of the woman.

  Corralling his thoughts, Simon turned to the young lad practically dancing next to him. “Miss Georgiana Phillips, allow me to present my apprentice, Baljit.”

  Georgiana gave a curtsy worthy of a duke. “Young Master Balji
t. I am delighted to meet you.” Baljit beamed. Simon decided he liked Georgiana immensely.

  Simon suddenly noticed a figure standing quietly off to the side. He guessed female, though it was impossible to tell since she was swathed from head to toe in a plain dust-colored abaya. Covering her head and face was a headscarf known as a niqab. The only opening in the fabric was a narrow slit for the eyes, though Simon had seen enough Muslim women in the marketplace to know that she would not make eye contact with him. Sure enough, the figure did not drag her eyes from the ground.

  “Don’t tell me this is Cousin Jane?” Simon asked, indicating the woman.

  Georgiana smiled. “Unfortunately my cousin is not feeling well. Grandfather was impatient to arrive, so we rode through the night to get here. I’m afraid it took a toll on Jane, who tends to have a weak constitution.” She gestured to the other woman, who stood with her head down. “This is Fatima.”

  Simon thought it unwise for a woman with fragile health to travel to the far corners of the earth, but he deemed it best not to voice that thought. He was enjoying the amiable ground they currently shared and wasn’t about to disrupt it.

  “Where did you meet Fatima?” he asked.

  Georgiana looked like she had swallowed something sour. “She was a gift, actually. Grandfather aided several merchants from different clans while we were in Egypt. He discovered that the administrators in the British quarter were not always, shall we say, dealing fairly with them. He saw to it that certain practices were stopped, and in return one of the merchants gave us Fatima as a...companion.”

  “I see,” Simon said, not bothering to hide his disapproval.

  “We wouldn’t have accepted her except Grandfather said it would offend the man and undermine everything we had worked for. So she travels with us.”

  Simon moved to introduce himself to the quiet figure, but Georgiana stopped him. “In spite of the fact that she now lives with a British family, she still will not speak to men unrelated to her,” she said.