It was disconcerting, really, that he was the only man who ever made her forget herself. One minute he was looking at her with a healthy show of male appreciation, the next he was shouting her down. Granted, his reasons for yelling at her were valid, mostly, which was why she’d allowed his little rant to go on so long last night. But if he continued to try managing her in such a heavy-handed way, he was going to need more than a few insults in his arsenal.
Jane read her thoughts a few moments later when they met over breakfast. Her cousin, of course, looked as though she’d stepped out of La Belle Assemblée. She wore a creamy, high-waisted promenade gown, adorned with sprigged cherries and ribbons the color of ripe persimmons. Her hair was up in a neat chignon, banded with a ribbon that matched her dress. Her thin cotton shawl matched the trimming, pulling the whole thing together and making Georgiana feel sloppy and unkempt. How Jane always managed to look polished and put together in the heat defied all logic.
“He’s quite handsome.”
“Who’s handsome?” Georgiana asked innocently as she picked through the small assembly of breakfast dishes on the sideboard. “Baljit?”
“Your lodestone,” Jane replied dryly, smearing jam on some toasted bread.
Georgiana chose some cheese and fresh fruit, eager to try the unfamiliar flavors they had discovered in the market. She shrugged nonchalantly. “Mr. Ashford is attractive, in his own way.”
“Pish,” Jane snorted. “He’s beautiful and you know it. He looks so good it’s almost sinful. And that smile...” Jane fanned her face with her napkin. “I felt like butter melting in the sun.”
“He does have a nice smile,” Georgiana agreed softly. She glanced at her cousin, who was eyeing her intently. “Perhaps you should pursue Mr. Ashford.”
Jane laughed. “Somehow I think Mr. Ashford’s interests lie elsewhere.”
“If you are referring to me, darling,” Georgiana drawled, “please remember that he took great pleasure in raking me over the coals last evening.”
“Of course he yelled at you, Gi. You embarrassed him. Men hate to be embarrassed. Worse, I believe you hurt his feelings,” Jane said.
“And he, mine,” Georgiana said matter-of-factly. “In light of last night’s, shall we say, disagreement, it has occurred to me that Mr. Ashford may not feel entirely charitable in allowing Baljit to escort me to the marketplace. If that is the case, then I think we need to—”
Mrs. Kettle chose that moment to enter and announce, “Mr. Ashford has requested to break his fast with you.”
By the pinched look on the old badger’s face, Georgiana could tell exactly what the housekeeper thought of their late-night-early-morning guest.
“Please see him in,” Jane waved to the housekeeper. “This is perfect, Gi. Now we can ask him directly about the market.”
Georgiana glared at her cousin. “You just don’t want me hurting his feelings.”
“No,” Jane pulled a face at her. “I don’t want you sneaking around without an escort. You could get hurt.”
Simon entered and Georgiana felt all the air go out of the room. Jane rose to greet him, for which Georgiana was thankful. She didn’t trust her legs at the moment. Instead she took a mindless bite of something and chewed slowly, considering the man before her.
He was dressed simply, carelessly, in a white cotton shirt and tan trousers that he had stuffed into his boots, which were scuffed and well-worn. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing nicely shaped forearms. He was clean-shaven, and his thick dark locks had been cropped short since last night.
The effect was devastating.
“I apologize if I’ve been forward, Mrs. Fairmonte,” he said politely, “but I thought discussing the particulars of the day while drinking our coffee together would be more efficient.”
Jane beamed. “We are delighted, Mr. Ashford. There is more than enough.”
“Perhaps not,” he said. “I brought this scrap along.”
He turned, but no one was behind him. Simon pursed his lips and strode out the door. “Come on,” he muttered, towing Baljit into the room by his collar. “I’m sorry to say my apprentice is somewhat put out by your antics. This lovely lady,” Simon said to the lad, “is Mrs. Jane Fairmonte.”
Jane hustled forward and curtsied deeply. “Apologies, Baljit. We meant no ill.”
Georgiana rose and walked over to Baljit, who was mumbling something that sounded like surly forgiveness. As soon as he caught sight of her, his large eyes grew enormous and his mouth dropped open. She heard Simon chuckle and shot him an imperious look.
Simon shook his head. “Did I look that pole-axed last night?” he asked Jane.
“You were less transparent,” she reassured him. She chuckled and patted his arm. “Younger men are usually more obvious in their reaction.”
“Getting back a bit of your own, Mrs. Fairmonte?” he countered, obviously unperturbed by Jane’s barb. “Baljit, may I present to you the real Miss Georgiana Phillips,” Simon said cheerfully. “Also known as Fatima.”
Georgiana curtsied, giving the boy time to compose himself. “I apologize for our deception, Baljit. I hope it will not prevent you from escorting me to the marketplace in the future.” She smiled at him and cast Simon a sideways glance.
Baljit stammered, “We...we can go to the market right now if you’d like.”
Georgiana winked at him and Baljit swayed a little. “I’m at your disposal,” she said to the lad.
Simon took her arm and steered her back toward the table, however, pushing in her chair with a little more force than necessary. “Actually,” he said, “you’re at my disposal. And I’ve not yet eaten.”
He filled his plate while Georgiana tapped her foot impatiently. He helped Baljit, explaining to the boy any item that might not be familiar. Georgiana took a sip of her tea, trying to ignore Simon as he took the chair next to hers.
“I’m going to the market this morning,” Georgiana stated stubbornly as he unfolded his napkin. He was sitting much too close, she thought with annoyance. She felt the napkin brush her bare forearm as he settled it in his lap. Somehow she seemed to have trouble dragging in a full breath.
“Of course,” Simon agreed amicably. “Baljit and I are delighted to escort you to whatever destination you choose. You too, Mrs. Fairmonte.”
“You’ll be joining us?” Georgiana said, a bit more sharply than intended.
The idea of spending the entire day with Simon made her skin itch. He was too distracting. He politely raised his brow, waiting for her to continue.
“I do not wish to take you from your work, Mr. Ashford,” Georgiana said with as much diplomacy as she could muster. “I’m sure you have much to do, and I daresay your time would be better spent on something other than chasing after me. I am quite capable of taking care of myself.
“Undoubtedly,” he told her. But as you know, Nathaniel charged me with your keeping.” He added a spoonful of sugar to his coffee and took a sip. Turning his attention back to her, he looked like a cat in cream. “So, Princess, it seems you are my work.”
Baljit was busy at the other end of the table, telling Jane about his studies with Simon. Jane was humoring the boy, but Georgiana knew her cousin’s curiosity well enough to pitch her voice low.
“I assumed,” Georgiana tried another approach, “after our conversation last night that you had little wish to take part in any of the ‘games’—as I believe you put it—I intend to play.”
“While it’s true I’m not interested in games, Miss Phillips,” Simon began, his voice lowered, “I am entrusted with your well-being. If that means I’m to be your playmate for the duration of your stay, then consider me agreeable.”
Any question of whether or not the double entendre was deliberate fled an instant later when Simon’s leg brushed hers under the table
. Georgiana felt heat spread through her leg to her midsection and beyond. An instant later she snapped her mouth shut and narrowed her eyes at him. “Just what are you about, sir?”
Simon smiled a slow, delicious smile, and Georgiana’s knees felt quivery. She looked away, and heard him chuckle. “You’re not the only one who can play games, Princess. What’s sauce for the gander, etcetera.” He went back to eating as though nothing had happened.
It was a warning, Georgiana realized, frowning. If Simon Ashford thought he could manage her with a wicked smile and a brush of his leg, he was sorely mistaken. She rarely backed down from a challenge. Instead of retreating as the rational part of her brain was screaming at her to do, Georgiana let her eyes smolder. She leaned toward him slightly, letting the weight of her breasts hang very close to his hand. Simon looked—of course he looked, men always looked—and he actually stopped with his cup halfway to his mouth.
“How kind of you to offer your services,” she purred. “I assure you they’ll be put to good use.”
After a moment, Simon very carefully set his cup down and turned his full attention to Georgiana. Then he beamed at her. Not his practiced seducer’s smile, but a genuinely amused smile full of warmth and cheer. It gutted her.
“Well played,” he muttered. His expression did not change, but his voice seemed strained. “We need to settle a few things before we continue,” he said tightly.
Georgiana sat up poker-straight. “As you wish.”
“I’m sorry for the rather, ahem, rude things I said to you last night,” Simon said. “I’d like us to start over, if you’re amenable.”
Georgiana nodded slowly, suspicious of his friendly turn.
Simon finished his coffee. “Good. As we are starting fresh, Miss Phillips, I’d like to be blunt. I’m taking you to the marketplace because it is where you want to go, and because I’d rather keep an eye on you than let you run harum scarum all over a foreign land, which I suspect you would if I tried stopping you.”
“Indeed,” Georgiana acknowledged.
“I’d prefer to return to the cantonment shortly after midday if that’s acceptable,” Simon continued, “because it will be blasted hot and I do have other work to attend.”
“That would be fine,” Georgiana agreed, trying not to dicker over the fact that he considered her work.
“I have a few, well I daren’t call them rules because you’d surely go out of your way to break them, but expectations during your stay in Orissa. May I share them with you?”
“Of course,” Georgiana replied, hoping she sounded amiable and not churlish.
“I’ll take you anywhere you like, as long as it’s safe,” he stated. “I expect you’ll listen to my opinion in regards to what is safe.”
“As long as your opinion seems reasonable,” Georgiana bit out.
“As long as you’re open to reason,” Simon returned.
“Always,” Georgiana nodded. “Do you have any other expectations?”
Simon nodded. “You are to keep disruptions to a minimum. Your brother has worked hard to secure this cantonment and I’ll not have you mucking it up because it pleases you.”
Georgiana shook her head. “Believe it or not, Mr. Ashford, I do not rise each morning looking to stir up trouble.”
“And yet you manage to do just that wherever you go,” he murmured, pinning her with a look she couldn’t decipher. “Why is that?”
Whenever she felt attacked, Georgiana felt the urge to counter. With men, the one sure way to gain an upper hand was easy. So she leaned into Simon once again, allowing her breasts to just miss his forearm this time. Looking up at him from beneath heavy eyelids, she pouted a little as she fussed with her own napkin, brushing his leg with her knuckles as she did. The sharp intake of his breath told her she’d hit her mark.
Of course, her breath seemed a little ragged too.
“I guess it’s one of my many talents,” she said coyly.
“My final expectation, Princess,” Simon said coldly, “is that you’ll not pretend to seduce me.”
Georgiana jerked away as though he’d slapped her. Her cheeks were blazing. “I have no intention of seducing you, Mr. Ashford,” she said stiffly.
“I know,” Simon said through his teeth. “That is exactly why I don’t want you smiling at me unless it’s a real smile. No more slumberous eyes either. And do not dangle your chest at me again unless you mean for me to do something about it.”
Georgiana felt her teeth grinding together. “Believe me, Mr. Ashford, when I say you are the last man I would invite to ‘do something’ about my chest.”
Simon grunted, pushing away from the table with enough force that his chair nearly tipped over. Baljit started, utterly dumbfounded, then swallowed his mouthful of food. Jane cleared her throat and looked at Georgiana.
Georgiana rose to her feet. “Let’s go to the market, shall we?”
* * *
Simon’s idea of providing an escort to the market evidently included two company officers. “Mrs. Fairmonte. Miss Phillips. Lieutenants Duff and Tolley,” he said dispassionately. “They’ll be joining us each day.”
Tolley was tall and lanky, with ruffled brown hair, steady blue eyes, and an altogether pleasant face. Duff was shorter and rounder and rather plain. Both men took one look at Georgiana and their eyes grew big. They were well-trained, though, as their mouths only opened a fraction.
Simon turned on her. “Does that ever get old?” he asked bracingly.
“Never,” she said flippantly. “May we speak in private, Mr. Ashford?”
Without awaiting an answer, she grabbed Simon’s arm and pulled him out of earshot. “Redcoats?” she asked. “No one will even dare look at me if you insist on redcoat nursemaids.”
Simon was unmoved. “You’re a resourceful young woman. Dangle your chest and I’m sure you’ll get plenty of attention.” At her icy glare, he shrugged. “It’s the redcoats or no market, your choice.”
Georgiana huffed, but nodded. “Fine. But I’ll not have them on top of me while I speak to the weaver. They may wait outside or watch over Jane while she sketches.”
“Agreed,” Simon said at last. “But I will accompany you.”
Georgiana chewed her lip, thinking she’d rather not have him looming over her shoulder but unsure how to dislodge him. She finally turned to address him, only to find Simon staring at her. “What?” she snapped.
“Are we going?” he asked in a surly voice. “I have other things to do.”
“If you’re too busy,” she said sweetly, “I can write to Nathaniel and ask him for another ‘playmate.’ Someone nicer, perhaps?”
“More like someone you can lead around by the...nose,” he grumbled.
Georgiana spun on her heel, popped open her parasol and marched down the road leading out of the cantonment. Baljit and Jane joined her. She didn’t bother to look back to see if Simon and the redcoats followed.
On the way to market Baljit bounced between the two Englishwomen like a large, happy puppy. He played with Georgiana’s parasol, twirling it around. He chattered away until he stopped talking so abruptly that Jane asked, “Is everything all right, Baljit?”
“Why did you dress as Fatima, Miss Georgiana?” he asked.
Georgiana looked into his warm brown eyes and softened. “I’m sorry for my deception. I was hiding, I suppose,” she answered truthfully.
“From Mister Simon?” Baljit pressed.
“From him,” she agreed. “From my brother. From everyone.”
Baljit scratched his head. “You and Miss Jane are the prettiest girls I have ever seen. Why would you hide?”
Georgiana took his arm, as though they were strolling in Hyde Park. “Thank you for the compliment, Baljit. It’s hard to explain. I gather you were an orphan before Mr. Ashfo
rd came to Cuttack?”
Baljit looked confused. “My father died when I was a baby and my mother...” His voice got a little gruff. “When I was seven, she and my sister got sick.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Baljit,” Georgiana said sincerely. “I imagine life was difficult for you. A young boy with no one to help him. I imagine you got quite skinny, maybe a bit dirty.”
He grinned. “Mister Simon said I looked like a mangy cur.”
“Delightful,” Georgiana said dryly. “And I imagine few of the vendors like to deal with street children.”
“No one will deal with you if you are an orphan,” Baljit agreed heartily. “They take one look at you and they think you will steal from them. They start yelling and throwing things.” Understanding lit his eyes. “People see you and they make bad judgments about you?”
Georgiana nodded. “Something like that.”
“What do they think?” he asked innocently, causing Jane to chuckle.
The market was in sight. Georgiana bit her lip. If she could just satisfy him with a vague answer, she could distract him by asking for directions to the weaver’s address. Georgiana grasped for anything.
“Sometimes people, men and women both, think I don’t look...nice,” she said delicately.
“English people are not very bright,” Baljit scowled, clearly offended by this slight to the object of his new infatuation. “You look beautiful.”
“Sometimes they, well men, think I’m not very smart.”
Baljit gave a dismissive snort and waved his hand. “They only need to hear you speak to know you are brilliant.”
Simon was suddenly at her other side, reaching across her midsection to take her parasol from Baljit and hand it back to her. “They think she likes kissing, Baljit,” he said without emotion. “Or rather, they think they might like kissing her.”
Georgiana and Jane both glared at him.
Baljit considered Simon’s words. “Do you like kissing, Miss Georgiana?”
“No,” she said pointedly at Simon.
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