An Inconvenient Kiss

by Carole Kimberly

  Simon requested bathwater and a small repast be brought to his room. While he waited, he peeked in on Baljit. He watched the lad sleeping, snoring softly, and Simon’s stomach clenched again. It was disquieting to realize he was so affected by the fate of others. It made him feel uncomfortable, vulnerable—as though his heart existed outside of himself for all the world to see.

  Chapter Eight

  Simon tried not to scowl at the woman on his arm as they entered the officers’ club for the evening’s distraction. He’d not seen her the last two days, and she’d barely glanced at him since he’d arrived to fetch her for the evening. She was civil when necessary, and then just barely, otherwise she acted as though he did not exist. Simon freely admitted to himself that being ignored by Georgiana was unbearable.

  Unfortunately, her appearance this evening merely highlighted how desperately he wanted her attention.

  Her evening gown was a silk tissue robe of soft rose over a cream-colored slip, the bodice was low cut and trimmed with a scrap of lace for propriety. She had pulled her hair back in a sleek and elegant chignon, adorned with a pearl pin; no fussy ringlets or frizzes for Georgiana. The style was simple and polished, and it suited her. She looked exquisite. By the sidelong glances from the male population Simon knew he was not alone in his assessment.

  They took a turn around the room, with Simon introducing her to the small gatherings of people scattered throughout the large hall. Georgiana was unerringly polite, though her composure had a bit of chill to it. Simon knew a defense tactic when he saw one. By keeping everyone at arm’s length, Georgiana was assured her brother could not blame her when the others started talking.

  She was listening politely to Witfield and Avery fawn all over her. It wasn’t long before two young officers joined their group, clamoring for her attention. They chattered and squawked and commiserated over the lamentable lack of luxuries in such savage lands. Simon felt like snorting in disgust, though he managed to keep his thoughts to himself.

  Their discussion was not without benefit, however. By the wistful looks in the gentlemen’s eyes, and the rather jealous glances he was receiving at her elbow, Simon knew he’d sealed their fate. The world, or at least the cantonment, believed he and Georgiana were lovers.

  Georgiana managed to free them a few moments later, and they were beckoned to join a group perilously close to where Nathaniel was speaking to Sir Jon and Jane. Nathaniel looked at her then looked away, without acknowledging her at all. Simon could feel Georgiana’s demeanor change ever so slightly, turn brittle. If he hadn’t spent most of the last month studying her every expression, he may never have caught it—or become incensed on her behalf. For Georgiana to be cut by the evening’s host, her own brother, was beyond humiliating.

  As soon as it was polite, and without being too obvious, Simon disengaged her from the group. As he expected, she began moving away from where Nathaniel stood. He was about to attempt another reconciliation, when she surprised him by breaking her silence.

  “Please stop scowling, Mr. Ashford,” she said just low enough for him to hear. “I have a reputation to maintain as the most celebrated Jezebel on three continents and I should hate for my adoring public to think my paramour is dissatisfied with my attentions.”

  Simon stifled another scowl, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “I think we both know, Princess, that I’m less than satisfied. And since we are, for all intents and purposes, lovers, you may as well call me Simon.”

  Georgiana nodded at a group of young bucks and pulled Simon in the other direction. “We’re not lovers, Mr. Ashford, regardless of popular opinion. And if you are less than satisfied, I suggest you stop including my brother in our affairs.”

  “Your brother,” he bit out, “has no bearing on the matter.”

  “I admire your work ethic,” she purred. “I really do. But when it’s just the two of us, you need not prevaricate.”

  “I could throttle you sometimes,” he muttered. “Contrary to what you think, Georgiana, and contrary to what your brother has led you to believe, you’re not a job to me. I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you.”

  Mrs. Lucinda Daltry and her gaggle of hens prevented Georgiana from responding. Simon groaned inwardly. Most of the ladies they’d met barely allowed themselves to greet Georgiana. But Lucinda Daltry was the worst sort of gossip, and Simon knew exactly why she wanted an introduction. As Mrs. Daltry was known to be rather vicious when crossed, Simon thought it prudent not to snub her. Georgiana didn’t need any more trouble on his account.

  “Mrs. Daltry, Mrs. Feldon, Mrs. Greyston,” Simon said as chivalrously as possible, “may I introduce Lieutenant Colonel Phillips’ sister, Miss Georgiana Phillips.”

  Mrs. Daltry inclined her head, her flaming, frizzed curls bouncing as she did so. The other ladies tittered behind their fans. Simon felt faintly nauseated.

  “The famous Miss Phillips,” Lucinda Daltry crowed. “We’ve heard so much about you, my dear. Even in this backward part of the world.”

  “Indeed,” Georgiana said coolly. “Though I think we may agree that ‘infamous’ is a more accurate description of my reputation.”

  “Quite,” Lucinda Daltry agreed. “You look ravishing, my dear,” she said as though they were bosom beaux. “But make sure you wear your bonnet. The Indian sun is so much harsher than that back home. It can be aging on the skin, especially for mature women.”

  “I’m sure it must be,” Georgiana purred. “May I remark that you look absolutely lovely, Mrs. Daltry? I had always heard that ladies with such vibrant red hair such as yours should never wear yellow for fear of looking pallid. On you, however, the effect is positively...charming.”

  Clearly shaken by Georgiana’s composure, Mrs. Daltry bared her pointy little teeth in a poor approximation of a smile. “Delightful that you and our own Major Ashford have become close friends so quickly.”

  “And how remarkable that you and your friends bothered to notice,” Georgiana drawled.

  “Oh, we did,” Mrs. Daltry declared, leaning closer to Georgiana. “We are all agog to know something, my dear. How do you do it?”

  “How do I do what, exactly?” Georgiana returned, clearly not cowed.

  Lucinda Daltry and her friends snickered again, making Simon wish he’d never been part of the same Society as such nasty, small-minded people.

  “How do you entice so many men? And so quickly?” the woman asked.

  Georgiana flashed her most charming smile, though Simon noticed her eyes were cold as ice. “What a bold observation, ladies. Alas, I think your husbands could better answer your question,” Georgiana said, inclining her head and walking away.

  Simon savored their shocked expressions for just a moment before trailing after her. The knowledge that this was how her life played out, that she could never enter polite society without enduring such scorn and ridicule, left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was the unwitting architect of this, after all. Twice. He took her hand and rested it in the crook of his arm.

  “Don’t mind them, Georgiana,” he said. “They are shallow and stupid and not worthy of you.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said quietly, clearly stifling a smirk. “Which is why I don’t give one fig about having insulted them. Remember, I cut my teeth on the proper grande dames of Society. Right after the whole ugly affair with Rowling, I was drawn into a verbal jousting match by my mother’s bosom friend—the very moralistic, very unsympathetic, quite formidable Lady Halliburton. That was distressing to me. These people are merely a nuisance.”

  Georgiana looked at him and for a moment her icy mantle dropped away. Her eyes were warm with sympathy. “Poor Simon. I forgot this is your first experience being shunned.”

  “Is it always this bad?” Simon asked, praying he was wrong and wishing he could protect her from such insults. Perhaps these occurrences
were rare.

  “No,” she said, her icy veneer firmly back in place. “Usually it’s worse.”

  * * *

  Dinner was dreadful, and Simon barely tolerated it. Nathaniel and Sir Jon sat at the head of the table, with Jane and the higher ranking officers and their wives on either side. Simon was supposed to have occupied the seat next to Jane, but he managed to discreetly direct Tolley to take his place, leaving him a seat next to Georgiana. Nath could either call attention to the change in plans, thereby openly embarrassing them all, or he could let it go and glower at Simon. Nath, naturally, chose the latter.

  Georgiana had been more amused than impressed by his gesture. “I don’t see what you’re hoping to accomplish with this nonsense,” she told him as he pushed in her chair. “My brother looks ready to skewer you.”

  “Just doing my job,” he returned sweetly. “If the resident Jezebel can’t even upset one dinner arrangement then she’s clearly not trying very hard, is she? Besides, this way you can’t accuse me of not mustering the proper enthusiasm.”

  Georgiana’s violet eyes danced, and Simon felt himself growing unaccountably warm. “Indeed,” she said, taking a sip of claret. “After all of your scowling I was afraid I might have to replace you with a more ardent beau, and quite frankly I don’t know where I’d find the time to break in a new one.”

  Simon chuckled as she turned away to speak to her other table companion, Captain Skeffington, Simon’s second-in-command over the cantonment’s expansion. To Simon’s left was a first lieutenant named Riggs. Riggs was less interested in polite conversation and more interested in peeking past him at Georgiana’s cleavage.

  Simon caught the young man ogling her, again, and Riggs turned a deep shade of scarlet. At Simon’s poisoned look, Riggs suddenly became very interested in his meal. Simon took advantage of his newfound appetite and turned his attention back to Georgiana.

  Skeffington was too enthralled with his companion to notice Simon listening. Of course he was blathering on, trying to impress Georgiana with talk about the riches of India. What he’d failed to understand was that Georgiana cared nothing for jewels and precious metals. So he chattered on about gold and tiger rubies and sapphires as big as her fist.

  Georgiana nodded graciously, asking questions here and there as appropriate. Simon waited patiently, enjoying several forkfuls of roasted pheasant, knowing exactly what Skeffington was working up to. Hearing where they were in the conversation, he put down his fork, wiped his mouth, and picked up his glass of wine to wait.

  “I’d be charmed to show you some of the more interesting parts of India, Miss Phillips,” Skeffington said. “I think you may find them delightful, and your delight would be my pleasure.”

  “Speaking of delightful, Percy,” Simon broke in. “How’s your wife?”

  Skeffington looked as though he’d swallowed a bug. Georgiana eyed Simon coolly to chastise him, but her lips curled slightly in a hint of a smile that had Simon wishing they were anywhere else.

  “Evelyn is fine,” Skeffington said through clenched teeth. He glanced at Georgiana, who was taking a bite of poached pear, clearly disinterested in the conversation. By the look on his face Simon would wager that Skeff understood he’d never had a chance.

  “Is she in London?” Simon continued, ignoring Skeffington’s dirty look. “I imagine she’s in town for the Season. The ladies do love London.”

  “Yes,” Skeffington said crushingly. “I imagine all the respectable ladies are in London at this time.”

  Simon didn’t dare look at Georgiana as he leaned closer into her to address his colleague. “Percy,” he said amiably, “I believe you may want to clarify your statement. Because from where I’m sitting it sounds as though you just insulted Lieutenant Colonel Phillips’ female guests.”

  Skeffington sneered. “I meant to insult only one, I assure you.”

  Simon kept his expression carefully blank. It was a façade, however. His blood was pounding angrily in his ears, and he prayed Georgiana didn’t notice how tightly he crumpled his napkin in his fist. He’d gladly pound this man into the mud if given half the chance.

  Instead Simon shrugged nonchalantly and said, “I find it inexcusable to subject the Lieutenant Colonel’s sister to such boorish comments, especially since she’s done nothing to warrant it. Perhaps you’d care to apologize for your coarse manners. If not...” Simon looked at Skeffington and let his smile drop, allowing the force of his anger to show on his face, “...I’m more than willing to take this discussion outside.”

  Skeffington noted the look in Simon’s eye, because his bravado dissipated. He stated, “I apologize if I offended you, Miss Phillips. I merely meant that ladies prefer to show themselves off to polite company over rusticating in the country.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Georgiana said graciously, “though the apology is unnecessary. I imagine you’re merely echoing popular sentiment.”

  Skeffington nodded curtly then turned away to converse with his other companion. Simon was still trying to tamp down the fury he felt at the insult, thus he was not able to readily formulate a bon mot to counter Georgiana’s silent scrutiny.

  “You didn’t have to make the poor man apologize,” she said finally.

  Simon shrugged. “Yes, I did.”

  Georgiana matched his shrug with one of her own. “You quite obviously baited him. What I would like to know is why so much chivalry on my behalf? Please don’t tell me you feel guilty,” she said.

  Simon looked into her eyes for longer than propriety dictated, letting himself just drown in their depths. Her expression softened, just a little, and Simon’s hardened. “Perhaps,” he admitted.

  “I suppose you do,” Georgiana said sighing, setting down her glass. “I suppose we both know I could be sitting in London right now, with all of Skeffington’s respectable ladies. I could be gadding about from ballroom to ballroom, cooing over ribbons and fripperies, gossiping over whose neckline is too low, and whose sense of worth is too high.

  “I imagine my rich husband—and I would have a fabulously rich husband, of course, possibly even a duke—my rich husband and I would have a brood of gorgeous brats by now, and we’d spend lovely, idle days picnicking in the park or visiting the museum or riding around on our grand estate. I’d never have to worry about monsoons washing me away or crocodiles eating me for breakfast.”

  “Yes,” Simon said, staring morosely into his wine glass. If he didn’t feel guilty before he bloody well did now. “That should have been your life.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “That would have been my life. And what a boring bunch of nonsense it would have been.”

  Simon narrowed his eyes at her. “Excuse me?”

  Georgiana shrugged. “I cannot imagine a worse fate than sitting around a fancy parlor visiting with people I care nothing about. Parading through an endless array of balls and dinner parties and musicales that have nothing to do with the real world—that’s not who I am.

  “My life has been singular, Simon. It truly has. I’ve seen things most English women, most English men, will never see. I’ve climbed mountains that touch the clouds and I’ve gone swimming in oceans as blue as sapphires. I’ve camped in the desert and traveled through jungles most people have never even dreamed existed.”

  Georgiana smiled up at him, and he felt his heart leap. “I’ve waltzed with princes and prayed with mystics and haggled with crabby spice vendors. I have lived my life, really lived my life, and I have no regrets about it, Simon, not one. So please believe me when I say that if you insist on feeling guilty for something that has happened between us, make sure your guilt is for the right thing.”

  Simon considered her words for the rest of the dinner course. It all seemed so absurd that one kiss could destroy reputations, families and honor. Until tonight he hadn’t felt the full impact of her ruination. It was
sad that so much could be taken away for such a minor indiscretion.

  He hadn’t realized how much he wanted, needed, her forgiveness until she’d given it. It was liberating.

  “You look so serious, Mr. Ashford. Please tell me you aren’t having trouble deciding which sin you feel most guilty for.” Georgiana chuckled, rising from her chair.

  “I was just thinking that you are the most philosophical Jezebel I’ve ever met,” he murmured, jumping to his feet to assist her.

  Georgiana took his proffered arm and walked toward the hall with him. “This has been a fine evening, Mr. Ashford,” she said conspiratorially. “The public has reveled in their scorn of me—the women all scandalized, the men all titillated. I upset dinner, albeit mildly, and two men almost came to blows. For the grand finale I exonerated an ex-lover while securing his admiration. And we’ve not even had our coffee yet. I daresay I may be the most successful fallen woman ever to have fallen.”

  Simon laughed outright, drawing disapproving glances from the hens. And from Nathaniel. But he could laugh over it now instead of feeling guilt-ridden. The truth was these people and their small opinions and small minds did not matter.

  The men went to the smoking room for brandy and cigars, where a large part of the discussion centered on the Bengali rebels and the territory. The usual negativity toward India also cropped up, and Simon quietly sipped his drink. Soon nostalgia for England would dominate the conversation, and then they’d all sigh wistfully and join the ladies.

  Simon chatted mindlessly, feeling restless to get back to Georgiana. It was then that he overheard Sir Jon’s conversation with Nathaniel. Sir Jon was talking a lot of nonsense about ancient ruins and noble savages. If he didn’t know the man was a raving eccentric, he would have guessed the old codger was in his cups. It had been his limited experience that Sir Jon’s grand schemes frequently came to naught, as the ideas seemed to disappear as quickly as they appeared. But to his dawning horror, Simon realized Nathaniel was actually encouraging this one.