An Inconvenient Kiss

by Carole Kimberly

  “Things quieted down after that. We learned several tribal dances and got fairly inebriated on palm wine, which was quite delicious. Then we participated in a tribal wedding ceremony, where we apparently got married. We spent the rest of the time hiking through the jungle and the rain to get here.”

  Jane had stopped buttering her bread mid-stroke and was staring at Georgiana with her mouth open. She shut it with an audible click of her teeth. “Married?” she choked, dropping her bread and pulling her chair closer. “You have to tell me everything!”

  “I just did,” Georgiana scolded. “And we’re not really married.”

  Jane glared at her. “Of course not,” she countered dismissively. “Who cares about that! But did you—?” She waved her free hand suggestively.

  Georgiana sniffed primly. “That’s an entirely indecent question.”

  “I know!” her cousin shot back. “Did you?”

  “Hush,” Georgiana chided, her cheeks turning pink. “Someone might hear you.”

  Jane’s eyes grew round. “I knew it! Georgiana Phillips, you are a wicked, wicked woman!” A soft snort of laughter escaped her lips. “It’s about time!”

  Georgiana rolled her eyes. “You’re utterly mad. And we have more important things to discuss than my ‘jungle adventure,’ as you called it. I don’t think I like Professor Thorne.”

  Jane stiffened slightly. “You’ve only just met Julian. He was entirely kind and extremely obliging in our efforts to search for you. I think it’s a bit premature to judge him, don’t you? And he’s very generously arranged for us to stay with him while we’re in Puri.”

  “I didn’t mean to malign...Julian, is it?” Georgiana asked, a frown tugging at her lips. “I merely meant to suggest that he seems rather astute. I’m afraid he’ll take our measure quickly if we spend too much time with him.”

  “Yes,” Jane agreed smoothly. “He is extremely intelligent. But I don’t think we need to hide anything, other than your inexplicable dislike of him. He doesn’t seem offended by the idea of a woman aiding her grandfather’s research.”

  Georgiana snorted. “Is he offended by the idea of a renowned scholar being little more than a drunken sot?”

  “Probably not,” Jane retorted. “In either case, Grandpapa hasn’t had a drop since you disappeared.”

  “Oh,” Georgiana muttered, surprised and touched.

  Jane sighed. “Gi, there’s little we can do about it anyway. And if Julian does figure it out, what’s the worst that could happen? Grandpapa is ostracized from the world of academics and is never published again. It’s not the end of the world.”

  “Actually, the worst is that we starve,” Georgiana pointed out.

  “No,” Jane disagreed. “One of us—or both of us—could marry and set Grandpapa up for life. I think it’s better for such calamity to happen now, while we’re still young enough to find husbands who aren’t toothless and drooling.”

  Georgiana rolled her eyes.

  Jane sighed. “I’m beginning to think you’re a hopeless romantic, Gi.”

  Georgiana shook her head. “You know I’m not. It’s not that I hope to marry for love,” she began. “I just... I hate the idea of being forced, or forcing someone, into a lifetime of obligation.”

  “You’re just afraid a husband will clip your wings. But I think it’s admirable that you’ll stick to your principles even in the face of abject poverty,” Jane said, taking a sip of coffee. “Even if it means you’ll end up a lonely old spinster who spends her days talking to no one but her books and her cat. Never fear, however,” Jane smirked. “You and grandpapa may both come and live with me and my future husband.”

  Georgiana glared at her. “No.”

  “Oh please, Gi,” Jane snorted delicately. “Having taken part in that old and respectable institution called marriage, I can assure you it’s not the dire affair you suppose it to be.

  “As a matter of fact,” Jane continued, all traces of levity gone from her voice, “I wouldn’t mind returning to the marital state.” She nibbled her bread daintily.

  The thought of losing her dear cousin’s companionship caused a swell of panic and anger to wash over Georgiana. She was too tired to keep herself from snapping, “You’ve only just met him. You can’t possibly know him well enough to be thinking matrimony!”

  Jane shrugged. “We’ve just met, it’s true,” she agreed. “But during a crisis a person’s true self emerges. When we were terrified that we’d never find you, Julian was steady and supportive. More than that, he’s been kind. He’s taken us in and managed the situation very well.”

  “What about poor Tolley?” Georgiana asked, her heart sinking. “He’s fine-looking, and his future seems well set. I find him rather blithe, too, which would likely make him an easier person to live with than someone as imposing and arrogant as Thorne. Besides, the poor man is terribly smitten with you.”

  Jane sighed. “You may want a husband whom you can lead by the nose, my dear Gi, but I do not. And while I mean no disrespect to Lieutenant Tolley, I don’t believe we suit in the important ways. He talks about returning to England, and I know that I can never go back. I’ve seen too much of the world to be happy there. Besides, Tolley is still very young—maybe not in years but in experience.

  “I want someone who knows himself...someone who’s able to take care of me, and not the other way around.” Jane waved her butter knife absently before reaching for a mango slice. “I’m not like you, Gi. I’m not strong. I’m tired of traipsing all over the world and balancing accounts and worrying about the future. I’m tired of holding this little band of ours together. I’d gladly give up a portion of my independence to a man I respect and esteem. Especially if it means I wouldn’t have to worry about wild animals and bills and dry scholarly research.”

  Georgiana bit her lip.

  “Besides,” Jane said, sheepishly, “I’m tired of waking up alone. There’s something comforting about sharing a bed with a warm, strong body.”

  The memory of waking up next to Simon flooded back to her, and Georgiana knew her cheeks were coloring. While she could empathize with Jane, she didn’t want to lose her cousin. Especially not to the man who could destroy everything she’d spent the last years of her life building.

  “You don’t have to rush this, Janie,” Georgiana said. “Get to know him before you start thinking of marriage.”

  “Rush?” Jane said calmly, “Darling, Henri has been gone for five years.”

  “Why Thorne?” Georgiana persisted. “Why now?”

  Jane put down her breakfast and looked squarely at Georgiana. “The very first time I met Henri, Gi,” she said slowly, “I knew there was something about him. Something felt different. It was as though I knew instinctively that there might be something more, something deeper, with him. And I knew he felt it too. It felt...right. Somehow, it seemed I had possibilities with Henri that I didn’t have with others.”

  “So it was love at first sight?” Georgiana asked, trying not to scoff.

  “No, not at all,” Jane shook her head. “Love grew over time. But I found myself eager for his company in a way that I had never known before. I was—oh, I don’t know—wonderfully content when he was with me. Like I had found a part of myself that I’d never known I’d lost.”

  Jane met her eye. “I feel that again with Julian.”

  Georgiana considered Jane’s words, struck by how closely they mirrored her own feelings for Simon. “That doesn’t mean you should marry him,” she said, though whether to her cousin or to herself she couldn’t be certain.

  “Of course not,” Jane said patiently. “But I would regret it for the rest of my days if I didn’t at least allow myself to be open to such a possibility.”

  “But Henri’s death devastated you!” Georgiana said emphatically, feeling this conversation was
cutting a little too close to home. “You could get hurt again.”

  Jane sighed. “Yes, I could. But if I close myself off for fear of the bad then I also close myself off from the good. If you give up happiness to avoid hurt, Gi, you’re only living half a life. I don’t want that anymore.”

  “Well,” Georgiana said, knowing she was being petulant. “I’m sorry you’ve only found half a life with me and Grandfather.”

  She rose, cutting off Jane’s protests, and stared down her nose at the one person she had always relied on, hating herself for what she was about to say, but unable to stop the angry stream of words. “Good luck living your very rich and full life with a man you barely know!”

  Georgiana stalked out of the room without daring to look back at her dear cousin’s face. It hurt too much.

  She strode blindly down the corridor, praying Jane wasn’t coming after her for fear she’d not stop herself from saying something truly unforgivable. As she mounted the stairs, taking them with more haste than grace, she heard a soft voice call her name.

  “Miss Phillips?” the voice called again, uncertainly.

  Georgiana stopped and muttered a curse under her breath. In spite of herself, she forced herself to breathe deeply. She spun on her heel and looked at the young woman standing in the foyer.

  The girl was a paragon of English beauty—almost. She looked to be about eighteen and was quite lovely enough to have caused most mortal hearts to skip a beat. She had thick blond hair, the color of spun gold, and her skin was milky white and soft-looking. Enormous brown eyes fluttered behind luxurious lashes, giving her a doe-like appearance. The only thing out of place on her classic face was her mouth—the soft pink lips nearly perfectly heart-shaped, giving her just a touch of worldliness. Of debauchery.

  A modern day Helen of Troy, Georgiana mused.

  “Have we met?” Georgiana asked, moving down the stairs toward her surprising visitor.

  “Forgive my forwardness, Miss Phillips,” she squeaked. “But I wanted to see you most urgently. I—” she sniffed, tried to rally, then lost the battle altogether and began sobbing.

  Georgiana sighed inwardly. Perhaps they could have a good cry together. Taking the young lady’s arm, she handed her a handkerchief and led her outside to the courtyard. They began a slow turn in the shade of the colonnade, and Georgiana gave her unknown companion a few minutes before she spoke.

  “Please forgive my surprise. Most proper young ladies do not care to meet me,” Georgiana joked gently. “Especially not with any sense of urgency.”

  This only succeeded in making the tears fall harder, so Georgiana stopped walking and grabbed her extra handkerchief—perhaps she was practical to a fault, she brooded—and gently started dabbing the girl’s eyes. Clearly she was not going to manage an expedient dash to solitude. Mustering her patience, she cut to the quick. “Since I’m making rather a hash of this, why don’t you tell me your name so that I at least know how to address you?”

  Between sobs she managed to say, “My name is Celia Woodford. Julian Thorne is my uncle.”

  Of course. Georgiana’s list of grievances against Professor Thorne was growing every moment.

  “Ah, Miss Woodford,” Georgiana said soothingly. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance. Though you seem to have sprung a leak, dear.”

  Celia Woodford laughed a bit at the jest, clearly trying to rein in her tears. “I’m sorry, Miss Phillips. It’s just that I’ve had no one else to talk to. Uncle Julian has been wonderful, but he seems so uncomfortable with the situation. Whenever I talk to him about it, he pats my arm and tells me everything will be fine. I think he just doesn’t know what else to do.”

  “That seems to be the usual response when males feel helpless,” Georgiana offered dryly.

  “Of course your cousin Jane seems terribly sweet,” Celia blathered on. “I met her yesterday at my uncle’s request. She has been very kind to me, even when I...I...cry...” Her lip quivered in warning.

  “Yes Jane is always patient and solicitous,” Georgiana said softly hoping to stop the imminent tears. “In fact, she’s the one I turn to when I’m in a state such as yours. She always knows just what to say.”

  “Even so, she cannot help entirely with my situation.” Celia sniffed. “I don’t believe anyone can help, but Simon, er, Mr. Ashford, suggested I speak with you anyway.”

  So Simon had already met this paragon—and he’d shared his Christian name with her. She bristled at the thought. Georgiana studied the girl out of the corner of her eye. She really was exquisite, she mused, and so young.

  “Wonderful,” she muttered out loud. “What else did Mr. Ashford say?”

  Celia looked shyly at Georgiana. “He had to meet with Uncle Julian right after breakfast but he mentioned that he’d be willing to discuss this with you later today.”

  “How generous of him,” Georgiana said dryly. She was growing uncomfortably jealous at the level of intimacy Simon seemed to share with the young and beautiful Miss Woodford. “He also said this might be rather awkward for us, but that you’d understand,” Cecilia sniffed.

  “He said that?” Georgiana demurred.

  The girl nodded. “He’s quite remarkable,” she said wistfully.

  Steeling her nerves, Georgiana strove to keep her voice steady. “How exactly did Mr. Ashford think I might help?”

  “He...it was one kiss, Miss Phillips, nothing more. I want to marry him....but...” The girl hiccupped on a sob. “But now I’m ruined!” Celia blurted out, the tears commencing once again.

  There suddenly wasn’t enough air. Georgiana felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. The thought of Simon kissing this girl made her heart clutch. How could he? She had refused his proposal, twice she reminded herself, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to marry someone else. Georgiana tried to marshal her thoughts, feeling completely out of control. He’d never be with two women in the same day, she told herself. He wouldn’t go from her to another so quickly...

  Her breath caught as the memory of their first kiss—Simon with Octavia Fenimere, then kissing her—floated through her mind unbidden.

  Hot tears pricked her eyes, yet somehow she managed to keep them from falling.

  “I see you two have met,” a cheery baritone called from the doorway.

  Georgiana’s temper flared as she struggled to maintain her composure. I am going to murder him! she thought blackly. White-hot jealousy stabbed through her, and Georgiana relished it for a moment. No, murder was much too good for him. She was going to castrate the blackguard and then torment him all the rest of his miserable days.

  Fighting a wave of nausea, she forced herself to turn and face Simon. “Speak of the devil and the devil appears.”

  Simon took one look at her black expression and his brow knitted. “Miss Woodford, a pleasure to see you again,” he bowed to Celia. He took Georgiana’s hand and brushed a delicate kiss atop her knuckles. “Miss Phillips.”

  Georgiana struggled to find the right words, something witty and diplomatic. Instead she shouted, “Oh...stubble it, you degenerate lout!”

  “Excuse me?” he asked, clearly taken aback.

  “Why are so intent on corrupting everything you touch?” she roared vehemently.

  “Georgiana? What the devil are you talking about?”

  “You!” she snapped, her heart in her throat.

  His bemused expression was the last straw and she released all the anger and frustration welling within her. Gesturing to Celia, she spat, “Taking advantage of an innocent girl! How could you? She’s little more than a child!”

  Georgiana continued viciously, hurt and humiliated beyond all reason. “But why should that stop you? You do whatever you please and hang the consequences—because you don’t have to suffer them!”

  She didn’t bother lettin
g him respond. “This is all just a game to you, isn’t it? Playing with people? Using them and tossing them aside when you’re through.” She shot him a poisonous look and snarled under her breath, “Why do you even bother to put your trousers on in the morning, I wonder?”

  She paused mid-rant to catch her breath and dash away what may have been an errant tear. Miss Celia Woodford was gaping, her jaw dropped down to her chest. Simon looked stunned. They both stared at her for a long, awkward moment. Then a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. Georgiana was about to rail at him again, when Celia found her voice.

  “Miss Phillips!” she said, mortified. “You misunderstood my blubbering! Mr. Ashford did not compromise me!”

  Georgiana closed her mouth, too stunned to respond.

  Simon shook his head, holding her gaze. His smile grew impossibly wide.

  “I appreciate your willingness to champion me, but Mr. Ashford has been nothing but a kind and true gentleman since my uncle introduced us over breakfast this morning,” the girl said sincerely.

  Georgiana cleared her throat. “Ah,” she said. She knew her cheeks were blazing. “You met over breakfast.”

  “Yes,” Celia said. “Accidentally, I’m afraid. I haven’t wanted to speak with anyone since...” She stopped before the tears came again. “Uncle Julian mentioned you were staying with us. I’d hoped you’d be at breakfast, so I came down before noon for the first time since I arrived in India. You weren’t there—which is completely understandable, of course—but Mr. Ashford was. He saw my distress and suggested that you wouldn’t consider it forward of me if I introduce myself to you. He thought you might be able to...to advise me.”

  So Simon hadn’t been unfaithful to her. Georgiana exhaled deeply, relief and shame washing over her in equal parts. Not that she had a claim on him, she reminded herself.

  Georgiana looked from Celia to Simon, who had very clearly enjoyed her ridiculous display. No doubt he assumed her little misunderstanding meant she was jealous, she thought grimly. Judging by the unabashed grin on Simon’s face, there was no doubt he’d take great delight crowing over her misunderstanding. Well, she would take her lumps. Later.