Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Georgiana floated down the stairs a bit sore, rather tired and very, very happy. She’d been thoroughly debauched, she mused, smiling to herself, and as Simon had predicted, she’d loved every minute of it.
Simon was already on the veranda sipping coffee with Professor Thorne and Jane. He rose from his seat to greet her, a secret smile in his eyes. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him, though she managed to keep her poise as she made her hellos. Once everyone was settled again, Simon watched her select slices of mango, basted eggs, a buttered scone, several steamed dumplings, a sweet fried banana and a healthy scoop of coconut chutney.
“You’re hungry this morning,” he noted under his breath.
At the sound of his voice, a slow, satisfied heat climbed from her knees to her brain. His lips curved in amusement, and a very vivid image of what he had done with those lips little more than an hour ago made her pulse race.
“I believe the sea air has bolstered my appetite,” she said cavalierly.
“As it has mine,” he agreed, taking a sip of coffee.
Georgiana ate quietly, pushing away lurid thoughts of Simon. When she finally looked up, Julian Thorne was watching her in that straightforward manner that seemed to be his custom. Rather than being offended, she smiled shyly, hoping to make amends for her behavior yesterday. She had apologized—and he’d graciously accepted—but her embarrassment at her own behavior lingered.
“Miss Phillips,” Julian Thorne started, his brown eyes dancing. “Mr. Ashford just told me that you have given us your blessing to search for the Black Pagoda on behalf of your grandfather.”
Georgiana considered her words. “I must admit I’m relieved. It’s a dangerous venture, Professor Thorne, and I’ve had quite enough adventure, at least for the time being. Besides, Grandfather’s too old to be rushing off into the jungle chasing legends. I’m confident that you and Mr. Ashford will do an honorable job in his stead,” she said softly. To her own surprise, she meant it. “Grandfather’s fairly champing at the bit to see the preparations for the festival of Rath Yatra, so the arrangement works well.”
“I’m glad to know you’ll be kept safe,” Julian glanced at Jane, who blushed beautifully. When he turned his attention back to Georgiana, his relief was palpable. “Thank you for your trust,” he said sincerely. “We won’t let Sir Jon down.”
A sound from the doorway drew everyone’s attention. Celia Woodford was standing on the threshold, looking uncertain. Julian and Simon rose to welcome her. For a moment she looked ready to flee, but Jane, ever cagey, rose to her feet and greeted the girl with such enthusiasm that she could not slip away without causing a scene. Jane closed the distance between them and gave Celia a hug.
“Darling,” she encouraged, taking the young girl’s arm “you’ve arrived just in time! Your uncle was just about to tell us all about the festival. It sounds wondrous!”
Georgiana knew that warm but steely voice well—it was the voice that had always managed to get her out of her room and back into the world, the voice that had assured her that no matter how grim the moment seemed, everything would be fine. It was the voice of hope, of love and loyalty.
Georgiana smiled as Janie dragged an unwitting Celia to the table and fussed over the girl as only Jane could. The look of admiration and desire on Julian Thorne’s face spoke volumes. As Georgiana watched her cousin comforting Celia under the professor’s watchful eye, she knew it was time for Jane to find a new life.
But oh, she was going to miss her dear cousin dreadfully.
Julian, clearly relieved to have his niece out of her room, was clumsy in his eagerness to have Celia join them. He loaded a plate of food for her, chattering about this and that. She smiled wanly at his efforts, and took a bite or two to be polite.
Celia met Georgiana’s eye. “I’m done crying, Miss Phillips,” she said resolutely. “May we talk today?”
“Of course,” Georgiana smiled.
Julian snapped his fingers, causing them both to jump. “I just remembered,” he bubbled. “You have a letter, Celia, arrived yesterday afternoon. I think it’s still on my desk.” Without warning, he trotted happily off to retrieve it.
“I think your uncle is glad you’re joining us,” Jane gently teased.
Julian returned and handed Celia an envelope. “It’s from my cousin Charles,” she said softly, accepting the missive. “He’s such a dear.”
The group began discussing the day’s plans as Celia rose and stood at the rail overlooking the garden to read the letter. Simon and Julian were leaving for Konark before midday, once the rains had tapered off a bit. Jane and Georgiana had promised that they’d watch the Rath Yatra procession from the palazzo’s balcony and not venture into the crowds.
Two of the marines who had accompanied the expedition from Cuttack would stay at the house, more to keep Sir Jon and his progeny safe from themselves than anything. Simon apparently had given the men explicit orders that Jane and Georgiana were not, under any circumstances, to leave the palazzo without an escort. If all went well, Julian and Simon expected to return long before the festival’s final procession in fifteen days.
While Simon’s heavy-handedness irked, it was also flattering. Georgiana swore silently that she’d do her best to abide by his wishes—even if it meant giving up a portion of her freedom.
“I’ve just had the most surprising news!” Celia exclaimed. Looking around excitedly, she explained, “Charles has written to tell me that Jonathan is sailing to Calcutta as we speak. According to this, he shall arrive in India within the month!”
Julian smiled unabashedly. “That’s wonderful news, Celia. As soon as I’m back from Konark, we’ll arrange transportation to Calcutta.”
“I’ll write to him of our plans,” Celia said eagerly. A moment later, her grin faltered. “Or is that too forward? Perhaps he’s not coming to see me after all.”
“What did the letter say, dear?” Jane prodded gently. “Surely your cousin gives a reason for Lord Bonnefield’s visit?”
“Charles says Jonathan is coming to do some business with the Company at the behest of his father,” Celia said slowly. “Perhaps it’s merely business.”
“An excuse, no doubt, to find you,” Julian said, comforting his niece.
The girl was not convinced. “But what if it’s not? I couldn’t bear to make a fool of myself in front of him! Not if he doesn’t share my affections.”
Celia looked at Georgiana, her big doe-eyes wider than one might imagine possible. “Miss Phillips, what should I do?”
Georgiana chewed her mango thoughtfully, then dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “You should go to Calcutta. But don’t issue an invitation. Instead, make him come to you. Make sure you’re available if he requests an audience, but don’t welcome him too eagerly—after all, he let you slip away.”
Celia nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, of course. Available but not eager.”
“Bollocks,” a voice next to her interrupted. Simon shrugged off Georgiana’s glare. “He’s coming halfway across the world to see you. Go to Calcutta, Celia, and welcome him with open arms.”
“Do you think so?” Celia asked, looking excited.
Georgiana shot Simon another dirty look before she rose and walked over to the girl. “It seems to me, dear, that until you know his intentions it’s best not to throw yourself headlong into something you may well regret.”
Simon stood and joined them. “His intentions are clear,” he stated. “By all means, throw yourself.”
Celia looked back and forth between them uncertainly. “Oh, I don’t know—”
“How can she know his intentions?” Georgiana argued. “Has he ever stated them? No. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for her to act in a measured and thoughtful manner.” She turned back to Celia. “Sound
heads must prevail in this matter, Miss Woodford. You must allow yourself the time to consider—”
“What’s to consider?” Simon interrupted, inserting himself between the two ladies and glaring down at Georgiana. “Obviously he intends to marry her.”
“Obviously? Hardly! If he’d intended marriage, why are we just now hearing about it?” she countered. “Did he propose properly to her? No! A proposal after the fact seems less than sincere.”
“Miss Phillips makes a valid point,” Celia noted sadly.
Simon glowered. “Why would she possibly doubt his sincerity?”
“Should I doubt his sincerity, Miss Phillips?” Celia asked, clearly growing more worried.
Georgiana huffed at Simon. “Of course she doubts his sincerity. As a gentleman, he’s honor bound to offer for her!” she snapped. “I hardly think we can fault her for having the good sense not to marry someone merely because he feels obligated. Or worse, guilty.”
“Guilty?” Simon fumed. “It’s not guilt! No man would suffer such lengths for a woman unless he was entirely devoted to her.”
Celia looked at Georgiana, a ray of hope lighting her eyes. “Perhaps Mr. Ashford is right, Miss Phillips.”
“Perhaps if the man in question had bothered stating his intentions prior to compromising her, she wouldn’t have to doubt his intentions now,” Georgiana drawled.
“You’re right, of course,” Celia noted, looking a bit downcast. “He should have.”
“Perhaps the man in question felt as though he were not deserving of her,” Simon returned. “After all, she’s a reigning beauty and he’s only a second son—no title, no wealth. Perhaps he felt he couldn’t offer her the life she deserved!”
“Actually, Jonathan is a viscount,” Celia said, looking confused. “And I’m told he has a sum of ten thousand annually.”
Georgiana glared at Simon. “Perhaps she wouldn’t have cared! If he felt so strongly about her, why didn’t he pursue her properly? No, instead, he chose to ignore her for two years before kissing her in such a hurly burly manner.”
“Well if she hadn’t been so busy pushing him out the bloody window and then chasing around the world for the next six years, perhaps he might’ve had the chance to declare himself!”
Celia’s eyes were huge. She looked at Jane and Julian, who were watching the exchange with interest. “I don’t think we’re talking about Jonathan, are we?”
“The only reason she pushed him out that bloody window was so that he didn’t destroy his friendship with her brother!” Georgiana seethed.
“She pushed him out the window because she was too damned cowardly to take a chance on him!” Simon spat.
“Cowardly?” Georgiana spat back. “Cowardly? It’s not cowardly to question a man’s motives when he’s not bothered to declare himself!”
“Declare himself? Why does she need a declaration? He’s spent every minute over the last month showing her how he feels!” Simon fumed. “He’s trailed after her day after day like a puppy, trying to keep her happy and out of harm’s way! Why isn’t that enough? Why does she still need the words?”
“Because trailing after her was his job!” Georgiana snapped. “Remember? Her brother charged him with her safety! How is she supposed to know she’s not just another obligation if he doesn’t tell her?”
Simon’s jaw was working furiously. “He followed her into the godforsaken jungle against his better judgment! He...he threw himself into a bloody mudslide for her! How is that not an admission of his feelings?”
“Throwing himself into mudslide is no declaration—just sheer stupidity!” Georgiana argued.
“No,” Simon drawled acidly, “stupidity is consummating a marriage with a woman who flagrantly refuses to believe his intentions are anything but sincere.”
“A tribal ceremony does not count as a real marriage. Especially since he never proposed!”
“He proposed twice, if memory serves. But naturally she’s too suspicious and stubborn to take his proposal seriously!” Simon snarled. “If she’d simply believe his intentions are sincere—”
“Unfortunate he chose once again to compromise her before stating his intentions, isn’t it?” Georgiana shot back. “Perhaps he might learn to keep his trousers on so that she might have a chance to gauge the sincerity of those ‘intentions.’”
“Well she certainly couldn’t get his trousers off fast enough last night,” he responded tartly. “And there was little doubt about his intentions then.”
Georgiana huffed. Then she slapped him across the cheek.
Hard.
The instant she did so, she regretted it. She was quivering in rage and horror, and after a tense moment, Simon slowly turned his face back to her. He was breathing heavily, clearly trying to gather his composure. Surprise and anger were scrawled across his features. And hurt. That was paramount. He’d spoken to her not out of resentment, but out of hurt. She’d hurt him.
That look alone was enough to make Georgiana believe the sincerity of his intentions.
He opened his mouth as though to say something. Instead, however, he simply exhaled and shook his head. His expression was shuttered as he looked down at her, studying her for what felt like an eternity. Georgiana felt oddly empty at his silence.
“Simon,” she said hoarsely, “I—”
“You just keep breaking my heart, love,” he said in clipped tones.
He bowed to the others, who were busy looking anywhere but at them. “Please excuse me, ladies. Thorne. I have an expedition to prepare.”
He turned to leave, then stopped and turned back. “Miss Celia,” he said, “go to Calcutta. Greet your Lord Bonnefield with an open heart, and tell him he’s a fool if he lets you go again.”
Georgiana watched him go, fighting the urge to run after him. Her breath fractured in her chest and for an awful moment she understood that she had very possibly lost everything that mattered to her.
She was about to fling herself headlong after him—hang the consequences—but a hand at her elbow stopped her. Julian Thorne was looking down at her, sympathy in those kind eyes of his.
“Unless you have a salve that can heal the soul, Miss Phillips,” he said gently, “he’s better off alone for a while. It’s been my experience that when a gentleman is pushed to his limit by the woman he loves, there’s little she can do until he clears his head. Right now I suspect Mr. Ashford needs to burn off some temper. I rather pity the jungle vegetation he’ll be clearing on our way to Konark.”
Georgiana swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice wavering.
“Let him go,” Julian said lightly. “When he returns, greet him with open arms and remind him that he’d be an even bigger fool than Bonnefield if he lets you go again.”
“You must think I am the most ill-mannered, boorish lout, Professor Thorne,” Georgiana’s voice wavered. “I’ve made it my habit to create a scene in front of you in the short time we’ve been acquainted.”
Julian shrugged it off. “It’s like that when there’s true emotion between people,” he said simply. “You hide it well, Miss Phillips, but those you care for, you care for deeply. I see no shame in that.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Georgiana replied, ready to burst into tears at this small kindness.
Thorne shrugged. “Do you think perhaps you might call me Julian?” he grinned. “We’ve aired our dirty laundry together, it seems we may as well be friendly.”
“I think I would like that very much. Julian.” She nodded.
“Well,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “if you’ll excuse me, I think my expedition will be leaving. Soon.”
Jane rose and walked with Julian to the doorway. When they stopped, he leaned nearer to her and said something that made her smile so completely, so sweetly, that Georgia
na felt like she was intruding just by watching. She turned away and exhaled sharply to help steady her nerves before joining Celia Woodford, who was still gaping a bit, at the table. “When you’re with Lord Bonnefield,” she asked Celia plaintively, “does it feel like...like there’s the possibility of something more, something deeper than with anyone else? As though you’ve found something you never knew was missing?”
The girl looked surprised. “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s exactly how I feel.”
Georgiana met her gaze directly. “My advice to you then, Miss Woodford, is to do exactly what Mr. Ashford suggested. Go to Calcutta, ask to meet him, and open your heart to him.”
“I couldn’t possibly be so forward,” Celia protested. “I can’t bear to humiliate myself in front of him!”
“Nonsense,” Georgiana said kindly. “You’re no longer bound by the dictates of polite Society, Celia. And while I’m certainly not suggesting you throw yourself at him, I promise there is no shame in telling him that you care for him.”
“But what if Jonathan doesn’t want me?” Celia asked softly.
“Then he’s a fool who was never worthy of you in the first place,” Georgiana said definitively. “But if he doesn’t share your affections, you will bid him goodbye and let yourself cry until you are empty of tears. Then you’ll pick yourself up and start over again. You’re stronger than you know, Celia. And your Uncle Julian—and very likely my cousin—will be there to help you build a new life. Someday, you’ll find someone worthy of you.”
Celia’s lips thinned. “I must admit, Miss Phillips, I’m frightened.”
Georgiana smiled slightly and took her hand. “Of course you are. But you must believe me when I tell you that a bit of humiliation is not the end of the world. It’s a far worse fate to waste your life wondering what might have been. Pride is a lonely bedfellow.”
Celia blushed, but nodded.
An Inconvenient Kiss Page 27