“Ashdowne, I—”
“Georgie! There you are!” Georgiana was dismayed at the sound of her father’s hail. Not only was she interrupted at a most unfortunate moment, but now she would be forced to introduce Ashdowne when she wanted nothing further to do with him.
“The girls said that you were out driving with…” Her father’s words trailed off as he stopped to stare at the marquis. “Ah, but who is that with you, surely not Lord Ashdowne?” he asked in a voice that told her he was well aware of the identity of her companion and inordinately pleased with the knowledge.
Trying not to grimace, Georgiana turned toward her sire, who was grinning happily. “My lord, may I present my father, Squire Bellewether.”
As usual, her father barely gave Ashdowne a chance to nod his head before launching into gregarious speech. “My lord! Why, this is a pleasure! My little Georgie out and about with one of the most famous visitors to Bath!” He glanced approvingly at his daughter, as if forming an acquaintance with a marquis was some kind of accomplishment, and Georgiana stiffened.
Despite her heightened awareness of the man beside her, she was not one of those giddy females who spent their time chasing after a husband. Why, she didn’t even want the marquis as an assistant anymore! “Yes, but he was just leaving,” Georgiana said, ignoring the slight lift of one of Ashdowne’s dark brows.
“Oh, no! You can’t leave now, my lord,” her father boomed. “Not when you haven’t met the family! Come, come,” he said, gesturing toward the house. “You simply must see Mrs. Bellewether, and I’m sure she won’t let you go until you have taken supper with us.”
Georgiana stared at her father in alarm. Even before she had decided to discharge her assistant, she would never have put him through the rigors of a meal with her flighty family. And now that she was prepared to end their relationship, Georgiana wanted as little contact with the man as possible. Inviting him inside hardly seemed the way to withdraw from his company.
“Oh, I’m sure that his lordship has other engagements this evening,” Georgiana said, giving Ashdowne a polite excuse to refuse the invitation. Of course, it never occurred to her that the man who had once looked down his nose at her would actually want to stay for supper, so when she heard his low rumble of denial, Georgiana glanced at him in surprise.
“Actually, I have nothing pressing planned for tonight,” he said, his lips curling upward in a devilish manner that led her to suspect he was deliberately being obtuse. But why? Perhaps he thought she wanted to continue their discussion of the case, Georgiana decided. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she made sure her father wasn’t watching and then shook her head in what she hoped was a subtle yet forceful manner.
The movement only caused Ashdowne’s brow to lift higher and his mouth to curve into a smile. “In fact, Squire, I would be delighted to accept your kind invitation,” he said. Although he inclined his head toward her father, Ashdowne kept his gaze upon her, as if daring her to deny him.
Outraged, Georgiana glared at him, but she could not make her objections known more loudly, for her father was already herding them toward the house, while proclaiming his gratification in a loud voice. Ashdowne, too, appeared inordinately pleased, and Georgiana scowled at his good mood, for it surely would not last once he was introduced to the rest of her family.
Despite her misgivings, the situation could work to her advantage, Georgiana told herself, for she might well be spared what would surely be a difficult parting from her assistant. She might not have to dismiss Ashdowne at all, she mused.
One meal with the Bellewethers ought to accomplish that feat far more easily than she ever could.
Chapter Seven
As if to confirm Georgiana’s suspicions, she and Ashdowne had barely followed her father into the house when they were greeted by the sound of shouting. Ahead in the front parlor, Araminta and Eustacia were plainly in view, engaged in a loud argument.
“It’s my ribbon!” Araminta screeched, tugging fiercely on a pale pink confection she held between her fingers.
Unfortunately, Eustacia kept a firm grip on the other end, so that the two girls resembled nothing so much as dogs fighting over a bone. “It is not! Mother gave it to me!”
“She did not!” Araminta replied. She punctuated her words with an especially violent yank, sending Eustacia sprawling upon the floor in a very unladylike pose.
“Girls! Girls!” her father scolded, while Georgiana turned to Ashdowne with a look that dared him to complain. But instead of the horror she expected to see upon his face, the marquis wore an expression of faint amusement as he leaned close to whisper to her.
“I see you’re not the only hoyden in the family,” he said, for her ears only.
Georgiana blinked at him, outraged, as he straightened, and gave her a guileless smile that further annoyed her. She a hoyden? Certainly not! She was not at all like either of her sisters. Georgiana formed a blistering retort, but had no chance to launch it at his smug profile, for Araminta and Eustacia had finally caught sight of him. They hurried forward, fans and handkerchiefs at the ready, while the disputed ribbon lay forgotten on the floor.
To Georgiana’s dismay, they immediately began their incessant giggling. “My lord!” they gushed, surrounding Ashdowne and flirting with him in the silliest fashion. It was positively sickening, and Georgiana had to bite her tongue to stay the rebuke that swiftly formed. Her father was no help at all, booming out introductions without a thought for the misbehavior of his youngest daughters.
When Araminta nudged aside her sister to take a place next to the marquis, Georgiana had to fight an alarming urge to jerk one of her sibling’s fat curls or knock her to the floor. Luckily she recognized the sensation as the same strange possessiveness in regard to Ashdowne that had come over her earlier, and so she curbed her violence. Such feelings were only natural, she reasoned, since he was her assistant.
But no longer. With displeasure, Georgiana let Araminta usurp her position, for she could not, in all good conscience, cling to it. Ignoring the pang that kept nagging her at the thought of their parting, she stepped away, only to be halted by Ashdowne’s gentle yet firm touch at her elbow.
How he had done it she had no idea, but he had out-maneuvered her sisters to regain his stance beside her in a rather proprietary fashion. Although Georgiana told herself that he was simply taking his duties as assistant seriously, she could not help the warm swell of happiness that rose within her at his actions.
Despite the marquis’s earlier acquiescence, Georgiana never really thought he would stay for supper, but when the time came, he very handsomely agreed. And as the evening progressed, he continued to be both gracious and agreeable, two traits that Georgiana would not usually have assigned to him.
He managed to juggle her sisters’ avid attention and her father’s jovial conversation, while somehow easing her mother’s subtle reservations about a nobleman arriving on her doorstep. Luckily Bertrand did not appear, or her unconventional visit to Ashdowne’s house might have come to light, thereby upsetting the congenial atmosphere. But Bertrand remained out, presumably dining with friends, and Ashdowne worked his charms effortlessly upon the rest of the family.
It was both admirable and irritating, for Georgiana did not need another reason to like the marquis, especially when he already was so distracting. She had not wanted to dine with him in the first place, and she found his continued presence a deterrent to her concentration. She really needed to consider the case, but she could hardly do so when he was seated next to her, his tall form exuding a warmth that affected her all too easily.
And why was he being so nice when he normally wouldn’t give her family a second glance? Georgiana had thought that a few hours spent in their company would drive him from her home, but Ashdowne appeared perfectly at ease even among the most trying members of the household. Being of a suspicious nature, Georgiana immediately began to wonder about his motives. If he thought his duties as her assistant required him
to handle her relatives, he was mistaken, for the man had no duties at all. He just didn’t know it yet, she thought, more determined than ever to sever their relationship.
However, no matter how hard Georgiana tried to engage him in private conversation in order to do just that, she found her efforts thwarted by the rest of the assemblage. She became increasingly frustrated as the evening wore on, especially after they were forced to listen to her sisters sing and play. Although the girls were passable musicians, Georgiana was in no mood to take pleasure in their performance.
“And what of you, Georgiana?” Ashdowne said, leaning close. “Will you not join in?”
Georgiana made a sound of disgust. “Not unless you wish to suffer a screeching that might well unsettle your supper.”
His rich laughter drew immediate attention—a frown from her mother, a grin from her father and two pouts from her sisters. Of course, any chance of important dialogue between the two of them was lost, and Georgiana blew out a breath of exasperation. Impatiently she began tapping her toe upon the floor until the edge of Ashdowne’s booted foot nudged her into silence. Her ensuring glare only drew another burst of laughter from the impossible man.
How could he sit there calmly pretending to enjoy the mediocre musical abilities of her sisters when she was fairly squirming to get away? Georgiana fumed. She never knew what sort of behavior to expect from the man. At first she had thought him a haughty boor, but he had soon revealed himself to be her intellectual equal. Yet when she came to accept his contribution to her case, purely on a cerebral level, of course, he suddenly turned humorous or daring or charming or…sensual.
His mercurial nature, while annoying, also seemed to stimulate some heretofore untapped part of her that craved such stimulation. Perhaps it was because her life was rather ordinary, her family and acquaintances utterly predictable, that she found Ashdowne so appealing.
But no longer, Georgiana told herself, as she envisioned their dissociation with a growing sense of purpose. Once rid of the erratic marquis, she would return to her stable existence of logic and reasoning, her only stimulation the mental kind. And if the rest of her female form shuddered in disappointment, Georgiana had no intention of indulging it.
She was drawn from her thoughts by Ashdowne, who stood and clapped politely. Apparently, another interminable entertainment was over.
“Thank you for the music,” he said, thereby putting an end to it, much to Georgiana’s relief. “And now, Miss Bellewether, I believe you promised to show me the garden.”
For a moment, Georgiana only stared at him blankly. Then, realizing that he was, at last, responding to her efforts at private speech, she rose hurriedly. “Oh, yes,” she said, seizing upon the suggestion.
“The garden?” Her mother’s tone evinced dismay, but her father paid no heed and boomed out his approval.
“You go on and show his lordship, but don’t be too long now,” he said, giving them a wink that made Georgiana cringe in embarrassment. Surely the squire did not think they sought to be alone for…for the purpose of flirtation? Georgiana’s cheeks flamed, but Ashdowne remained impassive, gesturing for her to join him with his usual grace. They headed toward the tall doors as the protests of her sisters rose and faded behind them.
The garden was small, as were most in Bath, and sunk in shadow. It had rained during supper, leaving a mist that Georgiana found irritating. She peered through it with a gloomy sense of frustration, for the vicar might be doing anything on a night like this. Was he even now getting rid of the evidence?
Then Ashdowne moved near her, and all thoughts of the case fled, along with most of her wits. The mist that had seemed so stultifying now swirled about her in a rather romantic fashion, enclosing the two of them in a world all their own. Georgiana registered the thought and then shuddered at the absurd whimsy.
Obviously she was not herself. As if to prove her suspicions, heat surrounded her, and the scent of Ashdowne filled her senses, doing strange things to errant parts of her anatomy. She stepped back, blindly seeking an anchor where there was none. Knowing that she must speak now before her wits deserted her entirely, Georgiana cleared her throat, her attention firmly focused on Ashdowne’s boots.
“My lord—”
“Really, Georgiana, I don’t see the need for such formalities between us,” he replied in a tone that made her stomach dip and her body ripen like fresh fruit. She closed her eyes on a memory of his hands upon her, steeling herself against the slow sweep of lethargy that came with it.
“Ashdowne,” she amended. Lifting her lids once more, Georgiana blurted out her message before it was too late. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to dismiss you. I don’t want your help any longer.”
The silence that met her announcement was deafening, and Georgiana dared a glance at her former assistant’s face. Rarely did Ashdowne reveal himself, so it was with some surprise that she watched raw astonishment grace the elegant marquis’s handsome features. While Georgiana realized she had never seen him so unguarded, the always eloquent nobleman actually started sputtering, as if struck speechless by her declaration.
Georgiana might have been amused if she had not felt so guilty for causing his distress. “I’m sorry, Ashdowne, but you’re just too much of a distraction to me,” she explained. “I cannot concentrate on the case.”
At her words, he stopped sputtering and stared at her for a long moment. Then he threw back his head and burst into laughter, making Georgiana wonder if insanity ran in his family, for the man seemed too often amused. Perhaps, like her sisters, he found humor where she saw none. Georgiana frowned as Ashdowne recovered himself.
“I beg your pardon, but you’re just so deuced…unpredictable,” he finally said.
It hardly seemed a compliment, so Georgiana tossed her curls in pique. Hadn’t she just been thinking that of him? “I could say the same of you!” she said.
“Really?” he asked, his grin warming her insides so that she could not hold on to her annoyance. “How delightful,” he murmured, and Georgiana again felt the familiar sensation of surrender as he stepped toward her.
“No!” she said, holding up a hand to fend him off. “This is exactly what I mean. I haven’t been able to think at all during supper. You are simply too unnerving.”
This time Ashdowne’s smile was so slow and provocative that Georgiana thought her knees might give way. “Unnerving, am I?” he said, taking another step forward. Georgiana moved away, only to come up against the wall of the house at her back.
“I like being unnerving,” he said, one hand reaching out to rest against the building, thereby trapping her. His other hand brushed against her hair, and he stared, his attention caught, as if he had never seen it before. Touching a fat curl, he rubbed it between his fingers, as though fascinated by the texture, and Georgiana had to admit to a certain fascination herself. She made a low sound, and Ashdowne slowly turned his face back to hers.
“But I’ll try to be less unnerving, so that you can concentrate on the case,” he murmured, his expression sincere if unrepentant. “What do you plan to do next?”
Wrenching her thoughts back to her neglected investigation, Georgiana realized that she had few choices, so she blurted out the first idea that came to mind. “I suppose I’ll just have to follow the vicar and see if he reveals himself.”
“But I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Ashdowne whispered, so close that Georgiana could feel the gentle caress of his breath.
“W-what do you mean?” she stammered. Despite the warmth that weighted her limbs, she felt a spark of outrage, for the man had no right to dictate to her.
“I’m your keeper, remember?”
Georgiana could only nod stupidly, her momentary rebellion melting away as his nearness swamped her senses.
“I’ll have to come along to keep you out of trouble, so you will forget this wild notion to dismiss me, won’t you?” Ashdowne asked. Georgiana fully intended to shake her head in objection, but instead she fo
und herself nodding in yet another example of the defection of her body from her brain.
“Thank you,” Ashdowne purred, and she stared at his lips, transfixed by their subtle curves and the lovely little indentation above them. “Promise me that you won’t do anything foolish tonight, and I shall be at your disposal tomorrow,” he added.
At her disposal? The very thought made Georgiana giddy. She wanted to taste those marvelous lips, to feel him kiss her in that deep, lush way of his, and she held her breath, awaiting his touch. But just when she expected him to put his mouth to hers, he stepped back, confounding her once more.
“I don’t want you leaving your house tonight. It’s not a fit night for anyone to be about, and your investigation will wait until tomorrow.”
“Investigation,” Georgiana repeated numbly. Oh, yes, the case! She pushed herself from the wall and ducked away from Ashdowne, taking in a deep draught of air to dispel his allure. “I fear that it is getting away from us. We must act, and soon,” she said with as much force as she could muster. Her mind clearer, she began walking through the grass, heedless of the soaking her hem would receive. “Who knows what the vicar is doing. Do you think he’s gotten rid of the necklace already?”
“No,” Ashdowne answered.
“Good. Then we still have a chance to recover it!” Georgiana said. “We simply must catch him at something suspicious! Perhaps he has not even hidden the jewels at his lodgings, but somewhere else. That is why we must keep an eye on him.”
“So we shall,” Ashdowne said. “But I want you to promise me that you will not try to follow him—or anyone—alone.”
Flustered, Georgiana turned to argue, but the marquis wore a most implacable expression that stopped her short. “Oh, very well,” she muttered.
“Promise?” he asked, moving nearer.
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