“I promise,” she said with a grimace.
“Good girl,” he said.
Georgiana was going to deny the endearment, but he was looming over her again, tall and elegant and handsome, a figure of shadow and yet so much more. She felt a wash of dizziness, along with a stirring of longing, which she firmly quelled.
“But you must agree not to be so…distracting,” she said, stepping back to escape his potent charm. “If we are going to work together as you demand, then we must keep our minds firmly on the investigation and avoid un-seemly behavior…such as that which occurred this afternoon at the vicar’s.”
Georgiana’s face flamed, and she was glad for the darkness, but to her dismay, Ashdowne actually chuckled. He was not taking her seriously! “Nothing at all can be accomplished by such a…flirtation,” she repeated more firmly. “Logically, one must—”
Ashdowne cut her off by moving in front of her. “You are a complete fraud, Georgiana Bellewether,” he said, the gentle timbre of his voice taking the sting from his words.
“Whatever do you mean?” Georgiana asked, tempted to take umbrage but unable to rouse her indignation. Ashdowne was wearing an expression she had never seen before, an odd mixture of tenderness and something else….
“No matter how much you pretend otherwise, you lead with your heart, not your head,” Ashdowne said softly. While Georgiana tried to form a protest, he took her face in his hands and rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs, effectively stealing her wits.
“Just because you are intelligent and clever and resourceful, you think that makes you pragmatic, when, in fact, you are the most romantic woman I’ve ever met,” he said, tilting her chin upward.
“That is not true at all,” Georgiana replied in a breathless whisper, but it died away as his mouth at last came down on hers. He brushed against her lips, lightly nipping as if he were but tasting and not quenching his thirst. Then, just when Georgiana would have leaned into his hard body, he drew back, leaving her with a vague dissatisfaction.
Giving her a gentle smile that she would have never expected from him, Ashdowne moved toward the door, where her mother’s voice drifted out to them. “An incurable romantic,” he said.
For once, Georgiana, left speechless by a nearly overpowering sense of longing, was not about to argue.
Ashdowne didn’t trust her in the slightest.
According to his calculations, he had just enough time to return to Camden Place, but little beyond that. No matter what Georgiana might promise him when she was dazed with passion, eventually she would change back into a creature of logic. And then, her vow to him might be conveniently forgotten in the excitement of pursuit, or whatever she cared to call her wild-goose chases.
In the meantime, she would have to answer some questions from her family, no doubt, concerning her sudden association with a marquis. If Ashdowne had judged them correctly, the mother would issue a few judicious warnings, while the father, an optimistic but not as sensible a sort, would be less wary of a nobleman’s attentions to his daughter.
Hopefully, the interrogation and the ensuing good-nights would keep Georgiana busy, for a while at least. Unfortunately, Ashdowne suspected that keeping the indefatigable Miss Bellewether occupied could be a full-time task, requiring a man with steady nerves, quite a bit of daring and a variety of talents. He realized, with a chagrin, that he was uniquely qualified for the position. Unfortunately, the realization was not nearly as alarming as it once would have been.
At first Ashdowne had disdained Georgiana’s exuberance and irrational behavior, but now he was finding himself strangely enchanted. What other woman had so many facets? Where else could both reason and imagination thrive in one delectable package, along with a delightful ability to laugh at herself?
Ashdowne had long disciplined himself to anticipate all possibilities, but Georgiana left him baffled. No matter how well he thought he knew her unusual mind, she continued to surprise him. With a certain fondness, he remembered her expression when he had picked the lock on the vicar’s door. Instead of appearing shocked, Georgiana had been impressed, rewarding him with a look of admiration that had oddly affected him, for where, outside of London’s East End, would he find another female who would appreciate such a skill?
Ashdowne had never met a woman who downplayed her beauty, yet Georgiana treated hers as if it were naught but a nuisance. Of course, those gowns her mother chose for her were hideous, as well as practically indecent. He would choose for her more modest attire, simple fabrics devoid of ruffles and bows that let her innate loveliness shine, without drawing too much interest from other men.
But no matter what her costume, Georgiana would remain true to herself. Whether in sackcloth or silk, she would ignore her attributes in favor of her more cerebral interests and defy convention with her foibles. Oftentimes she made such dreadful faces that Ashdowne didn’t know whether to laugh or to kiss her. Indeed, he rarely knew just what to do with the increasingly alluring Georgiana.
Well, he had a good idea of what he would like to do with the voluptuous creature, Ashdowne thought, his body growing taut. And it didn’t involve clothes of any kind. For one long, delicious moment, he imagined her naked, that glorious form his for the taking, before he ruthlessly banished the vision. No matter how tempting she might be, Georgiana Bellewether was a gently bred virgin and not for him.
Ashdowne recalled how he had already overstepped his bounds with the young lady. He certainly hadn’t intended to touch her today, but he had never laughed so freely as when he had watched her antics in the vicar’s bedroom. And his delight had led to an expression of appreciation that went far beyond his initial aim. But he had never expected such an enthusiastic return of his ardor, either.
Truly, everything about Georgiana Bellewether was an intriguing discovery, especially the innocent passion that he had so swiftly tapped. Ashdowne paused at the rear entrance to the Camden Place house, taking a moment to savor her words. Too distracting, was he? He had no intention of letting the luscious blonde know that the feeling was increasingly mutual.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford such a preoccupation, especially now, and the knowledge sobered him as he slipped into the house, calling for Finn while he headed for the study. A lamp had been left burning, illuminating a massive desk and exotic furniture, but Ashdowne rejected the hard chairs to lean against the mantelpiece. He was too restless to sit, and he pushed away from the gilded wood when Finn entered, closing the door behind him.
“So, how’d you fair with the housebreaking?” the Irishman asked with a grin.
Ashdowne lifted a brow, as if the very question offended him. “Child’s play,” he said, much to Finn’s amusement. He tugged at his elaborately tied neck cloth, pulling the spotless material from around his neck in one elegant motion.
“And the vicar? Has he been stealing hair tonic, too?”
Ashdowne gave his servant a dry smile. “I think the only thing the good vicar is guilty of is a rather perverse taste in sexual playthings.”
“Give over, milord!” Finn said with a snort. “And what did the little miss think of that?”
Ashdowne grimaced, knowing he couldn’t hide a lot from Finn yet unwilling to admit too much—even to himself. He had no intention of letting the Irishman in on what he had shared with Georgiana in the vicar’s bedroom. “She’s far too innocent to understand, thankfully,” he said, ignoring the guilt that nagged him for sampling some of that innocence.
“And a bit too dizzy besides,” Finn said with a grunt, as he reached up to divest Ashdowne of his coat.
Upon hearing the barb, Ashdowne realized that some part of him rebelled against giving Georgiana so unflattering a label. “She is not quite as stupid as she appears,” he muttered. “After all, she did catch Whalsey and Cheever in some sort of robbery, if not the correct one.” Yes, behind that often foolish facade was a quick mind. All too quick, Ashdowne mused. Luckily it worked hand in hand with a fanciful imagination.
Perhaps that was the key to whatever allure she possessed. Whether real or imagined, Georgiana was always busy with something. Even a mundane rout was made interesting by her silly attempts at spying, of inventing intrigues where there were none, while uncovering one or two actual plots besides.
And all the calamities that occurred during the process…well, as long as one wasn’t injured by them, Ashdowne had to admit they were usually amusing. More entertaining than a night at the theater, her foibles drew one in as though one were participating in a play. Ashdowne grinned. And no matter what happened, the young lady never lost her aplomb. Whether crashing into the orchestra or falsely accusing Whalsey, Georgiana thoroughly enjoyed herself.
“Maybe she’s too smart for her own good,” Finn scoffed.
“Perhaps,” Ashdowne mused, his thoughts drawn back to his errand. Her family, kind though they might be, could not be trusted to keep Georgiana safe. They had no understanding of her at all, and no idea what situations she was capable of getting herself into, but he did, and that was why he had called for Finn.
“I’ve a job for you, if you will,” Ashdowne said, glancing at his majordomo.
Finn folded the coat over an arm and nodded his head curtly. “You know it. Shall I see what the vicar’s up to, if you’ll pardon the pun?” he asked with a grin.
Ashdowne smiled but shook his head. “No, not the vicar. He’s no threat. It’s Miss Bellewether I want you to watch. She’s liable to get into mischief the moment I turn my back.”
“You think she might actually be on to something?” Finn asked, giving his employer a sharp look. Ashdowne could only shake his head again, feeling awkward as he contemplated his odd surge of protectiveness toward Georgiana. He had never considered himself honorable, but he could not stand by and let her boldly charge into trouble.
In the ensuing silence, Finn’s mouth twisted slyly, and he regarded his employer with a far too perceptive gaze. “Developed a bit of a yen for the gel, have you?”
Ashdowne lifted a dark brow. His feelings for Georgiana could hardly be described in such terms, but he had no intention of examining them too closely, let alone expounding upon them to his manservant. He schooled his features to reveal nothing except a bland directness as he fixed his friend with a sober stare.
“Just watch her, Finn. I don’t trust anyone else to do so.”
Finn nodded. “All right, if you’ll admit that you find her interesting,” he demanded, his eyes twinkling.
Ashdowne gave a harsh laugh. “Oh, she’s interesting, all right.” Georgiana was so many things, it was difficult to put into words all her intriguing facets, but he sensed that Finn would not drop the subject without further explanation. Pausing to consider her for a moment, Ashdowne smiled wryly. “How long has it been since you’ve met a female who has fun?” he asked.
Grinning, the servant mentioned a certain lady of the ton who was notorious for her wild and wicked affairs.
Ashdowne chuckled. “No, not that kind of fun. I mean innocent joie de vivre. No matter what happens, Georgiana’s having a good time, an adventure of her own making. It may be all in her mind, but she takes such pleasure in it that those around her can’t help being entertained, as well.”
“An adventure, you say?” Finn asked. “Seems to me I used to know a man who had a few himself.”
Ashdowne disliked the reminder. “That was a long time ago, Finn,” he said.
“Not so long!” the servant scoffed.
“It was another life, Finn.”
“Ha! A man makes his own life,” Finn muttered, turning toward the door. Ashdowne knew he would get no sympathy from the Irishman, nor did he want any. Although he counted Finn as his closest friend, the street thief turned servant could not begin to understand the responsibilities of a marquis, or how they weighed him down.
“Well, if the dizzy chit can keep you from turning into your brother, then I’m all for her,” Finn said, over his shoulder.
Ashdowne quelled the sharp bite of annoyance before he spoke. “I am not my brother,” he said, as coolly as possible.
“Glad to hear it, milord,” Finn said. Then he slipped soundlessly from the room, leaving Ashdowne to glare at the closed door.
He wasn’t turning into his brother, Ashdowne assured himself, for his brother had never really laughed, not as he had done today. The memory drew a smile from him, along with a rather alarming desire to see Miss Georgiana Bellewether again.
Here. Now. And always.
Chapter Eight
Ashdowne had never been an early riser. Like so many of his peers, he kept late hours and slept till noon. Although the assumption of his brother’s duties had altered his habits somewhat, he could not remember the last time he had been up at dawn. Yet, here he was, startling the maids as he called for a quick breakfast, for he suspected that Georgiana would not lie abed for long.
Pushing aside the image of rumpled sheets and a warm, lush body that followed the thought, Ashdowne hurried through a cup of coffee and some toast. He told himself that he needed to spell Finn, who had been up all night without warning, yet he couldn’t deny a certain anticipation that rose within him. It was the kind of simmering expectation that he had once known well but that had been sadly lacking in his life of late.
What would she do next?
The question drove his steps quickly into the quiet neighborhood where Georgiana’s family had taken up residence. There, hidden in the shadows of a tall shrub, Ashdowne was relieved to find Finn alert and out of sight, though he was not as pleased by the manservant’s knowing grin.
“You do have it bad, don’t you, milord?” Finn chortled. “It’s been years since you’ve been up and about at this hour. Why, the last time, I think it was when that French filly turned out to have a jealous lover and—”
Cutting him off with a silent glare, Ashdowne tilted his head toward where the Bellewether household was stirring. “No trouble?”
“Not a whit, milord,” Finn answered, still grinning. “The gel’s been quiet as a mouse.”
“Never left the house?”
“No. Good as gold, she was,” Finn said.
Ashdowne felt a moment’s relief, as well as a small measure of pride. Georgiana had kept her promise to him after all. Perhaps her word held true, even when her will wasn’t softened by the desire that flowed so easily between them. His own prevarications caused him a twinge of guilt, which Ashdowne promptly dismissed.
“What now?” Finn asked.
“You go back to Camden Place and get some rest,” Ashdowne said. “I’ll take it from here.”
“I bet you will, milord,” Finn said with a wink. “I have full confidence in your ability to handle one lone female, even Miss Bellewether.”
“Thank you,” Ashdowne said dryly, but as he watched the Irishman swagger off, he wondered if his friend’s faith was a bit misplaced. Could anyone really keep up with Georgiana? Ashdowne smiled slightly at the realization that he was looking forward to discovering the answer. With a skill long honed, he slipped silently into a position beneath a leafy oak not far from the house.
He did not have long to wait.
Ashdowne suspected that the rest of her family had yet to come down to breakfast when Georgiana peeked out the door of the kitchen, looking for all the world as if she expected someone to be watching for her. Of course, someone was, Ashdowne thought, grinning, and he stepped from his place to approach her. Although she glanced about her carefully, she was no match for his stealth, and so was unaware of his presence until he stopped behind her.
“Looking for me, Georgiana?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder. She gasped and whirled around, but Ashdowne was prepared and caught her deadly reticule in one hand.
“Ashdowne! Oh, you frightened me! Quit sneaking up on me like that!” she scolded as she tugged her offending baggage from his grasp. She wore a delightfully disgruntled expression that made him want to kiss her, the sensation at once both alarming and pleasurable. Unable to r
esist the urge to touch her, Ashdowne tapped the tip of her nose and grinned at her perplexed look.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. Her thick lashes drifted low over her soft blue eyes, her lips parting invitingly, and Ashdowne knew a desire to do more than touch her. He drew in a fortifying breath and stepped back.
“Waiting for you, of course,” he said. “Although I knew that you would not go off without me after giving me your solemn promise.”
The blush that suffused her face at his words made Ashdowne bite his cheek to hold in his laughter. Since he often found her unexpected behavior frustrating, her transparency today was even more delightful. But he did not take her broken vow lightly, and he had better let her know it now, before…before what, he was not quite sure, and it made him frown.
“I was, uh, just coming to get you,” she said, her eyes downcast.
She was not a very good liar, he thought. Certainly she was not as adept at it as himself, Ashdowne thought, feeling again the twinge of guilt that had plagued him lately. When he was in the company of the luscious Miss Bellewether, it was all too easy to forget the differences that lay between them, but they were there, vast and sobering.
“Don’t come to my home alone, Georgiana,” he said, more gruffly than he intended. “And don’t make promises you won’t keep.”
“I was going to keep my promise!” she protested, blue eyes so wide and earnest that he found himself softening once more. If he didn’t watch out, Georgiana would have him wrapped around her tiny fingers in no time. “I just wanted to get a head start, that’s all, for I hardly knew when a gentleman of your rank would see fit to begin the day.”
Her last words were muttered with a disdainful expression that made them rather insulting, but Ashdowne could hardly fault her for his habits. He chuckled, though he felt himself sinking deeper into her thrall, his good sense protesting loudly all the while.
“I told you I would be at your disposal,” Ashdowne said, without elaborating upon the far-reaching truth of that statement. He watched the slow flush tinge her pale skin again, and an answering heat swept through him as he imagined her cheeks pink with something other than embarrassment, with the warmth of his attentions.
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