She turned and fled, and Ashdowne didn’t attempt to go after her, for this time the often unintelligible Georgiana had made herself perfectly clear.
Ashdowne went through the motions. He returned to Camden Place, where he changed for the evening, and he escorted his sister-in-law to one of Bath’s rather provincial dances. Anne seemed eager to speak with him, for once, but when he turned his attention toward her, she took one look at him and stammered some nonsense about the weather before hurriedly excusing herself.
All through the interminable hours that followed, Ashdowne thought about leaving, not the dance, but Bath itself. Georgiana had trampled his pride, and the remnants of it urged him to return to Ashdowne Manor, take up the reins of his life and dismiss her from his thoughts forever. But he rarely turned aside a challenge. He had done things that others called miraculous simply by examining a problem from all angles and using his skills and dexterity.
Could he still win Georgiana, despite all that had happened? More importantly, did he want to? All Ashdowne’s instincts screamed that he should count himself fortunate to have escaped marriage to such a dizzy young woman, but his heart thundered with a more vital truth: he loved her. Never before had he been tempted to wed, yet now his mind, his heart, his body, all clamored that he make her his. Now and forever.
Well, that pretty much settled that. The question was would she have him? He had lied to her from the very beginning, used her, played at seducing her and become jealously possessive of her time and attention before falling for her completely, but he knew none of those dastardly deeds weighed as much with Georgiana as one thing: he was a thief.
During an evening spent cutting those who would approach him and dancing attendance on his jittery sister-in-law, Ashdowne had plenty of time to justify his past behavior to himself, but he could find no explanation that would suit Georgiana. He could tell himself that she was nothing but a green girl with a lot of useless morals that would garner her nothing but contempt in London, and yet her innocence and sterling character had won his reluctant admiration.
There was no getting around it. Long after the silent carriage ride home and his curt dismissal of Finn, Ashdowne pondered his past and future, a bottle of port at his side. Whether because of the wine or the depressing bent of his thoughts, he became increasingly morose as the night wore on. For the first time in his life he wanted something he couldn’t have, and all his skill and wit and determination might not obtain it.
Frustration burned inside him like the fires of hell, for everything had always come easily to him. Unlike other younger sons, he had never taken up the sword or the book to earn a living. He had survived on his charm and his wits and called it work, but it had all been a lark, fueled by his arrogance.
His life as The Cat had been more than an adventure, but a way to prove, to himself at least, that he was just as good as his brother. Better even, for he had become successful on his own without a title or the Ashdowne inheritance. Yet, his relatives had never known of his accomplishments, and in the end, he had never really won their respect or affection.
And now that he had the title and the wealth and the heritage, what good did it do him? His existence seemed empty and purposeless and…lonely. Oh, he had friends and acquaintances, but none except Finn really knew him. How could they, when he had lived a lie? Suddenly, standing in the garish room he hated, awash in moonlight, Ashdowne was struck by a desperate yearning for a family, for a wife who knew who he really was and who could rekindle his sense of adventure, his joy in life.
Georgiana.
Little did he suspect, when he arrived in Bath, that a petite young woman he had once dismissed as empty-headed would become the focus of his being. And yet had he put forth more than a minimal effort to win her? Ashdowne groaned out a denial. He had treated her with the same selfishness that marked every facet of his life.
The admission startled him, for Ashdowne had never thought of himself as excessively selfish, but now he had to concede that it had been a hallmark of his existence. Always he had done what he pleased, when he pleased and how he pleased, with little regard for anyone else, and the knowledge didn’t sit well upon his shoulders.
Only someone with unmitigated conceit would set himself up as an arbiter of the fortunes of others, and Ashdowne’s casual dismissal of his victims as too rich and obnoxious to matter seemed the height of heedlessness. He had claimed to possess a sense of honor, yet now he saw himself as practically devoid of it. Yes, Lady Culpepper deserved to have her necklace stolen after what she had done to Anne, but who was he to decide—and to mete out his choice of revenge?
Setting down his glass, Ashdowne suddenly knew what he must do. It was a small thing, really, but a step in the right direction, or at least that’s what Georgiana would say. The thought gave him hope, and he surged to his feet only to hesitate. Unfortunately, he could attempt nothing now, for his wits were too dull after the long hours of drinking and painful introspection.
Ashdowne frowned, impatient, before realizing with a smile that there was something he could do.
Chapter Sixteen
Despite his less than perfect equilibrium, Ashdowne easily obtained entry, his stealth second nature as he stepped through long windows into the bedroom. It was small, and she did not share it with her sisters, a fact he had made it his business to find out before this evening and for which he was infinitely grateful. For a long moment, he simply stood there watching her sleep, bathed in moonlight, her blond curls spread upon her pillow, one pale hand resting beside them.
Being Georgiana, she did not awaken slowly to rub her eyes and yawn. Instead, her lashes lifted, and she looked directly at him with intelligence all the more startling for its package. He saw a flicker of alarm pass across her lovely features before she sat up, pulling a blanket to her chest.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded in a whisper.
“Oh, we depraved criminals have our ways,” Ashdowne said from his position in the shadows. She blinked at him, and he wondered if she was sleepier than she looked. And suddenly the wonder that had filled him at the sight of her turned to something else. Her locks were tousled, her cheeks pink, and he could just imagine the warmth of her skin. He took a step forward.
“Don’t come any closer!” she warned, holding up one hand while clutching the bedding with another. It served as poor covering, for he could see the lacy bodice of her nightgown and his desire became as a living thing, fierce and undeniable.
“I can change,” he whispered, moving to the side of the bed.
“What?” she asked, her expression dazed.
“I have changed, Georgiana, but I can change more.” He sat down beside her, and the delicate waft of her scent was nearly his undoing. While he still could think, he bent over her, trapping her delectable form between his outstretched arms. “And to prove it to you, I’m going to return the necklace,” he whispered.
“Don’t!” she cried. “I mean, yes, do return it. That is a wonderful idea, but don’t come any closer to me because then I can’t think.”
“Good,” Ashdowne answered, the word holding a wealth of meanings. “I want you to stop thinking and simply feel. I want Georgiana, the incurable romantic tonight, not the hardheaded investigator. Give me another chance, Georgiana. Please.” His plea was barely a whisper as he leaned forward, and whatever answer she might have made was lost when he took her mouth with his own.
She tasted drowsy and sweet and heavenly, and Ashdowne deepened the kiss, taking all that she would give him. Needy, desperate, begging for more, he hardly recognized himself, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered when he felt the tentative touch of her tongue, innocent yet eager, and growing bolder as it entwined with his.
Her arms came up to enfold him, and Ashdowne lay down beside her, unwilling to pause even to remove his boots. He was well aware that at any moment she might come to her senses, but in the meantime he would revel in her passion. It rose like a tide, and when she arched upwa
rd to press herself against him, Ashdowne jerked away the blanket that stood between them.
Her nightgown was a frilly white concoction that reflected her mother’s taste, and he could well imagine her in simple silk instead, but the lacy bodice caressed Georgiana’s creamy skin along her abundant curves, and through the thin material, he saw the dark outline of her nipples. Ashdowne felt the blood rush to his head, then downward, in a great, dizzying spiral. He remembered the episode in the baths and gritted his teeth.
Those stolen moments seemed to have occurred aeons ago, in a time of delight and surprise when he hadn’t been in the grips of such desperation. When he hadn’t been in love. The thought acted as a douse of cold water on his careening senses, and Ashdowne struggled to rein in his rampant lust. He loved her, and for once, he wasn’t going to be selfish.
Where he found the strength, Ashdowne would never know, but for a long while he simply looked at her, then he stroked her beautiful body, his hands working over the material of her gown, playing with it, using it to heighten her pleasure until she was breathless and panting. And then, finally, he stripped it from her and began all over again, learning her body as he would a lock whose secrets he must discover slowly and carefully.
But Georgiana was not content to lie prone, and she tugged at his coat until he removed it and his waistcoat and his shirt. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he yanked off his boots, only to find her draped over his back, her bounteous breasts pressed against him, and his head fell backward on a groan. Apparently encouraged by the sound, she rubbed against him, making little purring noises while she kissed the back of his neck and nipped at his shoulders.
His erection straining painfully at his breeches, Ashdowne turned and tossed her onto the bed, climbing after her in a moment’s weakness. And seeing her lying there all pink and tousled, her legs parted to reveal a tantalizing thatch of blond curls, was almost too much for him. He hesitated a moment, drawing on resources he didn’t know existed, before picking up the foot nearest him and licking her toes.
By the time Ashdowne reached the tender skin at the very top of her inner thigh, she was whimpering, and he was smiling when he finally kissed her moist heat, tasting her sweetness, reveling in her essence. Being Georgiana, she didn’t squawk or protest, but opened her mind and her legs to his unique explorations until she was tearing his hair out of his head in her enthusiasm.
When she bucked and cried out her pleasure, Ashdowne gently untangled her fingers from his strained locks and gazed down at the panting woman before him, the very picture of sated bliss. And he knew it would be so easy to finish what he had started, to indulge his own need for release by spilling his seed inside her.
By taking her maidenhead, perhaps even getting her with child, he could bind her to him, and the temptation was so great that Ashdowne shuddered with the force of it. But that kind of behavior would be the careless, heedless, easy way, and his developing scruples told him that way would be wrong. And, in truth, Ashdowne wanted more. He wanted all of her, not just the passion he could rouse in her body, but her clever mind and her romantic heart. He wanted her to love him, and so he drew a deep breath and rose from the bed.
His erection was so painful that he stifled a groan when he bent to pull on his boots. He had been too long in his monkish existence as marquis, buried at the family seat. He had always loved beautiful things, including women, and though he had chosen his lovers with a discerning eye, he could no longer remember their faces. Now only one face came to mind, one soft body taunted him with the memory of pale skin and soft curves. Ashdowne grimaced, his arousal making the task of getting dressed an odd business and he grunted as he bent over Georgiana, kissing her dampened forehead in farewell.
Scruples were a lot more painful than he had ever imagined.
Georgiana stood in the Pump Room, unsure what to believe. After Ashdowne’s appearance in her bedroom last night, she had been ready to forgive him anything, but a restless dawn had brought the gradual return of her wits and now she wondered. Was he really capable of changing, or was he just trying to distract her from his guilt and betrayal? Worse yet, had he been trying to win her over for more nefarious reasons?
Georgiana knew she couldn’t really turn him in to the Bow Street Runner, even though she felt a hollow sense of disappointment that the case she had worked so hard to solve would remained unexplained. All her dreams of glory were gone, but they no longer seemed so important now, after what had happened with Ashdowne. Maybe he was right, she thought dismally, and she was more romantic than pragmatic, after all.
Heaving a mighty sigh, Georgiana thought it hardly fitting that someone who devoted her life to the investigation and uncovering of wrongdoing should fall in love with a criminal, and yet hadn’t she often marveled about her worthy opponent? At last, she had found someone clever enough to be her match, but could he put his past behind him? Could she?
Georgiana was just as confused as she had been after waking from a few hours of restless sleep, and she would rather have remained in her room trying to sort out her situation, but her family had insisted that she join them in a morning visit to the Pump Room. Although tempted to plead a headache, she was wary of even the smallest lie, and so agreed reluctantly.
At the best of times, Georgiana was not enthusiastic about socializing, so today she kept to herself even more than usual. For once, she didn’t have the slightest interest in the conversations going on around her, and as for Ashdowne…she wasn’t even sure she wanted to see him.
Lost in the dismals, Georgiana didn’t notice the approach of an elegantly dressed woman until she heard the soft clearing of a feminine throat. She turned only to blink at the sight of the marchioness of Ashdowne. “My lady!” she said in surprise.
“Please call me Anne,” Ashdowne’s sister-in-law said as she reached for Georgiana’s hand. “I have heard so much about you that I feel we are old friends.”
Georgiana blinked again. “You’ve heard about me?” she asked, amazed.
Anne’s delicate mouth curved into a beautiful smile. “Oh, yes, of course! According to Johnathon you are the most intelligent and clever and beautiful and brave of women!”
Georgiana gaped. She could imagine Ashdowne muttering imprecations about her, but extolling her virtues? And to this paragon of femininity?
Anne sighed, and continued, “I must admit to being a bit envious at first, for I fear that I am sorely lacking in all those attributes. But just hearing about you has made me vow to be more courageous.”
Georgiana felt her mouth drop open. The woman responsible for her fierce bout of jealousy was striving to be more like her?
“Yes, I know it is presumptuous of me,” Anne said, obviously misinterpreting her reaction, “but I feel as if you have given me strength.” She leaned close. “You see I came to Bath on a mission. However, Johnathon so intimidates me that I have failed in it! Oh, I have tried often to tell him my news, but every time I think I shall succeed, my heart quails,” she said, a hand to her throat.
The gesture made Georgiana see how Ashdowne might react to his sister-in-law, for he was too arrogant and blunt for such theatrics. Yet, Anne was so sweet that Georgiana reined in her own impatience. “I’m sure Ashdowne would never scold you,” she said.
“Oh, he doesn’t scold exactly, but he gets that look upon his face as if he can hardly bear the sight of me,” Anne confided.
“No! I’m sure that isn’t true,” Georgiana protested.
“Oh, you are too kind, as I knew you would be. May I be so bold as to confide in you?” At Georgiana’s nod, Anne leaned close once more. “You see, I have come to know a gentleman,” she said, a gentle blush tinting her cheeks as she cast her eyes downward. “I met him during my ill-fated visit to London, the only good to come of that dreadful trip, I assure you. But he is wonderful, and he has asked me to become his wife!”
Georgiana blinked. Her jealousy now seemed doubly foolish, for not only were Anne and Ashdowne totally incompati
ble, but Anne’s feelings were engaged elsewhere. What a goose she had been! Smiling with genuine pleasure, she squeezed Anne’s gloved hand. “This is wonderful news!”
“Yes,” Anne agreed, blushing again. “However, since Johnathon is now the head of the family, I feel that I must gain his permission, and I fear that he will not approve as the gentleman in question is not of a similar rank.”
Georgiana felt a momentary qualm. Had Anne fallen for someone unsuitable, just as she had done?
“Oh, he is of genteel birth, and he is devoted to me,” Anne said, obviously noticing her concern, “but my dear William, God rest his soul, would never have approved, for Mr. Dawson is in trade, you see.”
A tradesman? Georgiana wondered.
“As one of the many younger sons of Viscount Salsbury, he had no title and no expectations, and so he went into speculation and made a fortune in the production of agricultural implements. Not quite the thing, the ton would say, but he is the most kind and gentle of men and I…I…” Her words trailed off as she flushed once more.
Glancing up to see Ashdowne approaching, Georgiana felt her own blush rising, for he had said not a word to her since doing all those extraordinary things to her in her bed. And she was fairly sure that he had left her room unsatisfied, another question that had kept her tossing and turning, and one which she could hardly put to him now.
All her mixed emotions concerning this man who had so lied to her rushed to the fore, unresolved, but for Anne’s sake, she knew she must put her own feelings aside for the moment. With grim determination, she stepped forward to intercept him, tugging on his sleeve to pull him close. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she said, smiling up at him. “Anne is getting married!”
Ashdowne, who looked startled enough by Georgiana’s greeting, now swung his rather intimidating gaze toward his sister-in-law, who immediately looked down at her toes, as if afraid to speak.
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