Surrender

by CJ Archer

  Christ. He shouldn't have taken his eyes off her for a second. Not after the last time. He was a bloody fool. He'd allowed Georgiana's presence to distract him yet again.

  He reached the trees, their slender, weeping branches sweeping the ground, obscuring anyone who might pass through the veil into the dimly lit world beyond. His horse's hooves thudded dully on the thick mat of fallen leaves and the dense shade cooled his skin. A flash of pink in the depths caught his attention, followed by something darker moving quickly. Philly wore a pink riding habit.

  "Phillippa!" he called into the shadows. "Is that you?"

  The scrunch of leaves and the crack of twigs heralded the emergence of her horse from the shadows. "Oh hello, Alex," she said, straightening her bonnet. "I got a little lost."

  He snatched her horse's bridle, startling the creature and Philly. "If you want me to believe such lies," he ground out, "then you need to look at me when you speak."

  She had the decency to blush and not attempt to make up another excuse. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "It won't happen again."

  "At least we agree on that. You'll not go riding anymore while you are in London. Is that clear?"

  "But Alex—."

  "Is. That. Clear?"

  The ears of both horses twitched back and forth. Phillippa nodded.

  "Who did you meet in here?"

  "No one." She bit her lip.

  "Don't lie, it'll only make it worse for you."

  "Please, Alex, don't tell Aunt Harry or Staunton. They'll be so angry."

  "I'm angry! Philly, do you realize what you're doing? Apart from the dangers of wandering off alone, there is your reputation to consider." He should take her home and lock her in her room. It's what Staunton would do.

  He wasn't Staunton.

  Philly started crying. He heaved a sigh. "Go and find Miss Appleby. She's waiting for you out there."

  "Where are you going?"

  He didn't answer but urged his horse further into the trees. He heard Philly sniff followed by the sound of retreating hoof beats. It wasn't long before he came across a small clearing. A beam of sunshine pierced the canopy and lit up the circular area. Feet and hooves had disturbed the ground but there were too many to distinguish them. It was a popular spot for trysts. He'd been here himself once, many years earlier, to steal a secret kiss from a lover.

  He left the clearing, keeping alert for any movement in the trees. But the gentleman, if indeed Philly had met with one, was long gone.

  ***

  "I won't tell you," Phillippa said for the third time. She wouldn't meet Georgiana's gaze in the reflection of her dressing table's oval mirror but instead fingered a rope of pearls she'd not yet put on. "I won't," she said again, punctuating the words with a pout.

  Gerogiana sighed. She'd invited herself into Phillippa's room while the girl dressed for the evening in the hope she might confide in someone who wasn't family. But after trying different enquiring tactics, Georgiana was none the wiser as to whom Phillippa had met in the trees. She was quite certain, however, that it was a man. Girls didn't blush that easily when a man wasn't involved.

  "What if I promise to not tell Redcliff or your aunt?" Georgiana said, threading rosebuds through the girl's fair tresses. Phillippa had dismissed her maid when Georgiana had offered to help her dress.

  Phillippa didn't answer but toyed with the string of pearls, rolling the little balls between her thumb and finger. "I wore these last night," she said on a sigh.

  "Allow me." Georgiana draped them in swags in Phillippa's hair, attaching the necklace behind the roses so that it appeared as if it was secured by the flowers themselves. With her Grecian-inspired hairstyle, the effect was one of classical elegance and perfectly matched the border of her evening gown. The girl smiled at her reflection. "Oh yes, much prettier. I'd never have thought to use them in my hair. Where did you learn to do that?"

  Georgiana laughed. "I've been to a ball or two and a soirée here and there."

  Phillippa's blush deepened. "Of course. Your father was a baronet, wasn't he?"

  "The village near where I grew up has a May Day ball every year and another at Christmas." She fingered the embroidered border of Phillippa's puffed sleeve. "I never wore anything quite as beautiful as this though." Then, in case Phillippa thought she regretted her meager belongings, she laughed again. "It's probably just as well. I was a bit of a wild thing when I was younger and a dress as fine as this one would undoubtedly have been ruined before the night began."

  "Oh, me too! The hems of my dresses always end up muddy somehow." She inspected the elaborate border of her dress with its series of roses decorating the festoons of lace.

  "It's fortunate that you'll not be at a country affair tonight then," Georgiana said. "And I'm hoping you'll not wander outside on your own." This last was said with as much severity as she thought she could get away with. She was no relation of the girl's and she didn't want to dictate to her when her brother had been doing that ever since their return from Hyde Park. What Phillippa needed was kind but firm advice.

  "I won't," Phillippa said, rising from the stool without meeting Georgiana's gaze.

  Georgiana handed the girl her long white gloves. "Your brother is only concerned for you. He really is trying to do what's best."

  Phillippa screwed up her nose. "How does he know what's best for me?" She slapped the gloves in the palm of her hand. "How do you?"

  Georgiana knew very well. She had expected it would probably come to this when she'd decided to go to Phillippa's room. If she were to explain the dangers then she had to give the girl solid examples—she knew of no better example than her own.

  She plucked Phillippa's gloves from her fingers and placed them on the dressing table then took Phillippa's hands. The girl looked at Georgiana with exaggerated boredom, as if she expected yet another lecture.

  "I was older than you when I fell in love for the first time," Georgiana said. "Or at least I thought I was in love." She shook her head. That detail wasn't important. "I allowed the gentleman to...seduce me. Do you know what I mean by that?"

  Phillippa nodded, her unblinking focus having shifted entirely onto Georgiana, her cynicism forgotten.

  "He was handsome, charming and knew so much about the world. I thought he was wonderful. But after he seduced me, everything changed. Our relationship came to nothing, despite my expectations. There was much hurt on both sides and...and he ended up disparaging my reputation." Her eyes stung as the memories returned with a force she'd not expected. Memories of her heart being broken and her life spiraling out of her control. "He said I was just like one of those girls. I thought he was referring to the Porter sisters, his neighbors, who had a reputation for luring the grooms into the woods then kissing them. Now I know he meant women far looser than the Porter sisters."

  Phillippa gasped. "You mean...a trollop!"

  Georgiana nodded to cover a flinch. It hurt like the devil, even after all this time. "The villagers had already begun to talk about me, questioning my virtue, but then they completely snubbed me."

  Phillippa swallowed. Apart from that single movement, she was as still as Georgiana had ever seen her. "They thought you were a trollop based on one man's word? And after they'd known you all your life too!"

  "No, they hadn't. I was almost a stranger to them. He was a patient of mine," she clarified. "I resided in the gentleman's house with only servants and his aging mother as chaperones."

  "Oh. I see. How awful for you."

  It was worse than that. So much worse. She didn't tell Phillippa that some weeks had lapsed between the first time Lawrence made love to her and his change of heart. They'd spent as many moments together as they could until she realized she'd softened towards him. She cared for him and hated seeing him suffering the horrible effects of opium withdrawal, so when he begged her to give him back his powder, she gave in. Just a little, but it was enough to satisfy his addiction. But by then his affections for her had waned. They made love less, he
no longer sat with her for hours to just talk. He still told her he loved her but then he began saying something else—he told her he needed her. He even likened his feelings for her to his need for opium. It was then that Georgiana had woken as if from a stupor. She pulled back, distanced herself emotionally and that's when she realized he no longer loved her. He only wanted her for the opium. And because she'd given it back to him, his addiction didn't improve. She took it away again, began his treatment from the beginning. But he knew where she kept it—he knew everything about her—and he stole it. His valet discovered him dead the next day, a few crumbs around his mouth all that was left of the opium brick.

  "Was your reputation ruined?" Phillippa asked gently, her hand on Georgiana's.

  "Oh yes. The gossips made sure of that. Rumors were rife in the local village where he lived but thankfully didn't follow me home or my career would have been ruined too. It's something of a miracle I'm still employable." But it wouldn't take much digging for the story to surface. Sir Oswyn proved that. He knew of her past but fortunately overlooked it in favor of her more recent impeccable reputation. Redcliff, on the other hand, seemed unaware. A handful of others who'd made enquiries also knew—men who'd previously stated their intention to marry her but had quickly withdrawn their offers after learning about Lawrence.

  "These things have a way of clinging to you." She tried to smile but her face was stiff with the effort of not crying. "Gentlemen don't like women with pasts, particularly women who also have to work. The combination is unpalatable to them." She squeezed Phillippa's hands then released them. "Haven't you wondered why I wasn't married?"

  "Yes but..." Phillippa heaved a sigh. "I never knew it would involve such scandal! It's most shocking," she said, voice hushed. "That gentleman's behavior was despicable. Have you seen him since?"

  "He died." A lump lodged in her throat, heavy and uncomfortable. She'd not thought of Lawrence in a long time. She'd cared for him once. She'd thought she had a future with him until he'd betrayed her. But that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was she'd as good as killed him.

  If only she hadn't given in to him. If only she'd been stronger.

  "Oh." Phillippa chewed her lip. She glanced up at Georgiana then quickly looked away, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

  "What is it?" Georgiana prompted. "Go on, you can ask me anything."

  "Well...what was it like? Being with a man in that way?"

  The lump lightened. Georgiana smiled at the girl's incurable sense of adventure. It would be a close thing for her to save her virginity until her wedding night. "You will have to find out for yourself." She gently took Phillippa by her shoulders and peered into her innocent, sixteen year-old face. "But not until you are wed to a nice gentleman. Do not throw away your virtue. We women own very little but we own that. Protect it. Cherish it. Then entrust it to a man who is honorable, not to a man who skulks about Hyde Park. A true gentleman, one who loves you, will approach your brother and offer to court you in the proper way. That is the sort of gentleman who is worthy of you, Lady Phillippa."

  Tears puddled in the girl's eyes. "Call me Philly." She drew Georgiana into a fierce hug. "If I hear any rumors about you and Alex I'll pour water on them immediately."

  "Thank you but my days on the marriage market have ended."

  "Tosh!" Phillippa drew on her long gloves and checked her reflection again. "It's never too late to marry. I know of one lady who was thirty-one before she wed for the first time. Of course, her husband was about Aunt Harry's age but beggars can't be choosers can they?"

  She kissed Georgiana's cheek then danced and twirled her way to the door. "And I think I know just the right man for you."

  Georgiana watched her leave then followed her out, not quite sure if her message had truly sunk in. She sighed as she made her way to her own room. The last thing she needed was to deflect the attentions of Redcliff as well as an unwanted suitor while keeping an eye on Phillippa and curing Redcliff of his opium addiction.

  She needed a good night's rest so that she would be in the right frame of mind tomorrow to juggle all her tasks. But she knew she wouldn't sleep until Redcliff returned and she tried, again, to persuade him to give up his opium.

  ***

  Georgiana had read the same page of her book twice and was about to give up and go to bed when the front door opened and Redcliff, Phillippa and Lady Weatherby arrived home. Redcliff immediately looked into the library and smiled on seeing her.

  "Still awake?" he asked.

  "I thought you might require me to administer your headache tonic," she said, standing and replacing the book in the shelves.

  Lady Weatherby strode into the library, the tall peacock feathers on her hat brushing the top of the door frame. "I'm sure one of the servants could do that," she said, "if Alexander couldn't manage it himself."

  "It's quite all right, Aunt," Redcliff said. "It's what Miss Appleby is paid to do."

  Lady Weatherby's scowl implied she wasn't entirely sure if Georgiana's presence was necessary for the administering of a little headache tonic every night.

  "Hello, Georgiana," Phillippa said, darting out from behind her aunt's dark blue gown. "I hope your night was more pleasant than ours."

  "You didn't enjoy your evening?"

  "It was so dull. Lady Bromley invited every girl present to entertain the guests with a musical piece." Phillippa pulled the sort of face made after eating a sour apple.

  "Most were lacking an ear for music." Redcliff tipped his head at his sister. "Fortunately for all of us, my sister managed to escape Lady Bromley's enthusiasm." He poured himself a glass of brandy and raised his brows at Georgiana. She shook her head. There would definitely be no brandy for her tonight.

  "Miss Merriville played superbly," Lady Weatherby said.

  It took a moment for Georgiana to place the name, but then she remembered Miss Merriville was the girl Lady Crighton had mentioned when she and Lady Twickenham had visited. The one she wanted to match to Redcliff.

  Georgiana watched him closely for a reaction. There was none. Her own twinge of relief alarmed her.

  "She was the only one," Phillippa said.

  "Such harsh judgment from someone who plays the pianoforte as if she were hammering nails," Redcliff said.

  "Yes, but I'm not attempting to play in front of an audience."

  "You might have to if you want to catch a husband."

  "The sort of husband I want to catch will be interested in whether I can keep up with him on a hunt, not play an instrument well enough to entertain a few friends."

  Redcliff chuckled into his glass.

  Lady Weatherby scowled at them both. "Miss Merriville is quite the prettiest thing too," she persisted. "Don't you think so, Alexander?"

  "Quite pretty, Aunt, but I'm not going to marry her."

  "Very well," Lady Weatherby said, not sounding in the least bit defeated. She turned her attention to Georgiana. "You must be tired, Miss Appleby. Would you care to walk with Phillippa and I up the stairs?"

  It was an obvious attempt to separate Georgiana from Redcliff. Clearly she didn't trust leaving them alone at night.

  "Not yet." It was Redcliff who spoke. He placed his glass on the sideboard and approached his aunt. "Miss Appleby needs to inspect my nose as well as administer my headache tonic tonight. I'm sure you don't wish to witness that." He kissed her on the cheek then kissed Phillippa's forehead. "Good night, ladies. See you at breakfast."

  Lady Weatherby accepted the dismissal with a curt nod and a tight-lipped glower. "Come along, Phillippa."

  Phillippa yawned and bid Georgiana and Redcliff goodnight then allowed her aunt to usher her from the library. Redcliff watched them climb the stairs then shut the heavy door. "Are you sure you don't want a drink?"

  "After what happened last night? No, thank you."

  He returned to the sideboard to retrieve his glass. "It wasn't the drink that made you kiss me," he said, sitting down opposite her.

  S
he ignored his wicked smile. Tonight would not end up like the night before with the itch of unscratched need raking her skin. She'd tossed and turned for hours. There would definitely be no kissing this time. "How is your nose?"

  "An endless source of amusement to the gentlemen present this evening, but otherwise the pain is negligible."

  "I'm sure the ladies weren't quite as amused as the men."

  He raised his glass to her. "I admit their attentions did ease the pain somewhat. Unfortunately it didn't make the evening go any faster. I've not wanted to come home so much in my life." He drained his glass and settled back in the leather chair. The dark bruises around his eyes contrasted starkly with the icy blue gaze.

  "You should have pleaded a headache. Your aunt agreed to let you go if you were ever plagued by one."

  "Perhaps next time."

  Why not this time? Perhaps Miss Merriville was more interesting than her musical performance. Georgiana wondered if he had been alone with her and felt another pang of jealousy she wished would go away. "How many were at the soirée?" Talking about nothing in particular was sure to get her mind off the twist in her insides.

  "About forty, including some people you've met. Lord and Lady Twickenham were there."

  The twist became a knot. Forget Miss Merriville, Lady Twickenham was a far greater concern. Georgiana searched his battered face for a sign that he'd carried on some sort of tryst with her but found none.

  "As well as my friend, Lord Northbridge," he said, oblivious to the tumult within her. "Although God knows why, he hates those sort of things and he's not looking for a wife."

  Perhaps he was looking for a lover. Georgiana felt sick. Lord Northbridge had escorted Phillippa out of the stand of trees that first time she'd gone missing in Hyde Park. Were they telling the truth or had they met clandestinely?

  "Did he chat to anyone in particular?" she asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

  "He spoke with Phillippa a great deal. And I know what you're thinking." His swollen eyes sharpened. "But they seemed to be speaking mostly about you."