The Duke's Hellion

by Julia Sinclair

Georgiana made a slight humming sound as she buttered her toast. "You think we should go to Devon."

  "It's the end of the season anyway, so it's not as if we're going to attract attention. And that bastard's recruiting sergeant is stationed there. He must have mustered out by now, and that's the man who's going to know where the hell he went."

  "But he's operating in London now."

  Tristan shot her a wary look. "What contacts do you have in the London underworld?"

  "None, I'm afraid."

  "And neither do I. It might be different if we had your damned brother—"

  "He doesn't deserve that!"

  'All right, your brother and my cousin with us, but we don't. I could hire investigators, but I think the fastest thing, and the safest thing, would be to go to Devon ourselves."

  Georgiana blinked at him and then gave him a rather suspicious look.

  "You seem terribly eager to get me out of the city."

  Tristan hesitated, but then he shrugged. If they were going to be in this together, it hardly mattered. "This entire thing is making me nervous. Last night you were in Covent Garden, and I lost sight of you. I couldn't protect you, and for several minutes, I had no idea where you were. Anything could have happened to you."

  "Yes?"

  "And dammit, Georgiana, it is not a sensation I particularly care for!"

  They were both silent after his outburst, the only sound the clinking of their silverware on the china as they toyed with their food.

  Georgiana broke the silence first. "I did not bring you along on this enterprise to make you my bodyguard."

  "No. You dragged me into this because you had no one else. Not your father, not your brother, not any one of the mincing London fops who claim to love you and would travel to hell for your sake. You chose me instead, and now you are stuck with me."

  Instead of being offended or angry, Georgiana smiled a little. For some reason, Tristan was grateful to see it. He still couldn't quite forget the shivering Georgiana of the night before, and it was good to see her spirit peeking through again.

  "I suppose I must be stuck with you. And usually, unless you are being a high-handed and demanding bully, that's a good thing."

  "Is that what I am?"

  She raised an eyebrow. "Yes. You are remarkably bad at seeing the other side of things, and when you think you are right, nothing in all the world can stop you."

  "You seem amused by that."

  "Perhaps I am. Sometimes, it is nice to see that some things in the world do not change. Martins are reckless, Carrows are stick-in-the-muds, and you have the stubbornness of a herd of mules."

  "And you have a habit of getting into trouble you cannot get out of on your own."

  Georgiana winced at that, and her expression cooled a little.

  "Yes. I suppose that is accurate."

  She stood. "I find I have finished with breakfast. With your permission, my lord, I would like to retreat to my own abode and prepare myself for the journey to Devon."

  She wasn't going to like what came next.

  "No."

  She turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. "And why not?"

  "Because speed is of the essence. You only have a short time to get the money together, if you even can. Can you?"

  Georgiana looked down for a moment. "I could. It would beggar me. I would have to tell my father, or at least Thomas about this to have them release the funds."

  "So, we need to move fast. It will take us three days by coach to reach Devon, maybe four if the weather is against us, as it can be this time of year. If we take my carriage and switch out horses, we can be there much sooner."

  Georgiana nodded reluctantly. "You're right."

  "You needn't sound so sulky over it."

  "I suppose I just hate admitting when you might have a point. No, speed is of the essence."

  "And I had Honey bring along at least your essentials. After we leave here, I told her she could have the responsibility of getting your household to Devon for the summer."

  Georgiana blinked. "And how did she take that?"

  "With wide-eyed fear and a certain amount of terror. It'll be good for her, though."

  "You are not allowed to decide what is and is not good for my maid as a rule, but I'm not going to question this one. You're right, I think it would be good for her."

  "She's smart, and she has a certain amount of ambition."

  "She is at that. All right, Tristan, since you have made sure that I am equipped for the journey and you have so ably dispatched my household staff, when shall we leave for Devon?"

  "After breakfast, I should think. No time like the present. My household can put itself together just as yours can."

  She stared at him, and then chuckled ruefully. "I suppose if I didn't want utter competence and speed, I should not have come to you."

  "That almost sounded like a compliment. You're slipping, Georgiana."

  "I must be. All right. I'll change into suitable clothes for your terrible trip, and we shall leave."

  After Georgiana left the room, Tristan sat still for a moment. He wondered why instead of being enraged that he was forced to derail his life for Georgiana yet again, he was strangely excited. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen the world around him so clearly.

  Most of the time, he felt as if he went through the world in a haze, going through the motions and occasionally being irritated at the things that got in his way. It wasn't a bad way to live, he figured. Most of the ton likely did the same. Hell, most of the world probably did as well.

  It just wasn't possible when he was around Georgiana. She lit up the world, forced him to see it, to touch it, to interact with it and be a part of it. It had always been this way.

  Tristan rose to make his own preparations to go to Devon, putting such strange thoughts out of his head. It wasn't as if he had time for them right now.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  The rain pattering on the carriage roof almost put Georgiana to sleep, and she found herself leaning on Tristan yet again. It was too tempting to let her eyelids droop and to curl up against him. Instead, she jerked herself upright, rubbing her eyes and trying to find something engaging out the carriage window. It was all gray rain, however, and she scowled.

  "Go to sleep. I won't mind being your pillow."

  She gave him an arch look. "It's hardly appropriate."

  Tristan uttered a deep sigh that she thought was uncalled for, and then reached out, pulling her against him. She almost struggled, but then she simply sighed, relaxing into him.

  "Comfortable?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  "I was getting tired of looking at you being as upright as a pin. It doesn't suit you."

  "And, of course, you're the one who knows what suits me best."

  "I can usually take an educated guess."

  "Can you? Really?"

  Tristan chuckled, and she could feel it through his body. It was strange. She had always heard that the greatest intimacy was achieved when looking straight into someone's eyes, but when it came to Tristan, they seemed to do so much better when they weren't looking, when they simply acted without thinking too much about it.

  "All right. Let's see. What suits Lady Georgiana Martin? You wear blue and gold like it's some kind of uniform, but you like red best. You've got most of London convinced that you're their bosom friend, but you really can't stand most of the ton. You don't care overmuch for sweets, but violet candy will turn you into an absolute pig—"

  "That's not true at all! I like violet candy an appropriate amount."

  Tristan snorted, which she thought crude of him. "No, I like violet candy an appropriate amount. I saw you buy out that store's entire supply."

  "Pennyworth's Sweets had a ridiculously small amount of violet candy, I can't be shamed for that."

  "Well, I wasn't going to shame you, and the proprietor certainly wasn't going to, but yes, you've an absolute love of violet candy. You don't like ridi
ng much, but you're good at it, and actually, that accounts for many things you do. You're good at them, but you don't particularly like them."

  "It's convenient to be good at them."

  "Spoken like a woman of natural talent."

  It came so close to being a sincere compliment that Georgiana nearly looked up at Tristan to see if he were joking.

  It occurred to her as they both lapsed into silence how dangerous this was. It was so easy to fall into the patterns they had created together years ago. Perhaps that was why they had maintained such high and defended walls of bare civility and verbal barbs whenever they ran into each other at the odd social event.

  There were a dozen things she wanted to ask him. Do you ever think of how we were? Do you remember our time fondly or with that famous disdain of yours? Are you still angry? Will you ever forgive me?

  Did you mean what you said?

  "This is strange, isn't it?"

  Tristan's voice was hushed, and Georgiana realized that if she wanted to, she could ignore it. That probably would have been the wiser thing to do, when all was said and done. The more she engaged with Tristan, the more she unearthed the past. There was no future for them that wasn't found in the wreckage of her nineteenth year. It would have been better by far to stay out of that terrible wasteland, to let it lie. It was almost a comfort that Tristan found it as strange as she did.

  "Very. I hadn't ever thought I would be this close to you again."

  "Is it so very terrible?"

  The vulnerability in his voice shocked her, and she knew that if she wanted, she could make sure he was never this open with her again. Tristan was as proud as sin and usually utterly unassailable.

  Georgiana was truthful when she answered. "No. Excepting one or two times, it's never been terrible to be with you."

  Tristan chuckled. "Georgiana, honest to the last drop. It was always one of the reasons I liked you. You tell the truth and you turn it into a sword."

  "That's funny, because sometimes, it feels as if I do nothing but lie, to myself and to the rest of the world."

  Somehow, she had shifted so she was looking up at him. He had always been a handsome man. Now she could see that there had been some changes in his face. It had been five years since they were in such close quarters, and in that time, he had matured, much as she had. There were already some fine lines at the edges of his eyes, but she thought that more than that, there was something fierce and unbreakable in his eyes.

  "We're never going to be the people we were again." The way he said it was almost a warning.

  "Good. I used to be a fool."

  "And what are you now?"

  Georgiana's voice was almost a whisper. "Here. With you."

  The kiss was as inevitable as the sunrise. She leaned up, or he leaned down, and suddenly his mouth was on hers. This was different from the hurried kiss they had shared before. This felt sweet and warm and gentle. They were tentative as they explored each other, almost as if they were uncertain about their footing, where they might go and where they might fall.

  Tristan still tasted so good to her, and he still sent sweet fire dancing through her body. Her hands slipped under his jacket, and through the fabric of his shirt, she could feel the warmth of his skin and the muscle coiled underneath it.

  Tristan's hand slid along the line of her jaw and down to her throat, and she could sense him searching for her pulse, just to feel the life throbbing through her.

  Georgiana made herself speak. "This is dangerous."

  "Everything with you involved is."

  There was no telling what might have happened if there hadn't been a shout and then some frenzied conversation out the window. Georgiana sat up straight, straightening her skirts and fixing her hair quickly, and Tristan scowled. He pushed her back into the corner of the carriage and opened the door into the rain, half leaning out.

  "What's going on?"

  "The road's rained out ahead of us, my lord. It's impassable. If we keep going, we'll be mired."

  Tristan swore. "Is there any place hereabouts we can ask for an alternate route?"

  "There's an inn a quarter of a mile back, my lord. I don't like to backtrack, but we could learn more there, of course."

  "Good man. Thank you."

  Tristan ducked back into the carriage, slicking some of the water out of his hair.

  "We may be a little delayed getting to Devon."

  "I heard. Your poor driver must be getting quite soaked."

  "Yes, I'll have to make sure he receives a bonus for driving all this way in this weather. Oxley's been with us since I was a teenager."

  Georgiana looked at him, amused. "You know, Blythe told me that you never remembered the names of your servants, that it was just always Ned who was the sweet one."

  "Blythe's mostly right. I don't have the trick for being familiar with the household, not like she or Ned did."

  "No, you're made for other things, aren't you?"

  She risked reaching out to lay a hand along his jaw. She liked feeling his stubble against her palm, and the way she could feel a muscle there jump as he looked at her.

  "I don't think I want to know what you think I am made for."

  "That's a shame. I might not have been as abusive as you feared."

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  The inn was small but far from shabby. They were apparently used to entertaining the quality, and Georgiana had nothing to complain about when she was shown the cozy room. She certainly had something to say about how they were signed into the guest book, however.

  "Doctor and Mrs. Smithfield? You married us?"

  He gave her a look, apparently completely unperturbed. "Do you object to being married to a mere doctor? I know that you expected a marquess, at the very least..."

  Georgiana fumed. "You know very well what I meant. Why not brother and sister? That would at least have gotten us separate rooms."

  "Because the innkeepers have eyes in their heads, Georgiana."

  It was true. With his dark looks and her blond hair and blue eyes, it would have taken some convincing to make anyone believe they were siblings. She knew she was verging on unreasonable, but after the past few days, it was hard being otherwise.

  Even the dash from carriage to the inn had soaked her, and she knew it was better for all of them to stay at the inn overnight rather than push through, risking the horses and the carriage itself. She just hadn't anticipated dealing with Tristan in a small room with a bed that was only nominally big enough for two people.

  Tristan sighed. "Don't worry. I'll take the floor."

  For once, though, it was not her reputation she was worried about. The kiss they had shared in the carriage was still fresh in her mind, and she couldn't quite shake the idea that he was so close, so easy to touch and to kiss again.

  The chances of them running into people they knew were slim, but neither of them felt like taking chances. They ate by candlelight in silence, and then as the hour crept forward, there was nothing to do but get ready for bed. She wondered if Tristan was thinking about their kiss in the carriage as well, but if he was, he was giving no sign.

  "I'll go see to a few things with Oxley and make sure that we know when we are leaving in the morning. You should get into bed. I'll try not to disturb you when I come in."

  When he was gone, however, the little room felt strangely forlorn. She busied herself with making a pallet for Tristan on the floor, but it looked depressingly hard. Then she wondered why she cared. Shaking her head, she stripped out of her dress and hung it up. Her sleeveless shift would serve well enough for a nightgown, and it wasn't like anyone was checking to see if she was fashionably attired in bed, at least.

  Georgiana could tend her hair herself, especially if she did the braids that so many ladies of the ton resorted to when they were traveling, but tonight it felt as if she were all thumbs. Her hands had finally warmed up again from the rain, but her hair was damp, the fine strands too thick to be easily man
aged.

  "Oh, come on, come on..."

  At some point, her hair had become hopelessly tangled, and she was just contemplating grabbing a pair of scissors to chop off the offending knots when Tristan came back.

  "I thought you would take longer!"

  He shrugged. "So did I. What a mess you have made."

  "Usually, I have Honey to help me. It's fine, I'll just sleep on it and try to do something with it in the morning."

  "It'll be worse by morning, and I don't relish the thought of a delayed start while you fight with your hair. Come here."

  As easily as if they did this all the time, Tristan sat on the bed and when Georgiana approached him cautiously, he indicated that she should sit in front of him.

  Something about this felt more intimate than what they had done in the couch. Their kiss had been clothed in passion and heat. This was a sweetness and an intimacy of a different sort.

  If Georgiana had ever guessed that Tristan would untangle her hair for her, she would have thought that he would be rough and brusque. Instead, his hands were as gentle as Honey's, working patiently with each knot to pick it free. When her hair flowed down her back, he brushed it until it shone, and she was nearly purring. She only came back to herself when he laughed softly.

  "Apparently, all it takes to calm you down is a good brushing. When Ned and I were boys, we had a pony that was similar."

  "I would be offended if that didn't feel so good. Keep going."

  She thought he would stop just to spite her, but the long strokes continued, running from her crown down to the very ends of her hair around her waist. Once or twice, Tristan passed his fingers through her hair, and that felt even better.

  When he started braiding her hair, his touch sure and gentle, she jumped a little.

  "Where in the world did you learn to do that?" She couldn't quite keep the jealous tone out of her voice. Tristan didn't have a rakehell's reputation, but Georgiana had been raised in London's high society. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that plenty of the most righteous men of the ton kept mistresses. some openly, and some with intense secrecy.