The Duke's Hellion

by Julia Sinclair

  It was too easy to imagine Tristan keeping a woman on some discreet street somewhere, paying her an annuity to keep her. Once her mind started with the thought, it wouldn't stop. Would Tristan like a quiet woman? Would he take pleasure with her and laugh and eat the way he never seemed to do with anyone, or—

  Her thoughts were broken by Tristan's soft laugh.

  "I can't see your face right now, but I'll bet it's like a cat that's licked the cream and found it sour."

  "What does that matter? I asked you a question."

  "You did, and I fail to see why. Why do you want to know where I learned to braid hair?"

  She couldn't bring herself to ask him whether his mistress had taught him. It was none of her business, even though it sent a sharp spear of rage and desolation straight through her heart.

  He finished the braid, tying it off with a bit of ribbon. He stroked his hand down its length once even as she twisted away from him.

  "I don't care at all. I was merely curious."

  "Curiosity's an irritating thing in a woman."

  She was nearly ready to spit, and then she saw the glint of amusement in his eyes.

  "You're baiting me."

  "You're making it very easy tonight. I have to admit, Georgiana, I'm a little disappointed. You have such a reputation in the ton for a sharp tongue and ready mind, and yet…"

  "I am hardly at my best right now, and you are cruel for taking advantage. I hope you sleep very well on the floor."

  To think she had been considering giving him the bed. She ignored him as he chuckled, going to make his bed down on the floor.

  She curled up tight in the blankets, trying to will herself to sleep. This entire ordeal was a nightmare, and her brain simply would not stop providing her with pictures of Tristan with some woman he was keeping off of Henrietta Street, a fashionable neighborhood if a slightly obscure one. He certainly had the means, and perhaps he was one of the men with two lives, who saved all of his joy and laughter for some woman in a house he had purchased for her.

  "Georgiana?"

  "I am sleeping. I do not know why you are not."

  "Possibly it is because I am frigid and stiff down here. You could have padded it with another blanket."

  "I could do a great many things."

  "Yes, I know. I know how to braid because Ned and I would braid our pony's mane and tail."

  "What?"

  "You heard me. Just boys dressing their pony up. Ned thought she liked it, and it made her feel fancy. I went along with it because I thought Ned deserved to be happy about something after our mother died."

  "Oh."

  "So, can you stop grinding your teeth? I can hear you being angry from down here."

  "I am not grinding my teeth!"

  "Good night, Georgiana."

  "Good night, Tristan."

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  Tristan woke up warm, comfortable, and with a feeling of being utterly rested. It was strange enough that it woke him almost immediately. He hadn't slept very well since he was a boy, and for the first time in a long time, he actually felt the way other people said they felt when they woke up.

  Then he realized that he wasn't at home in London, and that he was not alone.

  He had started the night on the floor, doing the gentlemanly thing. At some point, he had dragged the blankets and his pillow up from the floor and found his way into the bed, which he was now sharing with...

  Georgiana lay asleep in his arms, her nose buried in his shirt and one possessive arm thrown over his ribs. Even as he shifted, she grumbled something in her sleep that even to his ears sounded dire and held on more firmly.

  I should really do something to stop this. I shouldn't let this go on.

  Despite that very sane pronouncement, however, Tristan couldn't resist watching Georgiana sleep so close and so sweetly next to him. There was something so beautiful about her when she was still that it could take his breath away. A celestial kind of beauty, something almost inhuman.

  But I don't like it half as well as when she's laughing.

  He realized with some amusement that it was true. Doubtless, most of the ton, especially the part that had found itself on the wrong side of her sharp tongue, would like her far better if she was simply silent and beautiful, but he had known her for so long. She was beautiful asleep, but she was in her element, at her most gorgeous and perfect, when she was in motion, laughing, talking, teasing, and showing off the pure and golden light that seemed to shine from her.

  Almost without being aware he was doing it, Tristan reached down to trace a fingertip along her high cheekbone. At his touch, her long, surprisingly black eyelashes fluttered, and she looked at him sleepily. She smiled a little, and he noticed how red her lips were and how perfectly shaped.

  I am definitely noticing too much.

  "What in the world are you doing in my bed, Tristan? Get out!"

  Before he could compose an adequate answer, she had pushed him out of the bed, sending him sprawling to the ground in only his breeches and his shirt.

  "Have a care, Georgiana!"

  She poked her head over the edge of the bed to glare at him. "I will if you will! What were you thinking, Tristan, crawling into bed with me?"

  "I don't remember doing it! Last I remember, I was in my sad little bed on the ground and trying to drift off. The floor was uneven underneath me and how there was a draft coming in from the door."

  "And I suppose the next thing you knew, you were in bed with me?"

  "Look, I'm no more pleased with it than you are. I'm sorry."

  He stood up, rubbing out the sore places from spending at least part of the night on the floor. She had pulled the covers up to her chin, and she was now watching him with a suspicious glare. Somehow, it didn't dim her charms in the least. It might have been easier if it did, but Tristan didn't suppose he was really going to get that lucky. He and luck had no acquaintance, it seemed, when it came to Georgiana Martin.

  "You swear you don't mean anything by it? Not even a terrible prank?"

  He blinked. "You would believe me?"

  She looked down, and even though he couldn't see it, he knew that she was chewing on her lip.

  "If you promised me you did. We may not always be on the best of terms, but everyone knows you can trust a Carrow."

  Tristan grinned a little. "Everyone knows, eh? Well, no worry on that account. I really didn't mean anything by it. I sincerely fell asleep on the floor and woke up in the bed. I suppose it was cold enough that my subconscious simply took over and put me someplace warm."

  "All right, I believe you."

  Even as he watched, Georgiana's unexpected vulnerability was replaced with something haughty and imperious. She lifted her chin as if there was a string running from it to the sky, and she somehow made herself look positively regal.

  "Now that we have that straightened out, you should step out to allow me to dress."

  "Sorry, Georgiana. We're meant to be married, remember? I don't know of any men who leave the room so their wives can dress. I'll turn my back though, so you can have your privacy. How about that?"

  "I suppose it will have to do."

  It was working out just fine, and Tristan didn't have any intention of cheating. He wasn't the kind of man who was so helpless in the face of bare female flesh, but then as he reached for his cravat, he noticed that the tall standing mirror in the corner of the room was angled just right so he could catch a glimpse of Georgiana's pale form as she shimmied out of her nightclothes and into a fresh shift. He tore his eyes away as soon as he realized what he was looking at, but the image of her long slender legs and sleek flanks was burned into his mind.

  For all that she looked like an angel, she had a body made for something far more earthly. Tristan had a vivid image of what it might be like to run his mouth along her beautiful limbs, to make her turn from taunts to gasps of pleasure, and he shoved the thoughts away hastily.

  Some sixth sense ma
de him look down, and to his surprise, she had crossed the room silently. Now she stood at his side, gazing at him through the mirror with a slight smile on her face.

  "Didn't catch you peeking, did I?"

  "Of course not. That would be wrong."

  "Of course. Perfect Tristan would never do anything in the least strange or shameful."

  "You almost... sound like you want me to have been spying on you."

  "Of course not. It's nice to see that your morals are as sound as they ever were."

  The compliment sounded like it was really more of a curse. Before Tristan could remark on it, however, she stepped back, shaking her head.

  "Don't mind me. I suppose I have woken up on the wrong side of the bed."

  "Sounds nice. I was pushed out."

  For a moment, he thought she would snap at him again, but then she grinned.

  "Fair enough, my lord. I'm going to see about sending a girl up with some washing water. Don't go anywhere."

  "Where would I go?"

  She left without giving him a reply, but he could hear laughter in her wake.

  * * *

  Later on, just before the carriage was declared ready, Tristan found her in the inn's courtyard, dangling one of her silk ribbons over the heads of a half-dozen tabby kittens.

  The kittens were adorable, but the look on her face was pensive. A moment ago, Tristan had been going to tell her to hurry and get into the carriage, but instead, he came to stand next to her instead.

  "Are you going to take one of them with you?"

  "I'd like to, if only for company, but it's not right to simply bring them along as toys. They should be out here, doing their jobs for the inn, shouldn't they?"

  "I suppose. If you wanted one, though, I would get it for you."

  She turned that bright smile to him, but there was something brittle about it.

  "You really can't stop it, can you?"

  "Stop what?"

  "Stop being... well, you."

  "That sounds a bit impossible, yes. What's the matter, Georgiana?"

  "I suppose that I expected time to change you. It has. You're stronger, broader. Even less forgiving and certainly more self-possessed. But... I guess some things never change."

  "You're speaking in riddles."

  "And that's fine for now. That's all you need to do, and if you remember that you are irritated with me, I think this might go far better for all of us."

  "I don't have to pretend to be irritated with you, you know." Tristan scowled. There was an undercurrent to this conversation he wasn't sure he liked.

  As if she wanted to take his mind off of it, Georgiana smiled, tucking the ribbon into her pocket and leaning down to give one of the kittens a final pat.

  "That's the spirit. We should get into the carriage. It must be ready by now, yes?"

  He led her back to the carriage, and for a moment, a single solitary glowing moment, he wanted to kiss Georgiana until she made sense.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  Strange how so much of this looks familiar. I've not been back to Devon in years.

  Gazing out the window of the carriage, Georgiana realized at some point that she was leaned against the side, as far away from Tristan as it was possible to get. On one hand, he was respecting her urge to pull back from him in the tight confines of the carriage. On the other hand, a part of her, a not inconsiderable part, wanted to be snuggled up against him like yesterday and that morning.

  The sun had finally come out, and though there were distant thunderclouds on the horizon, it was as if nature had made a tentative truce for the moment.

  Not unlike me and Tristan, I suppose.

  "What are you smiling about?" There wasn't any accusation in Tristan's voice.

  Georgiana glanced at him.

  "Nothing much, I suppose. Perhaps how very strange it is that we are in this together. I never expected to be so close to you again."

  "There are a thousand miles between us, Georgiana." She was startled at the sad tone in his voice. She started to say something in response, but to her irritation, her belly grumbled loudly, making Tristan laugh.

  "You know, at least your belly is honest enough in telling me what it wants. That hasn't changed."

  "I'm as honest as society allows me to be, and as far as many are concerned, I am far too honest as it is. Don't make fun. We are hours away from Fox Hall, and I do not think there is much food to be had between here and there."

  She thought Tristan would leave her to her silent reverie, but instead, he reached under the seat of the carriage and drew out a small bag. When he pulled out two small apples and what turned out to be cheese wrapped in a plain white cloth, her stomach betrayed her again, rumbling loudly.

  "The innkeeper sold me some provisions."

  She expected him to hand her one of the apples, but instead, he pulled a small knife from his jacket and set about peeling it neatly.

  "You remembered."

  "That you hate the taste of apple peel? I could hardly forget, given the way you carried on."

  "I never—" She stopped abruptly, for once catching on that he was baiting her.

  "No, you never complained. But you occasionally made a face. Here."

  He passed her slices of apple that tasted more delicious than Christmas sweetmeats to her at that moment. He shaved off curls of cheese to feed her as well, absently taking bites himself. The peel he flicked out the window, where some bird or rabbit would likely be lucky to have it.

  As they ate, Tristan shot her a look. "We should talk about what happens next."

  "What do you mean?"

  "We're going back to Fox Hall, where your father lives. Your father, who has never been so very fond of me. If we're going to investigate this, if you are still set on coming with me and not allowing me to do this myself—"

  "I am."

  "Then we should figure out what exactly it is we are doing."

  Georgiana nibbled at her cheese, not because she was thinking but because she knew that what she said next was not going to be received with a great deal of graciousness."

  "I think you should stay at Fox Hall."

  Tristan stared at her. "You must be joking. I have a perfectly fine house in town."

  "And it is nearly forty minutes by horse from Fox Hall. If I am to help you, Tristan, if we are to stay in contact during this entire ordeal, that amount of space is completely unacceptable."

  "Really. You think that having me at Fox Hall is going to be any more acceptable than us crossing the distance?"

  "I think that you will not shunt me out of the way so you can look where you please. I am the one who is being blackmailed. You cannot believe that I will let you do as you please."

  "You brought me into this game, Georgiana. You can hardly start making demands now."

  "It's not a game! And I am not making demands. I am simply saying that it will be easier to do what we need to do with you at Fox Hall."

  He stared at her. "Did you tell your father about all of this?"

  "No, I told you he wouldn't—"

  "No, I mean, did you tell him that I was going to be coming to stay with you?"

  "Well, no."

  "He and my father nearly dueled when they were young. Our families have been giving each other the cut indirect for years, and if you remember, he once threatened my father to have Ned hanged."

  "Those were just words—"

  "Ned was terrified, and it was all over some accidental trespassing!"

  "And Ned turned out fine, didn't he?"

  Tristan glared at her. "We're getting away from the point, which is that there is no way in the world that your father is going to allow me into your house."

  Georgiana shook her head. "I'll handle it. Don't worry."

  "I'm not worrying, I'm just—"

  Tristan broke off to look at her. Georgiana had spent her entire life being looked at by people who desired her, people who hated her, and people who wanted to be her. Why
then, was it so strange when Tristan did it? It made her blush even when there was no reason for her to be doing so, and she scowled at him.

  "What in the world is it, Tristan? Why are you looking at me like this?"

  "Are you frightened, Georgiana?"

  "That's ridiculous."

  "Is it?"

  His eyes were so dark, and sometimes, not even she could read anything in them. She took a deep breath, because it was far better than trying to process what he was saying or to hear the strange note of concern in his voice.

  "I'm certainly not afraid. There is nothing to be afraid of."

  Even as she said the words, she knew that it was folly. She had come to the man who loved her the least in all the world because she was in so much trouble she could not imagine how to get out of it without help. She stood to lose everything, and of course, she was afraid.

  She expected that Tristan might laugh at her, or worse, pity her. Georgiana's hands clenched into fists. She wasn't sure she could take pity from Tristan Carrow, of all people. It was surely more than she could bear.

  Instead of mocking her or offering some kind of platitude, however, he only nodded.

  "All right. I'll trust you to handle things then."

  "You...will?"

  "Of course. You are a woman of your word, or at least you are that I have seen. If you say you have it handled, then you do."

  Georgiana let the silence stretch like taffy for a moment.

  "Thank you."

  He nodded and handed her another sliver of cheese, making her smile a little.

  "Please don't think that I am some kind of wild animal that you can tame with food and soft words."

  "I would never think of it. The man who wants to tame you must use different tools."

  "I do not know if anyone has ever told you, Tristan, but very few women like the idea of being talked about as animals who need to be tamed.'

  "Oh? The men of the ton speak of nothing but."

  "Taming their wives?"

  "Taming you."

  She made a face. "Unpleasant."

  Georgiana knew that she shouldn't. Tristan had been kind enough to let the matter lapse into silence. He was going to let it go, and since she had the time, she should really have been spending the time getting herself prepared to see her father and to actually explain Tristan's presence at Fox Hall.