The Kiss

by Sophia Nash

  Helston looked at Mr. Brown with disgust. “Observe the man before you, Brownie. Here stands a man willing to pay through the nose to save his neck.”

  The duke then turned toward him. “I suppose you think this relieves you of ingesting metal before breakfast tomorrow?”

  “I find I cannot deprive you of enjoying the reality of your great imagination, Helston.”

  “Now, now, lads,” Mr. Brown murmured. “If you think I’ll allow either of you near a sword or a pistol, you’re out of your minds. You may be hotheaded young bloods fueled by a misguided sense of honor, but I’m a practical old man who always thinks of the consequences.” He scratched his bald head. “Luc, your grandmother would fry my liver for supper if I let either of you near a dueling ground.”

  “Brownie, you’re a bigger coward than he is.”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  Helston turned his black gaze on Quinn. “If either Grace or Georgiana ends up hurt, I will hunt you down and—”

  Quinn held up his hand wearily. “Look, are you willing to meet Mr. Wilde and Georgiana to discuss the transfer of the property or not?”

  “It appears I have little choice in the matter.” Helston held out his hand for the documents. “I’ll see to reviewing these and meeting the Wildes tomorrow morning.”

  “They should not consider removing before the end of the month,” Quinn continued. “I’ve arranged to have some improvements made before then.”

  “Come along, Brownie,” Luc said, crossing to the door. “Perhaps my grandmother will allow you to strain her tea if you ask nicely enough. Shall I fetch you a mobcap and an apron?”

  “Laugh all you like, lad. It’s taken four decades to learn the proper way to court your grandmother and I don’t have another forty in me to win back her favor should I lose it again.” Brownie grinned. “And perhaps you’ve forgotten that if I get her in the proper mood, she might even offer up a bit of her Armagnac.”

  “Don’t hold your breath, old man.”

  Quinn stubbed out the forgotten cheroot, and hoped Luc St. Aubyn was a man who knew how to lie convincingly when necessity demanded it. Grudgingly, he thought he might be able to count on the barbarian. In fact, Luc St. Aubyn might just be one of the few people he could trust in this damned world. And wasn’t that just one more ironic proof that there was no sense of order in the universe?

  Chapter 15

  “Georgiana, you know there’s really no need for you to be seeing to these sorts of things now,” her mother said a fortnight later. She picked a remnant of cornstalk from her daughter’s hair.

  “I love working on the estate. It helps calm my mind. It’s the only thing familiar amid all these changes.” Georgiana buried her nose in the Carolina rose she had found on the cottage doorstep upon her return from the fields.

  “I realize that, dearest. I can barely contain myself at times.”

  Her mother stroked her hair distractedly and then drew a letter from her apron. “A footman delivered a letter from Grayson this morning. He’s finally been granted leave. His ship is due in at Portsmouth—Lord knows when, precisely, but he’s coming.”

  Georgiana’s heart swelled with relief. This was the small answer to her prayers. She added the rose to the vase filled with an assortment of roses now always present in her chamber.

  Her mother touched her fingers on the vase. “Miles Langdon has been a most considerate and constant friend lately, hasn’t he?”

  “Mama,” Georgiana said. “You’re not to read anything into it. I’ve known him my entire life and he was always very kind.”

  “Well, I do believe he’s taken a fancy to you, my dear.” Her mother moved the vase to the small, plain dressing table and indicated the bench. “Come, allow me to redo your hair.”

  Georgiana acquiesced. “There’s no need, really.”

  “I would disagree. You must make a haughty impression on the potential servants we’re to interview.”

  “Mama, it’s all so ridiculous. I still can’t feel comfortable with Papa’s arrangements with the duke. I’m certain Luc St. Aubyn has laid out an absurd amount in addition to Father’s portion from Quinn. And it’s all because of my friendship with Rosamunde and Ata.”

  “And well he can afford it, my dear. These great men gamble amounts some nights that would take a family such as ours three lifetimes to acquire. You needn’t feel guilty, you know. The duke will receive the vast majority of Trehallow’s tenant rents as repayment, don’t forget. If your father accepted the settlement, you, above anyone, know that it was all fair and good.”

  And she did know that. Father possessed more scruples than she. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel ill at ease.

  “For once, all is falling into place as it should for us. Your father has finally been able to rest properly—and the benefit shows. And you shall be settled in a place befitting a proper marchioness—and everyone will forget everything Gwendolyn Fortesque said.” Her mother brushed the tangles from her plain, dark brown hair. “With time and encouragement, Miles Langdon might even offer for you. With an estate such as Trehallow—well, it would be hard for a gentleman to do better. Especially a gentleman who is not the heir and one who is determined to stay in Cornwall, such as he.”

  Georgiana swallowed.

  Her mother lowered her voice. “And you’ll face none of the awkwardness of having to explain your deformities. He’s shown he’s willing to accept you as you are, my dearest Georgiana. And so handsome. You are a very lucky girl, indeed.”

  “Very lucky,” Georgiana whispered, looking down at her scratched and sunburned arms.

  “With a modicum more of luck, perhaps you’ll even make me a grandmother by next year’s harvest festival. I should like having a tiny, blond-haired Langdon for a grandchild.” Her mother smiled. “And think of all the proper young ladies of the neighborhood who will take an interest in Grayson now. We shall just have to work on him during his leave to give up this hard life at sea. I can’t bear the months of worry I suffer while he’s away.”

  “Mama, but he loves it so.”

  “It’s an impossibly cruel life. And when you have a child of your own, you’ll see just how awful it is for a mother to watch her children leave. I feel so grateful you will always be near us, Georgiana. It will be such a comfort.”

  “Mama…just promise me you won’t raise your hopes too high. You know I am happy just now. I’m not certain I will ever want to remarry. And now there will be no need. I am very lucky indeed.”

  Her mother tsked. “Come along. Let’s see to the candidates. I understand from your father that Helston saw to them personally, also. I don’t think this will take us long. It will be so nice to have a full complement of servants!”

  Several hours and interviews later, Georgiana was grateful to Miles for saving her from additional exaltations of joy from her beloved mother. Mama was taking to her soon-to-be life of leisure as quickly and as loudly as the martins were taking to the enormous new triple-stacked house Georgiana had erected near the gardens to dispatch some of the insects that plagued every picnic.

  “Are you certain riding won’t cause you too much pain?” Miles asked gently as he escorted her to the mounting block.

  Georgiana eased into the sidesaddle, hooking her bad right knee around the upright horn. “I’ve told you before that I ride all the time. There’s no need to worry.” She wished Miles would stop constantly mentioning her ugly limbs. He had no idea how much it irritated her. Would he ever understand that she pretended it never ailed her because she wanted desperately to be normal? Sometimes, but only very rarely, it worked.

  “I’ve always liked that you don’t complain, Georgiana,” he murmured.

  “Maybe you just don’t know me well enough.” She laughed. “I only complain on Saturdays.”

  “And why is that?”

  “So I’ll have something to repent on Sundays.”

  He grinned. “If that is all you have to repent, then you are nothi
ng like my family.” He swung up on his horse. “Where to?”

  “The beach? For a race? But let’s set a good wager.”

  His face lit up. “Racing and wagering? Clearly you’ve been spending too much time with my family, Georgiana.”

  “Perhaps I’m trying to become more like your family.” She clucked at her mount.

  He abruptly stopped his horse and looked at her shyly. “I should like it very much—or rather, I’m certain I would like it if…if, well, if you were part of my family.” His face flushed beet red, the color clashing with his fair complexion.

  She had never had the opportunity to flirt with gentlemen, and she became tongue-tied for a moment. Apparently Miles was as awkward at flirting as she. And she liked him all the better for it. “Miles Langdon, are you suggesting you would like me for a sister?”

  “Lord, no. Got enough sisters to ensure a place for me in Bedlam.” He continued on, their horses trotting behind the stables toward the path to the beach. “Nothing but trouble, sisters. But I was referring to—Hey, ho, wait up.”

  Georgiana broke into a canter to ease the jarring to her knee and to escape his suggestion. She called back over her shoulder to him. “Since I happen to adore your sisters, sir, your penalty if—or rather, when—I beat you will be high.”

  He caught up to her, laughing, and they both halted. “I beg of you—”

  “No. You’re in it but good now. If I win, you shall pick roses for Rosamunde every day for a fortnight—roses like the lovely ones you leave for me.”

  “What roses?” He wore a comical, owlish expression.

  “You know very well which roses, but play the innocent if you wish.”

  “I’ll never understand females.” He rolled his eyes. “More importantly, let’s discuss what I will receive when I win.”

  “One could never accuse you of modesty.” She grinned. “Well, then. Name what you would like.”

  “Maybe I will. Blast it. Georgiana, I…oh, hang it all. Maybe I should like permission to talk to your father about what I would like.” He didn’t look like he wanted to do anything of the sort.

  Oh, she thought faintly, she should know better than to dabble with flirtation. She dug the edge of her heel into her mount and burst forward into a gallop as soon as her horse’s hooves touched Porthleven Sands. Flocks of coot and shoveler together with yellowlegs tangled into the sky above her, nearly obliterating her view for a moment.

  She urged her horse on. Like a tight winch, she scissored her legs in the sidesaddle; her bad leg clenched around the upright horn, the other less injured limb pushed against the leaping horn. Her damaged, sinuous muscles screamed against the pain, and knotted.

  “Georgiana! Georgiana!” She could barely make out his voice as the wind whistled past her ears.

  The devil was in her now, and she would be damned forever if she didn’t beat Miles.

  Perverse. That was what she was. Perverse in the extreme. As she ignored the pain and drank in the sparkling beauty and tang of the sea, she wondered for an instant what was wrong with her. What made her run from every possible promise of happiness? What made her run from a chance to forget and begin anew, something she’d promised herself? It was all so unfair. She had a rut in her mind and couldn’t deviate from it.

  Well, she would—if it killed her. She gently eased back on the bit in her horse’s mouth, and a moment later the other horse shot in front of her. Miles shouted with glee.

  At the end of the crescent-shaped beach, he whirled around, his mount crow hopping to avoid the bubbling foam at the water’s edge.

  “I won! I won!” He shouted, unable to contain himself.

  Georgiana laughed. “Careful. I’m not your sister, and I think you’re supposed to be a bit more contrite when you best a lady, sir.”

  “But I never win.” He appeared chagrined by his rash comment. “That is, I almost never win. I beat Fitz and sometimes even Phinn, but, well, what I mean to say is…”

  He really didn’t want to admit the obvious, so she did it for him. “What you mean to say is that you’ve never beaten a girl.”

  “That’s it precisely—oh, hang it, Georgiana. You’re supposed to let me play the knight in shining armor. Well, at least that’s what my sisters do with their husbands.”

  Georgiana burst into laughter.

  He jumped off his horse and eased her from the sidesaddle. She crumpled when her feet touched the sand, a cramp seizing her right leg.

  “Oh!” she said, desperately trying to muffle the sound. She grabbed her thigh and knee and tried to push against the pain.

  Miles dropped both horses’ reins and dipped down beside her. “What is it?”

  “I’m fine. Really. It’s just a tiny cramp.”

  His face blanched as his gaze lowered. “Can I do anything? Shall I carry you to that log?”

  “No. No. Just give me a minute.” She discreetly rubbed the painful muscles, trying to appear collected while the stinging ache retreated bit by bit. She wished he wouldn’t watch while she dug her fingers deeply into the muscles lying below the folds of her dark brown riding habit.

  After long moments, the cramp released its hold on her.

  “Does that happen often?” Miles’s face was still pale.

  “No.” She should tell him the truth. “Only occasionally when I ride.”

  “Perhaps we should walk back, then?”

  She nodded and he stood up to offer her his hand. She looked up into his whiskey-colored eyes framed by dark blond brows, his pale hair ruffled by the breeze.

  It was such a gorgeous day, not a cloud shadowed the sparkling perfection of the sea. Only the call of the numerous gulls and other birds disturbed their privacy. She placed her hand in his broader one and he helped her up.

  “Georgiana?” He looked at her bashfully, his face just inches from her own. “May I kiss you?”

  She blinked. “I suppose so.”

  Georgiana closed her eyes and tilted her head toward the sun. She felt a shadow fall over her face and then the light pressure of his lips against hers.

  He didn’t dare touch any other part of her. He didn’t embrace her or rest his form against hers. He simply touched her lips tenderly for several long moments.

  He kissed her quite properly—gently, never daring to part his lips as Quinn had so shockingly done to her. It was a proper kiss. A kiss that showed the respect he held for her. There was really only one problem with his kiss.

  It felt like she was kissing her brother.

  She stepped back and looked at him. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

  “Dash it all, Georgiana,” he said in wonder. “That was lovely. Shall we have another go?”

  She smiled but shook her head. “I really think we should return to the house. A physician is to come for Father and I want to hear what he has to say.”

  “Hang it, Georgie. The doctor can wait a few more minutes. Do say you’ll allow me to kiss you again.” He was gripping her shoulders now, but she wasn’t worried at all.

  Indeed, his excitement left her with a quiet joy welling within her. She was about to protest when he went ahead and kissed her again. Even if it was all a bit foolish, it felt good to know someone desired her, truly.

  Suddenly Georgiana felt a hand on her shoulder and Miles was pulled away from her harshly.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Quinn asked Miles, his eyes dark. “Step away from her if you know what’s good for you. And by the by, when a lady shakes her head, it means no.”

  “Quinn!” Her heart churned. “You’re supposed to be in London.”

  “Well, I rather think it’s a good thing I’m not,” he barked. “And you both have precisely half a minute before Ata, Fairleigh, and the rest of your friends”—he looked pointedly at her—“join us. However, you were not so fortunate with Grace. She didn’t miss a moment of the display.”

  Georgiana looked over Miles’s shoulder to see Grace, half turned and determinedly looking at a stand of trees. S
he couldn’t bear to return her gaze to him. What must he think of her?

  She was supposed to be so true to Anthony’s love and memory that she would not ever consider anyone else. And yet she had repeatedly kissed Quinn—had made love to him even—and had refused him. And here she was with Miles Langdon a month later, kissing him on Perran Sands for the whole world to see. He must think her completely lacking in morals—or worse.

  “Look lively, Miles,” Quinn ordered. “Collect the horses. You have but a moment.”

  Georgiana stood there, unable to raise her eyes from the sand. “It’s not what you think,” she whispered.

  “Really?”

  “It was awkward. I know you’ll think I’m foolish, but I couldn’t hurt his feelings by refusing.”

  He raised a brow.

  “Look, you above all people know how I feel—what my choice is. It’s just that in this instance I made a mistake.”

  He looked closely at her and she resisted the urge to squirm.

  “Unlike you,” she breathed, “I seem to have a penchant for making mistakes.”

  “Don’t fool yourself. I’m very capable of making mistakes.”

  Oh, he was always so kind to her. But then, since he didn’t love her, of course, he wouldn’t rail against her actions, wouldn’t be jealous. He would just think badly of her, but never say it aloud.

  A chorus of greetings floated to her ears and she finally looked up to find Ata, Elizabeth, Sarah, Fairleigh, and now Grace coming toward her.

  “Georgiana!” Ata said waving. “Oh, I’m so glad we found you. Your mother asked us to tell you the doctor has arrived.”

  She took a few steps toward them, and the cramp returned to grip her leg with a vengeance. She stumbled and closed her eyes against the pain before she righted herself. She would not let anyone see her discomfort.

  She would not.