by Gaelen Foley
What a mysterious man he was, his impenetrable visage betraying no sign of his thoughts. His gray-green eyes were full of secrets, though she detected perhaps a fleeting shimmer of haunted pain in their depths.
As he stood there watching her, his powerful arms folded across his chest, she indulged in a fleeting study of his proud, patrician face. Its rectangular shape and chiseled features bespoke dignified strength and authority: He had rather a high forehead, angular cheekbones, a fine, assertive sort of nose, and a square jaw. A wavy lock of his dark brown hair had tumbled forward over his left eyebrow in the fray, but perhaps her stare made him a bit self-conscious, for he tossed it out of his face with a boyish motion at odds with his commanding presence. His firm, sensuous mouth, bracketed by the manly grooves in his cheeks, still showed little sign of a smile.
More intrigued than she liked to admit, Georgie looked away, slowly pulling the silken scarf off from around her neck, but she continued to survey him from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t seem to help herself.
Nankeen breeches hugged his muscled thighs. A morning coat of muted green broadcloth, subtle-toned like forest shadows, molded the sweeping expanse of his shoulders; the shade accented the complex celadon hue of his eyes.
But there was something else about him, a restless, hungry magnetism. A smoldering slow burn beneath his polished surface. It summoned up wayward thoughts in her mind of the erotic pleasures so vividly depicted in the temple carvings she had seen, or the curious illustrations from that wicked little book she had found once beneath her brother’s bed. She had been searching for her pet mongoose, fearing he had escaped the house. Instead, she had found the Kama Sutra.
She wondered if Lord Griffith had ever read it.
Well! This was hardly the time to ponder her secret obsession with sex.
Shaking off her momentary daze, Georgie turned away, irked to realize she was blushing. “Would you care for a drink, my lord? I should check on Lakshmi soon—and Adley.”
Poor poppet, the servants said her lovable bumbler had walked through the doorway and fainted the instant he’d gotten Lakshmi to safety.
“No, thank you,” Lord Griffith said with only a slight easing of his terse, formal manner. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I should be happy to pay my respects to your father at his earliest convenience.”
“Oh, Papa’s not here,” she said with a studied air of blithe unconcern, even as she braced herself for his reaction. Here we go.
“Oh,” he said in surprise. “When do you expect him back?”
“Haven’t the foggiest.”
“Pardon?”
“Oh, he’s sailed off halfway ’round the world again on some new venture with our cousin Jack,” she informed him with a dismissive wave. “He probably won’t be back until next year.”
“I see,” he murmured, a distracted frown settling over his chiseled face. “I was not aware of this.”
“Yes, I am sorry about that,” she answered in a soothing tone. “I had no way of getting word to you since you were already en route. But I did forward your letter on to my father at sea,” she added. “Jack’s merchant ships will often carry our letters for us, and Papa had asked me before he left to open his mail for him, and to send on anything of importance.”
“Well, I am very sorry to have missed him,” he said, absorbing the news. “Your father was a great favorite with all of us when we were boys, back in the days when he still lived in England. Will you give him my regards?”
“Happily, and I’m sure he sends you his own. Now then, come in, for heaven’s sake!” she chided, crossing the entrance hall to take his arm. “Don’t just stand there by the door, my dear guest! You must make yourself at home. Something to drink? Brandy? Lemonade?” She smiled up at him as she steered him toward the adjoining parlor.
“The latter sounds good,” he admitted, eyeing her with a cautious smile.
She flashed a grin. “I agree!”
Ian feared he enjoyed having the lively beauty on his arm a bit too much. When she had shown him into the parlor, Georgiana released her hold on him gracefully and went to the mahogany cabinet in the corner, where she poured out their drinks from a pitcher.
He watched her every move, still mesmerized in spite of himself. In short order, she carried two goblets back over and handed him one. He accepted the lemonade with a nod of thanks, then she lifted her glass in a toast to him.
“Welcome to India, Lord Griffith. And, ah, thanks for saving my life.”
He bowed to her in wry nonchalance.
She laughed at his modest reaction, then clinked her glass against his. They drank.
“Well, I may have missed your father, but at least I got a chance to meet you,” he murmured, studying his hostess with a narrow smile. The slight blush that rose in her cheeks surprised him. She did not seem the blushing type.
“La, sir, the honor is mine,” she shot back in an airy tone. “You’re the famous one.”
“Nonsense. Shall I wait here while you check on your friends?” he asked, gesturing toward the nearby couch.
“They’ll be all right for another moment or two without me. My servants are with them.”
“Good.” He nodded, and then dropped his gaze as a decidedly awkward silence descended, one, he feared, fraught with her full knowledge that she captivated him. He was certainly not the sort of man who gawked and lost his tongue in the presence of a beautiful woman, but…there was something about her.
He cast about for a change of subject and cleared his throat. “So, when do you expect your brothers home, then?” He assumed that Gabriel and Derek Knight were at the garrison, or perhaps waiting for him at Government House. He hoped, as an afterthought, they did not mind his brief, unchaperoned visit with their sister. But why should they mind? He was a trusted friend of the family, honorable to a fault, if he dared say so himself, and it was not as though anything naughty was going to happen.
Pity, that. Those lovely, rose-hued lips wanted kissing, but it wasn’t worth the risk. She was no worldly widow, no high-priced courtesan, but a marriageable young lady. Trifling with her would get him the one thing in the world that he least wanted: another wife.
Yet when Georgiana skimmed her lips with the tip of her tongue after her sip of lemonade, Ian fought off a violent shudder. Such forbidden urges would not do. She had inherited her scandalous aunt’s famed appeal. That was all. He looked away. “Your brothers?”
She, too, seemed to have lost track of the question. “Oh—um, they’re not here, either. Sorry.” She favored him with a sudden, breathtaking smile. “You’ll have to make do with me, I’m afraid.”
He stared again. “What a shame,” he murmured softly, trying not to think about all the things that he could do to her before her brothers showed up from their day’s work. He looked down at his glass. “Perhaps you should send for them to come home and meet me here, instead of over at Government House. That way, we’ll all be on hand in case that mob comes back.”
“Oh, don’t worry about Balaram’s relatives,” she said. “They’d never dare trifle with my family. Besides, I’ve got the garrison across the street, and most of the officers over there have promised my brothers they’d look out for me.”
He looked at her in question.
“Derek and Gabriel aren’t at Government House,” she admitted.
“No?”
“No.” She shook her head slowly, holding his gaze. Then she squared her delicate shoulders. “My brothers are two hundred miles north of here, with their regiment.”
“What?”
“Shall I show you to your room? My servants have prepared a very pleasant bedchamber for your stay. I am sure you will be very comfortable there. If you’d like to relax for a—”
“Wait! Just—wait one moment.” He set his glass of lemonade aside and then rested his hands on his waist. “Are you telling me, Miss Knight, that your father’s not here, and your brothers aren’t here; that, in short, you’re her
e alone?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that. I have Purnima, of course, and Gita, and all my other servants—”
His noisy exhalation cut her off as he turned away and raked his hand through his hair, striving for patience. Damn and blast. He should have known.
It was lucky for her that he was not a man who lost his temper. He scratched his eyebrow for a second, took a deep breath, and said: “Very well, what are we going to do to rectify this situation?” Perhaps Lady Hastings would have a few suggestions.
“What do you mean?” Georgiana asked, furrowing her pretty brow. “There is nothing to rectify.”
He scoffed none too tactfully. “You cannot stay here by yourself! What on earth your family was thinking, I do not know, but I will not hear of it. Especially now.”
“I already told you Balaram’s clan is not a threat, and besides, I’m not alone. You’re here!” she said with a cheerful but rather forced smile.
At least she was beginning to look nervous, he thought dryly, shaking his head at her. That meant at least she had some vague clue that what she was suggesting, his staying the night with her—alone—was beyond inappropriate.
It was scandalous.
Ah, but what else did he expect of the niece of the Hawkscliffe Harlot? He’d be a fool to trust this woman. For a moment, he even wondered if this was some devious trick to snare him in marriage. God knew it happened every time he set foot in London! Fortunately, he had become as wily as a Berkshire fox over the years in escaping the huntresses of the ton, from the tuft-chasing debutantes to their matchmaking mamas.
Maybe she thought she’d be doing her family a favor, snaring him for the long-awaited alliance, but Ian was having none of it.
He wanted a wife like he wanted a hole in his head.
He folded his arms across his chest and fixed her with an exacting glare. “I did not come here to ruin a young lady, Miss Knight. Nor to play chaperon to one. I came to try to stop a war, if it’s quite all right with you. I cannot possibly stay here with you alone, as I’m sure you know quite well.” And as much as I might relish the idea. Good Lord, the temptation might be more than he could stand. “I realize we’ve only just met, so forgive me if I sound a bit unmannerly, but what in blazes are you up to?”
“What? Whatever do you mean?”
He arched a brow at her feigned innocence, some of his vexation giving way to intrigued amusement quite in spite of himself. “You’re playing games with me,” he said softly, “and I don’t recommend you continue.” He narrowed his eyes, watching her. “What’s going on?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, all big blue eyes and a hurt little pout. “On the contrary, sir, as you are my father’s friend, I am doing my best to make everything simple and convenient for you!”
“Really?”
She nodded. Such an earnest picture, the little hellion! “I sent my carriage to wait for you every day for a fortnight. Now that you’re here, I have a lovely day planned out for us. Once you’ve settled in, we’ll spend the afternoon relaxing in the garden, and you can make your preparations for your mission. Then we’ll have a good supper and a nice long chat—get to know each other better, won’t that be nice?” Certain portions of his body throbbed with agreement, but she forged on. “And finally, after a good night’s sleep, we’ll set out bright and early for Janpur.”
Ian’s eyes flared, and then he clenched his jaw. “Janpur,” he echoed in a strangled tone, barely knowing where to begin.
He turned away and began to pace.
If Miss Knight had known him better, she would have recognized this as a cause for worry.
“Janpur,” he said again, taking his now simmering vexation firmly in hand.
She nodded. “Yes, I hear it’s very beautiful this time of year.”
“Miss Knight, your brothers were not at leave to reveal to you our destination. Which part of ‘confidential mission’ don’t they understand? Good God!”
“No, no, no, my dear Lord Griffith, you misunderstand!” she soothed, hastily coming toward him in a swirl of silk. “Do not trouble yourself, I pray you! It wasn’t my brothers who told me you’re going to Janpur. The security of your task has not been compromised, I swear.”
“Ah, that is a relief. Did it run in the newspapers, then?” he inquired sharply.
“Now, now, there’s no need to grow testy, my lord. Of course it wasn’t in the papers. I found out through a private letter from my friend Meena, who happens to be married to the Maharajah of Janpur.”
He eyed her in distrust. “Really.”
“Yes, really. We played together from the time we were children, along with Lakshmi, the girl from the fire.”
Ian clamped his jaw shut and scanned her face, trying to detect a lie, but she appeared to be speaking the truth.
“Meena—rather, Princess Meena now—is not just married to King Johar, but happens to be the royal favorite at the moment. She is the youngest and the fairest of all the maharajah’s thirty wives. Everyone says he dotes on her and calls her his pearl. Isn’t that sweet?”
Ian gave the chit a warning glower. “Go on.”
“When Meena wrote to me that my brothers would be coming to Janpur leading the military escort for a British diplomatic party soon to pay a call on her husband, I knew it had to be you she was referring to, since you had just written us that letter, telling us you were on your way. Honestly, it was a simple matter of putting two and two together. Don’t worry, I’m the only one who knows where you’re going, and I’m not going to tell anyone. I haven’t and I won’t. You can trust me,” she added a bit too earnestly.
“Hmm.” The single syllable rolled out of him like a low growl.
“Don’t you believe me?”
He flicked a wary glance over her, but did not answer, and then she scowled a bit.
“Meena has been wanting me to visit her at her new home ever since she got married. I’m afraid she’s rather unhappy there, as well she should be, with twenty-nine other wives in the palace jealous of her. I’m sure they make her life unpleasant.”
He snorted, rather pitying the maharajah. Thirty wives? The man must be insane.
“Meena knew my brothers’ presence at Janpur would be a lure I couldn’t resist. Poor thing, she’s lonely up there, so far from home.” She paused, looking troubled by her musings on her friend. Of course, Ian had already seen the lengths to which she was willing to go to save someone she cared about. Then Georgiana shrugged. “Meena thought it would be fun for me to surprise my brothers up at Janpur. If you don’t believe me, I can get the letter—”
“That won’t be necessary.” He paused and scratched his eyebrow once more, collecting his thoughts. “Miss Knight, I cannot adequately stress to you the importance of discretion in this matter. You must understand that many, many thousands of lives are at stake, including your brothers’—and mine. You must not discuss this with anyone, or you could jeopardize the entire mission. I’m here to secure the peace between ourselves and Janpur, and there are many powers in India who would like to see me fail.”
“I would never jeopardize the cause of peace, Lord Griffith. As I’ve already told you, I will not and haven’t told a soul.”
“Good. See that you don’t.”
Heavens, for a diplomat, the man was awfully rude! Georgie thought. Just then, the sound of a carriage rolling up outside drew their attention. She glanced out the window and saw that her footman had arrived with Lord Griffith’s servants and his luggage.
Brushing off her frustration, she turned back to her guest with her most winning smile. “Ah! Your things have arrived. Let me show you up to your room. Now that we’ve got all that sorted out, you might as well stay and make yourself comfortable—”
He interrupted her with exasperated laughter. “Your persistence is to be admired, my dear young lady, but I cannot possibly stay. It would be entirely improper, as you well know.”
“But Purnima’s here—”
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“Do you really think your ayah’s presence is enough to satisfy the local gossips?” he cut her off. “My dear, I do not ruin young ladies.”
“You’re not going to ruin me!” She scoffed. “Oh, why must we stand on ceremony? We’re practically family.”
“But we’re not,” he replied in a pointed murmur. “We are definitely…not.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the potent innuendo beneath the surface of his words. “Perhaps not,” she admitted, inching closer. “But, Lord Griffith…I trust you.” She lowered her head and peeked up at him from under her lashes. “Everyone knows you have the most sterling reputation.”
He snorted. “It’s your reputation I’m worried about.”
“Nobody has to know,” she coaxed him. “Besides, it’s only one night—and then we’re off for Janpur.”
“No!” He pulled away. “You are not coming with me, Georgiana!”
She lifted her eyebrows at his use of her first name; he even seemed to have startled himself with how easily it had rolled off his tongue. Well, maybe he didn’t have quite so much starch in his cravat as he pretended, she thought with a faint, mischievous smile.
“Pardon—Miss Knight,” he corrected himself in a clipped tone, reverting to formal mode once more. “The point is, this is no time for a social call. Besides, it’s much too dangerous. Speaking of which, will you please send for the constable now? They’re waiting for me at Government House, but I will stay with you until the constable sends men to guard the house in case that mob comes back. Frankly, I am shocked that your brothers would leave you here unprotected—”
“Oh, please. They would never do that.” Georgie raised her hands and loudly clapped twice.
At once, a dozen armed sepoys in turbans, red coats, black breeches, and riding boots came jogging into the entrance hall and halted in formation, swords gleaming. They dropped the butts of their bayoneted muskets to the floor with a loud bang in unison.
When their captain saluted her, she nodded to him, then glanced proudly at Lord Griffith and couldn’t help gloating a wee bit. “Aren’t they smart?”