The Undoing of a Libertine
Page 5
“No!”
“Yes, he does. In fact, he appears quite eager to get you off his hands. I know I’m not mistaking his intent regarding you. I only wish your dear mother were here to see you become my bride.”
“Do not speak of her! Lord Pellton, if my mother were alive today, I would not be in the sorry position I am in at present. She would never make me marry against my will, no matter the circumstances.” Georgina sounded angry now.
“Circumstances. Yes, circumstances have a way of changing everything, don’t they? You look so like your mother, Georgina…” Pellton mumbled the rest inaudibly, but then the sharp sounds of rustling broke over the mumbles. The noise alerted Jeremy to peer out from behind the bookcase to see what offense Pellton was perpetrating now.
“Release me at once, sir,” Georgina demanded, pulling her hand back from where Pellton gripped it.
“Is there a problem?” Jeremy called loudly, stepping out into the middle of the room.
Both of them turned their heads to the sound of Jeremy’s voice at the same time. Jeremy couldn’t be sure if Georgina remembered he was in the room or not, but Pellton sure as hell was surprised to see him.
Jeremy pointed his gaze to where Pellton was clutching her. The weasel sneered at him. Georgina yanked her hand free with a jerk and glared at Pellton.
“Yes, I do have a problem. I suddenly feel like I might be sick! Excuse me.” She turned away and swept out of the room.
Jeremy cocked an eyebrow. “That was quite the feat, Pellton. You made Miss Russell sick.”
Pellton squinted his eyes and struck just like the viper he was. “Oh, bugger you, Greymont!” he spat and then walked out, leaving the library peacefully quiet once more.
Jeremy went to where Georgina had been sitting. Her book lay on the side table and was still open to the place she’d been reading.
He picked it up and read the page…
* * * *
It took a great deal to rile Jeremy, but it didn’t require much when Edgar Pellton was involved. The ridiculous toad irritated the hell out of him just by breathing. Mostly when he fawned after Georgina like he was doing right now! The scene was nearly an exact replay of yesterday in the library.
Pellton had Georgina trapped on a chaise, where she was attempting to read another book. Jeremy also saw how Georgina turned away from the oaf, affecting a cut, when he’d tried to engage her in what was no doubt, again, some topic inappropriate for polite conversation.
Good for her, Jeremy thought, when he saw Georgina cut Pellton. The line of her neck looked so fine turned in profile, away from her tormentor. But Jeremy wasn’t the only person who noticed. Mr. Russell had also been watching his daughter. And he took her to task for what he saw her do.
Mr. Russell asked to speak with her and then firmly backed her into a corner where he began to quietly chastise her for insulting a guest.
Jeremy saw how Georgina’s face grew stricken, how she crumbled under the displeasure of her father. After a few moments of this, she put a hand to her mouth and fled the room in tears. Mr. Russell looked about to have an apoplexy, before going to pour himself a double whiskey. Pellton looked rather pleased, a spiteful little smirk cracking out the seam of his serpent lips.
Jeremy couldn’t believe it. Her misery was apparent, as was Pellton’s debauchery. Why in the hell would any father push a daughter into marriage with such a beast? Pellton would mistreat her. Everyone must have heard the whisperings of his depraved leanings. Or maybe Mr. Russell did not know. Jeremy knew John Russell preferred the hunts and house parties of country life to the social doings of London. He guessed it was possible Georgina’s father did not know the reality of Pellton’s nasty predilections.
Jeremy gave his card game another five minutes before excusing himself. Ten more passed before he actually found her.
She sat in the solarium, on a bench amid the tropical green leaves of plants that could never survive the English climate if exposed to the natural elements. Her tears had stopped, but now she looked broken and defeated. Even in her misery, Georgina was beautiful to him. She wore a silvery blue dress tonight, the shine of the fabric glowing in the lamplight.
“Not enjoying the evening, Miss Georgina?” He spoke quietly so as not to startle her. “I saw you leave.” He came closer. “You appeared distressed.” He sat down next to her on the bench.
She kept silent at first. They just sat next to each other, contemplating in the quietness of the exotic plants that surrounded them, and their clean, earthy smell.
It seemed like an age before she spoke. “Wouldn’t you be?” Sad, hazel eyes lifted to glitter at him.
Jeremy tilted his head in question.
“If you were on display like a prized bird to be bagged by the best shot? In this case, the ‘best shot’ is repulsive to me. I hate it!”
“What do you hate more, the part about being on display or the quality of the candidate trying to ‘bag’ you?”
“There is only one candidate, and Papa does not care for my feelings against his suit.”
“Have you agreed to anything?”
“No, and I don’t plan on it either, but I am afraid Papa will find a way to force me.” Her composure crumbled then, and the tears came. “I can’t bear it if he gives me to Lord Pell—”
Jeremy didn’t hesitate to pull her into his arms. He held her close and felt the quivering coming from her body, right through their clothes, straight to his heart. God, she felt good. And in that instant he knew.
She feels right.
Everything about Georgina felt right. Jeremy wanted to breathe her in. He wanted to kiss and touch her all over. He wanted her naked underneath him and their skin hot and pressed together. He wanted her crying out his name when he made love to her. Yes, he wanted all of those things, but even more than that, he wanted to protect and reassure her. It stung his heart to see her so distraught.
“He won’t,” he murmured into her ear.
* * * *
Georgina stiffened. The shock of being in his embrace was the cause, but she gave in to it almost immediately, indulging in how wonderful a feeling it was to be held by Jeremy Greymont, to be safe and comforted, at least for this one moment in time.
She stayed in his arms and let him hold her. He smelled divine, slightly sweet like cloves and shaving soap, and she liked the way he rested his chin atop her head. His hand brushed up and down her back. His warmth radiated into her chest, and for the first time in years, she felt truly cherished by another person.
It took some moments before she realized exactly what they were doing, and the impropriety of it. She pulled back from him and felt the loss of his embrace immediately, the warmth and strength of him dissipating into the night air to combine with the exotic breath of the plants.
“Do you feel a little better? Please say that you do. I can’t bear seeing you so sad.” He fished out his handkerchief and brought it to her face. “Allow me?”
His kind gesture brought on fresh new tears that rolled down her cheeks in silent streams.
Without saying another word, he carefully dabbed the wetness away, first one cheek and then the other. When he finished, he pressed the handkerchief into her hands and his lips to her forehead. “There,” he whispered.
Mr. Greymont’s lips were soft, the brush of his whiskers less so, as they touched her skin. He gave her such a gentle, lovely kiss. Georgina wanted to dissolve in the solace of the moment. It is more than you deserve.
She shouldn’t allow him to even do it. ’Twould only make things harder to bear. Georgina tilted back and looked at him. Mr. Greymont’s eyes burned in return, a simmering hunger discernable even in the dim light of the solarium. They focused on her mouth.
An unsettling flare of heat hit her behind the ribs. She needed to go. His attentions were too much to take in right now. Mr. Greymont’s kindness was genuine, but she sensed he held back somehow. A whiff of danger permeated the moment. She had to get away. Now!
“Please forgive me, Mr. Greymont, for my outburst. I am much better though, thanks to you. I’ll not forget your kindness to me this night.” She stood up abruptly. “I must take my leave now.”
“Don’t go! Stay? Talk with me?” he blurted, grasping her hand.
“I must go, for I am suddenly very exhausted and not at all good company right now.” She looked down at his hand gripping hers. It felt hot.
“Yes, you are. Yours is the best company.” But even so, he released her, looking a little guilty as he stood up and bowed. “As you wish, Miss Georgina, but please agree to meet me tomorrow—at your oak tree swing, two o’clock? I want to talk to you again. Will you come?”
His gentle entreaty was impossible to resist, and she trusted him. Regardless of the tension between them right now, she knew she’d be safe in his company. “Very well.” She nodded. “Good night, Mr. Greymont.”
She walked out, leaving him there in the solarium, flexing the hand he’d gripped so tightly. It tingled in the same way her forehead did, in the place where his lips had kissed.
It wasn’t until she was in her bed that she remembered his words when he’d held her in his arms. Mr. Greymont had said, “He won’t,” in reference to her father forcing her to marry Lord Pellton. But how can he know?
Georgina pondered the mystery of Jeremy Greymont in her bed that night. Thinking about how easy it had been to be held close enough to scent him, to feel his hard muscles bracing her, to be stroked along her shoulders by his gentle hands.
Interestingly, his nearness didn’t frighten her at all. She felt just the opposite. Comfort, solace, and security were what he offered, along with something more enticing that she didn’t really understand, but drew her in all the same. In fact, she clung to that security without even knowledge that she was doing so.
Georgina still had his handkerchief, and it smelled of him—a faint hint of cloves and starch and his own crisp sharpness. The scent floated in her head until sleep claimed her. A last rambling thought swilled in her mind before fading away. What does he wish to talk about?
Chapter Seven
The reputation which the world bestows
is like the wind, that shifts now here now there
its name changed with the quarter whence it blows.
—Dante Alighieri, Divine Comedy (1308)
The swing had been a favorite of her mother’s. One of the earliest memories Georgina had was of being held in her mother’s lap upon this very swing.
This place was in fact, very special. Her family used to have picnics right here on this spot. Tom would climb the tree, and Papa would read poetry to Mamma. Mamma would braid wildflowers into Georgina’s hair and once wove a fairy crown to place upon her head. On that day, everyone had pledged their fealty at her coronation. All hail the Fairy Queen of Oakfield! Georgina couldn’t recall any other intimate family picnics after that one. It must have been the last.
She grasped the rope of the swing and gave it a push. She watched the plank seat twist and rotate until it stilled and had to be flicked again.
They were lovely memories, but from a long time ago. Another time. Another life. Everything was so different now. So very different. And a stroll down the bucolic memory lane of her childhood didn’t serve much use in the realm of the harsh reality that was her life now, did it?
Georgina arrived at the oak tree early today. She found it a good place to think. And she intended to be composed this time, too, unlike every other time she was in Mr. Greymont’s company.
He was an intriguing man, and there was a quality to him that soothed her. He was easy to be with. Last night, when he’d comforted her, she’d felt like she could stay in his arms forever. The notion surprised her, but when she thought back on it, she realized that his physical presence was never unwelcome.
She reacted to Mr. Greymont in a way she had never done for anyone else. But then, the way he’d looked at her in the solarium, after he’d kissed her and wiped away her tears, she’d seen a hunger in him, clear as day, and that had rattled her.
She had admired him for years—as the charming friend of her older brother. He had been friendly and complimentary to her as a young girl, taking notice of her accomplishments in a polite, but proper manner.
That was then. Now he looked at her a little differently. His propriety was never in question, but he didn’t look at her like she was a young girl anymore. He looked at her as a man did at a woman. Somehow, the thought of him looking at her like that did not anger her as it should. In fact, everything about Jeremy Greymont, and her reaction to him, felt different—
“There you are!” Clawlike hands and hot breath assaulted her from behind. “I’ve been searching for you again.” He turned her.
“Lord Pellton! Unhand me, sir!” She struggled to free herself from his groping and pawing.
“You tempt me mercilessly, my little rosebud,” he slurred in her ear. His grip held strength despite his years, and he easily pushed her up against the trunk of the tree.
Georgina felt the rough bark dig in to her back and then panic upon realizing he’d trapped her. Pellton had her pinned between his bulk and the great tree. Her struggles to get away from him only served to press her body deeper into his—the very last thing she wanted. Oh, dear God! In horror, she watched as he lowered his head to bury his face into the décolletage of her gown, his movements frantic as he began his assault.
“I have tired of waiting on your resistance, my dear,” he said, slathering his mouth over her skin. “There’s no point to it you know. You will belong to me and need to learn your role. A little taste of what will soon be mine won’t hurt. It shall help to speed things along.” He huffed the words at her chest.
“No! Sir, please let me go. Stop! This is unseemly! Noooo!” She thrashed her head back and forth in an effort to dislodge him.
“Fighting me will only make you taste sweeter,” he crooned evilly, one hand covering a breast and squeezing. “You are a wildcat, my pretty.”
His words, the smell of him, the weight of his body pressing against her, sparked absolute terror in her brain. She remembered words that had been told to her before. I am going to fuck you now, my wildcat. Keep fighting. That’s it. Fight me while I fuck you…
Georgina no longer knew who or what attacked her. She just knew she must fight to get away. Fight or die.
She fought, kicking and scratching and clawing and hitting with all of her strength, thinking the whole time that it couldn’t possibly be happening to her again.
“Get away from her, you bastard!” Jeremy Greymont’s words met their mark with deadly intent. The sound of him alone got Pellton’s attention, but the shotgun bearing down on her tormentor added the extra incentive to follow the command.
Pellton froze against her as she panted against the tree, her face turned as far away as possible, his breath making her want to vomit.
“But she is my betrothed, Greymont.” He slowly turned to face Jeremy, his eyes wide. “I am entitled to her. And how dare you threaten me with a gun!”
“I dare.” Jeremy held his gun steady. “Miss Georgina, have you agreed to marriage with this ape?”
“I have not!”
“Are his attentions welcome to you?”
“By God, no!” She bolted away from the tree to stand behind Jeremy.
“Then be on your way, Pellton. You cannot be assaulting maidens. It is loutish for a gentleman, let alone one who calls himself ‘Lord.’ But then, you’ve never been bothered by the constraints of propriety.”
Pellton flushed red, an ugly scratch welting along his cheek and jaw. “Maiden, you say? Hardly a maiden!”
Oh, please…nooooo! Georgina found herself dropped to the ground, wishing the earth would open and swallow her whole right in this minute, terrified to hear the exchange between the men. Lord Pellton must have heard gossip about her from somebody. Her mind scrambled as she fought for understanding of why he would say such about her. He knows! Somehow, he knows.
“You’ll be sorry for this, Greymont!” Pellton sputtered, his voice shrill.
“No, I won’t.” Jeremy threw back his head and kept the gun trained on Pellton. “I am sick of watching you leer at her over dinner. And now this? It’s enough to make me puke!”
“Whyever for, Greymont? She’s got your prick twitching as well. I can see it in your eyes! You can think of nothing but how badly you want to fuck—”
Jeremy silenced the foul words with the gun barrel pressed an inch from Pellton’s nose.
“Time to go, Pellton. Not another word out of you. I don’t know how much longer I can hold my finger still. I’m feeling a bit tense at the moment. Hunting accidents are an all-too-frequent occurrence these days, what with firearms being so unpredictable.”
Pellton breathed hard at Jeremy from behind the barrel of the shotgun, his eyes bulging.
“This gun might jam though. I had some trouble with it last week. You could always take your chances and keep flapping your mouth, Pellton,” Jeremy taunted. “Or not. Either way, you’re buggered, my lord!”
Georgina sobbed from a heap on the grass, praying Lord Pellton would just go and for the torment to cease. She didn’t look up, and she couldn’t bear to see what was happening between the two men.
Lord Pellton must have taken Jeremy’s threat to heart because he never said another word.
* * * *
Jeremy tracked Pellton’s departure, never taking his eyes away as he watched the letch slink off. It gave him a moment to will his racing heart to slow its thundering inside his chest. He heard the hysterical sobbing of Georgina on the ground at his feet, the sound slicing his heart like a dagger.