by Raine Miller
“Why Herrick, Jeremy?”
“Well, for one, I think you like his poems, and I feel I should make an effort to share in something of interest to you. It seems like the husbandly thing to do. I don’t know, am I wrong? Is that not what a husband does to be agreeable? I have no experience.” He smirked in his charming way that made her heart catch.
“For myself, I know I’d find it agreeable if my husband read poems to me.” A sudden vision of her father reading to her mother flashed in her head. “My parents used to. You said ‘for one reason,’ Jeremy. What’s the other reason?”
“I think Herrick’s prose is good. I liked what I read before.”
“When did you read him?”
“The day I came upon you in the library. I picked up your book after you left it behind when Pellton drove you out.”
“You did?”
He nodded once. “I brought it to my room and read some pages that night. I put it back the next morning where you could find it.”
“I hope you’ll read to me sometime. I like listening to your voice.”
He chuckled. “Well, we have that in common then, for your voice hypnotizes me.”
A powerful yawn consumed her. She covered her mouth and mumbled, “Pardon me. I suppose it has been a long day.”
“You are tired, sweetheart.”
“I fear you are right,” she answered, stifling another yawn.
“Time for bed then. We have another long day ahead tomorrow.” He led her over to the bed and pulled back the covers. “In you go,” he said easily.
Georgina took a deep breath and unbelted her gown for the second time tonight. Strangely she didn’t feel worried for him to see her in nothing but a shift. She was pragmatic enough to understand he’d being seeing any part of her he liked after tomorrow, so what did it matter tonight? But he didn’t even look at her. While she was settling under the covers, he’d already turned away. He went around the room putting out the lamps instead.
Jeremy extinguished all of the lamps save for the one by the bed. Then he removed his boots. He stretched out next to her on the bed, but stayed on top of the covers.
“May I read you one poem? It is not long,” he asked hopefully.
“Yes, Jeremy, please.”
Georgina turned to face him on her side. Jeremy did the same.
Studying his hands as he held the book, Georgina thought his long fingers splendid of form. She thought about those hands and fingers of his touching her skin in intimate places. Tomorrow he will touch me with those hands.
Jeremy began to read. The sound of him travelled the distance between their bodies, his rich voice speaking the prose with artful flow…
Delight in Disorder.
A Sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A Lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction:
An erring Lace which here and there
Enthralls the Crimson Stomacher:
A Cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbons to flow confusedly:
A winning wave (deserving Note)
In the tempestuous petticoat:
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me than when Art
Is too precise in every part.
Robert Herrick, Hesperides, 1648
Jeremy lifted his eyes from the page over to her face. “I even understand it,” he said. “Fancy that.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, he means that he finds greater beauty in a woman when she is in gentle disarray, rather than having her dressed in perfect, ordered arrangement.”
“Do you agree with him?”
“Yes…I’d say that I do.” He touched a finger to her cheekbone. “It reminds me of you.”
Georgina didn’t say anything. She just looked into his deep blue eyes. She couldn’t. There were no words she could form that would prove adequate for all he’d done since coming to her room tonight. All he’d ever done.
“That first time…when we met in the rain. The night in the library when you came at midnight, wearing your hair down. Right now, in this bed, lying next to me.” He caressed with his finger. “You are never more beautiful to me than when you are like this. As you are right now.”
Georgina leaned in to kiss him, feeling it was the most natural response she could give and knowing there was nothing—no words at least—that she could say after such a beautiful declaration. Instead, she drew as close as possible with the blankets still between them and brought her lips to his. He kissed her back, sweetly and soft.
He stayed next to her in the bed, never pressing for more than a kiss or a chaste caress. Jeremy’s gentle, slow kisses and trailing fingers drawn through her hair filled the minutes. She could tell how much he liked touching her hair, and thought it felt wonderful to have him do it.
So they spent their first night together in this way. She floated off to sleep eventually, comforted by his presence and hoping he drew comfort from her. Georgina couldn’t help thinking about what tomorrow would bring, as well as the future with this man who’d come for her just this morning. The person who would guide her life from this point on. The father of her children. The man who said he wanted her and did not care about her past.
She never felt Jeremy leave her bed. When she woke early the next morning, he had already gone. Georgina could still feel his presence clearly though. The lingering trace of spice from his scent was all over her.
Chapter Fourteen
That sweet bondage which is freedom’s self.
—Percy Bysshe Shelley, Queen Mab (1813)
Myers brushed imaginary lint off Jeremy’s jacket while he stood at the mirror remembering the night before. He thought about how Georgina accepted him into her room last night. Trusting him. He’d felt wretched when she’d misunderstood his reasons for coming. Even in her distress, she would’ve let him take her to bed and have his way. As much as he looked forward to bedding her, Jeremy was determined not to foul up the start of his marriage. He prayed to God for mercy in letting him please just do this one thing without gross misstep. He’d get her signature on the wedding certificate first as was right and proper. Georgina deserved as much, and Jeremy was determined she would have it.
She couldn’t know the real reason he’d gone to her room and stayed the night. And he didn’t plan on telling her the “why” of it either. After learning Pellton’s true motivation for marrying Georgina, Jeremy couldn’t get to her fast enough. He’d never known such fear or the need to protect so fiercely. He hadn’t thought too much beyond getting her out of Oakfield and under his protection. It had taken all his strength to wait the few hours needed to procure the special license to wed, dashing off several letters of instruction in the process. The moment the marriage document was in his hand, he’d steered Samson in her direction, and by God if the lovable beast hadn’t sensed his urgency, delivering Jeremy to Georgina’s doorstep in record time. Myers didn’t even arrive at Oakfield until well after dark in the coach. Jeremy believed luck must be courting him because so far all things had neatly fallen into place. He was dressed for his wedding, had won the pledge of his bride, and had a coach to take her away in.
Last night he couldn’t have stayed away from her for any price. And if he’d been forced to, he would have remained awake all night outside her door to ensure no one came to try to take her from him or hurt her. Jeremy did not trust Pellton, not one iota, and as for the nephew, he couldn’t even bear to think on him for even a moment without feeling bile rise up his throat.
But last night… What a treasure. A gift he’d remember until his dying day. Jeremy would never forget how she looked when she opened her robe. Her body was like a dream—a very erotic sexual dream. Long legs, curved hips, and full breasts he couldn’t wait to sample. It had taken all his strength to cover up that luscious body. But even more than her physical attraction, he’d not forget
how wonderful it had felt to sleep beside her, to watch over her while she slept, knowing she was safe and that she’d belong to him always. Early this morning, he’d reluctantly left her bed before the servants rose for the day. The sight of her sleeping form etched in his mind still caused his stomach to flip a little.
“You’ll do quite well, sir.” Myers stepped back to affirm his handiwork. The dark blue of the new jacket contrasted with a gold and blue waistcoat nicely, complementing his own coloring even in Jeremy’s opinion. “You do a credit to your lady. In such a suit, you look very fine.”
Jeremy looked sharply at his valet. “And the man under the clothes? Do you think he will do credit to the lady, Myers?”
Myers lifted wary eyes to meet his master’s. “Without a doubt, sir.”
“Do you speak truth to me?” Jeremy shocked himself by asking such questions. Opinions of paid servants did not factor into the equation. He should not care what others thought of him.
“Always, sir. You do right by those under your care, and I have no doubts you’ll do the same for your lady,” Myers said in his unperturbed way, reaching forward to straighten the hem of the jacket that sat perfectly level already.
The man must be in disbelief at his master’s foray into the seas of matrimony. Jeremy was as well. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else though. He was marrying Georgina, and that was that. In the next hour, he would gain a wife and become a husband.
“I’m glad you’re confident,” he returned wryly. “Say, have you seen my bride this morning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How did she look to you?”
Myers actually cracked what appeared to be a smile. The man hardly ever showed emotion. He’d been with Jeremy since he’d finished university. A former medic in the British Army, his more mature steadiness ever in effect, he rose to any occasion with a minimum of fuss, but was clearly enjoying the show today.
“She looked elegant and very beautiful on her father’s arm. You are to be congratulated, sir.”
“No, I meant how did she seem? I know very well of her beauty,” Jeremy barked back, frustrated.
“Seem, sir?” Myers arched an errant brow, obviously savoring the moment.
“Her countenance, you devil!” Jeremy exploded, feeling like a schoolboy on Saint Valentine’s Day. “Damn it all to hell, never mind!”
“Miss Russell appeared to me as the epitome of grace—”
“I said, never mind.” Jeremy cut him off with a wave of his hand. “And just in case you’ve forgot, wear a thick coat, Myers, for you’re riding in the open up with Ned. The interior of my coach will be for Mrs. Greymont and me alone,” he said imperiously.
“Yes, sir.” Myers bowed his head.
“Well, let’s go get me wed then. You’ll stand for me, as witness?” Jeremy gentled his tone in asking the question.
Myers’s face brightened for just a second before returning to his typical mask. “It will be my honor, Mr. Greymont.”
In the end, Myers was correct. Georgina presented herself a resplendent bride, solemn but steady, and so very beautiful. Her eyes found his the second he entered the room. She gave him a gentle smile, soothing his anxiety away in an instant. He winked at her.
The Reverend Goode read the words that bound them together until death as he married them in the formal parlor at Oakfield. Mrs. Goode played the music on the piano. The vows Jeremy spoke felt like the first “true” oath he had ever pledged in the whole of his life. He suspected it was Georgina who made that difference.
In her mother’s wedding dress of creamy, blush, silk brocade, she looked a vision, nearly bringing Mr. Russell to tears, so great was her likeness to his dearly departed wife, he had declared.
Attempting to make amends to his daughter, John Russell praised Georgina’s beauty and gifted her with her mother’s pearls. His gestures were too little, too late for Georgina though. Jeremy could see that the father had lost the daughter when he was worried more for their good name than her torment.
Georgina’s dowry was generous, although Jeremy cared little about the price they settled, his aim only to insure that his wife would never again be at the mercy of someone who did not cherish her as they should. He could admit there was some pleasure in bleeding her father for additional funds. If he was good at one thing, it was negotiation in business, and in this instance his persistence proved fruitful.
Before their departure, Jeremy took the additional opportunity to speak to Mr. Russell alone, informing him of what he’d learned in London about Pellton’s evil intent and his belief that he was connected by blood and knowledge with Georgina’s attacker. He did not spare him any of the gruesome details and was not a little satisfied to see how John Russell blanched in horror to know he would have given his daughter to such an animal and for what purpose.
So, with much relief, Jeremy got his new wife off in the coach. She shared in the relief as well. She didn’t say so, but he could tell.
Georgina seemed more than ready to leave her old home and set out for her new one, in Somerset, at Hallborough, with him.
* * * *
He knew about Georgina the whole time. He endorsed it. Would have abused her. My child. Anne’s own daughter!
John Russell felt his blood run cold as he recalled something his wife had once said. “I’ve never cared for the way Edgar Pellton looks at me, John. There’s something unnatural in that head of his. His poor wife, how can she bear him?”
John had soothed his wife with kisses and said it was because she was so beautiful that Pellton couldn’t help but be stunned by her. What man wouldn’t want her? She was the fairest prize of the county, and Pellton was no doubt a bit jealous of John’s great fortune in winning her.
John Russell remembered something else, too. Pellton had coveted his Anne. He’d wanted to marry her. Once in their university days, when deep in their cups, Pellton had let slip that he intended to call Anne Wellesley his wife one day. When Pellton left on his tour of Europe for a year and a half, John stayed in England. He courted and fell in love with the lovely Anne Wellesley during the time that Pellton was away.
Luck favored John then. He won the hand of the most wonderful woman in the world. His beloved Anne. Pellton had joked good-naturedly over the years that his friend had stolen the girl of his dreams right from under his nose.
Anne Russell was a superior woman—one that did not suffer fools lightly. She knew what stuff Pellton was made of then and no doubt would have known now.
John felt ill enough to lose the sumptuous wedding breakfast they’d all just enjoyed. How could he have been so stupid? So blind? Betrayal was such an ugly thing. Especially when it came at the hands of a trusted friend. Realizing he had erred in every way he could have done with Georgina, John knew the most profound shame for his actions as he stood there watching his little girl leave her home, and him, for good.
Anne, I’m sorry. Please forgive me the folly of shame when it should have been justice for our daughter.
John Russell clutched at his chest and peered down the drive. His son-in-law’s coach was very small in his sights as it carried their daughter away with him. Thank God for Greymont! And John meant that down to his marrow. He would not forget to offer special thanks for that young man when he prayed tonight.
It was funny how one’s opinion of a person could alter on a turn. John had never been too impressed with Greymont in the past. The boy came off rather coarse and arrogant in John’s opinion. A tad too libertine for his liking, but he had to admit, his new son-in-law did seem very devoted to Georgina and unconcerned with her past despite full disclosure of what had happened to her. Tom had vouched for Greymont’s worthiness when he had enticed him to visit in September. His son maintained there was no one more honest or loyal, and Tom’s word was good enough for John.
The father drew comfort in the belief that Jeremy Greymont would treat his daughter well and keep her safe. He’d give Georgina everything she deserved, affection, child
ren, and security. Anne would have approved.
Today Georgina looked so like Anne in that dress. But her farewell to him had been stiff and awkward. She’d offered him an empty embrace, lacking any warmth of feeling, and she had not been able to look at him. John had seen her turn back for one last glance at the house though, probably vowing never to return. His little girl had nothing but contempt for her father now. And rightly so. He deserved every bit of it and more.
John endured a new wave of nausea and shut his eyes tight. Pellton wanted with Georgina what he’d not been able to have with Anne. She was the spitting image of her mother! Anne was spot-on then, and her opinion held just as true this day as on the day she’d made it. “There’s something unnatural in that head of his.”
Friend no more. Lord Edgar Pellton had just gained an enemy. An enemy with vengeance surging through his veins. John Russell made a vow, right there on the steps of Oakfield. He would make this right, for Georgina and for Anne, who wouldn’t expect anything less from him where their children were concerned.
Straightening his coat, John Russell gave a small nod directed at the sky and went inside his home. He had much to do. First he would write to his son and call him home. Tom could help in this and would want to avenge his sister. He should also arrange a meeting with his solicitors to assure his affairs were in proper order just in case.
And then?
Well, he’d do the only thing he could do. He’d serve a heaping dish of cold revenge to the one who’d bloody well earned it.
Chapter Fifteen
Our doubt is our passion and our passion is our task.
—Henry James, “The Middle Years” (1893)
The rolling landscape slowly changed from fields stippled with forest to windswept coastline the closer they moved toward the sea.
The Bristol Channel spanned just thirteen miles of open water from the Somerset coast to Wales—a bordered natural bay extending from the mouth of the great Severn River. The area bustled with laden ships setting into coastal ports, some legitimate, and others much less so, fishing cutters and passage out of England.