“Then do it.” She swallowed against the knot in her throat, watching the subtle play of expressions cross his face, aware he struggled to maintain control. And how she wanted to get under his skin, goad him, provoke him until he relented, until she proved he wasn’t the stuffy English gentleman he purported to be. Prove that he wanted her, that she was worthy of his passion. “Touch me. Please.”
“Dammit,” he cursed. “I want you. I’ve dreamed of loosening your gown and watching it drop to the ground. Only you’re even more beautiful than in my dreams. I want to kiss every inch of your body.” He growled quietly. “I’m supposed to be tutoring you to dance, eat properly, play cards, make pleasant conversation, not seduce a man. For God’s sake, Georgia, you’ve driven me completely off track of what this arrangement is supposed to be, and yet, I can’t look away.”
“I know, but you won’t ruin me. I’ll still be a virgin, just a virgin with a little more knowledge. I want to understand. But more than that, I want to feel.” Her lips parted.
“I can’t seem to resist you, even though I know I should.” He stroked her jaw, then her collarbone, then moved his hand slowly, in miniscule amounts, to the swell of her breast. He cupped her. “But I’ll be gentle this time. I’ll go slow, like I should have done when I kissed you.”
A deep yearning coursed through her core, and she sucked in a breath.
He placed his hands on both her breasts and took a throbbing peak between his fingers. Darts of sensation flushed over her skin.
“How does this feel?” His voice was husky and nearly unrecognizable.
“Like I might tip over.” She grabbed a hold of his forearms. “I’m light-headed.”
Guiding her to the lounge chair, he said, “Sit down.”
With her back against the cushions, she tried to gain some focus. Her future didn’t have Will in it, but she would feel true desire for tonight. Her body felt out of sorts, completely on fire. “I want… I’m not sure, but I want you to keep touching me.”
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said.
“Please.” She let her back lean into the sofa and closed her eyes, only he didn’t kiss her mouth, like she expected.
He kissed her breast. Shivering in anticipation, she curled her fingers around his shoulders as he sucked her nipple. His tongue teased the tip, then he sucked more.
Her back arched, her eyes fluttered open, and she moaned.
He stopped and looked into her eyes. “Do you like that?”
“Y-yes.” She flushed with embarrassment. The moaning sound that had escaped her lips came from deep inside her. She hadn’t planned it, it just happened. Was this how it happened with all couples?
“What are you thinking?” Will asked quietly. “I know you’re thinking. Tell me.”
“I was just wondering if it’s always this way for people. This wanting… I want more. Whenever I’m with you, I seem to want more.”
He chuckled softly. “I’m not sure how it is for all people. I just know you are as curious as any woman I’ve known. And I haven’t been very good at telling you no. I’ve gone along with your antics. Leaving food on your face, besting me at cards, and now with kissing, too…”
“Kiss me some more.” She pulled on his jacket as if she’d done before.
This time he complied. He kissed her full on her mouth, and his hands touched her breasts. He gently pinched her nipples, and she couldn’t think, only wanted. His mouth moved from her lips to her neck and made a trail of kisses to her breast.
Her breathing turned to panting and even though she was sitting down, she felt dizzy. All she knew was the ache low in her abdomen and an acute sense of desire such that she couldn’t hope to articulate. “Touch me more, Will.”
One of his hands moved to the hem of her skirts. He lightly ran his fingertips from her ankles, to her knees, then to her inner thighs. The desire in her belly moved to her sex. In between her legs throbbed. She knew he was going to move his hands to her woman’s private flesh, and she wanted it with desperation and with urgency. A mewling sound escaped her throat.
She physically wanted to grab his wrist and move his hand faster, to relieve the pressure there.
A boom of thunder sounded in the distance.
Will bolted upright, leaving a cold rush of air where she’d been warm.
“No,” Will said and stood. “You’ve been entrusted to my care. This is wrong.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The dresses will be delivered tomorrow, then we’ll go to Lady Laurel’s party.”
He reached for the edges of her dress to cover her legs, then he pushed the fabric back over her shoulders. A light thrumming sounded as rain hit the windows of the drawing room. “Tie your bodice. I shouldn’t have done any of this.”
Georgia took advantage of his close proximity to grip his shoulders. “I wanted it. I want to know what to expect in my married life.” Hopefully the desperation in her voice would assuage any guilt he might be feeling. “Thank you.” She couldn’t imagine having this sense of longing and breathlessness with someone else.
Gently, he eased out of her grip and stood. “Nevertheless, this won’t happen again. Oliver should have never trusted me alone with you. Fortunately, our private lessons are finished. You’re ready for the party.”
“Please, Will. Don’t be angry.” Her quivering hands tied the laces of her bodice. “I’ve made you upset. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I lost control.” He swiped the back of his hand across his brow. “All me.”
“But I don’t want our lessons to be done.”
“I think it’s for the best, Georgia,” he ground out.
She only wanted to know what it felt like…to be wanted, to know what to expect. To be with Will—to know his touch. But she could see there was no reasoning with him right now. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He strode toward the door, stopped, and held on to the doorknob.
She was desperate for him to say something else, anything else.
“Until tomorrow,” was all he said, and he left.
Chapter Ten
As much as Georgia wanted to keep kissing Will and exploring and learning more, she had a job to do. She must acquire a husband. It was the only way for her to access her funds and live the life she truly wanted.
The life she had planned.
Unfortunately, being with Will was forcing her to rethink her original scheme. Maybe she shouldn’t consider someone old and feeble who wouldn’t live much longer. After having been with Will so intimately, she couldn’t imagine a life without the physical aspects of the marriage bed. But it was also hard to imagine experiencing those pleasures with anyone other than Will.
The carriage ride to the house party was quiet. Eloise sat beside her and Will across from her. For her first party, it worked perfectly that the soiree was at a neighboring estate, and they would return to Autumn Ridge later in the evening.
“The blue muslin is quite becoming on you,” Will said with a nod. “Mrs. Marchant did an excellent job.”
“I’m glad you approve.” The tone of his voice didn’t match the words—he offered his approval, and yet he sounded cross. Perhaps because the cut was lower than any of her other dresses and showed more cleavage.
Everything about him seemed different after their liaison in the drawing room. It was almost as if he was avoiding her. Today, he didn’t look at her the same way. He was distant, proper, as if they’d just met, instead of having shared intimacies. As if last night had never happened.
Yet, what had transpired between them had her utterly distracted. She’d slept little because her body hummed with the thrill of his touch. Subsequently, she began to consider what it would be like to share a bed with an older, unhealthy man, a part of her plan which had never before entered her mind. Now, with a very small taste of what wonders the marriage bed entailed, it was only logical that she should reconsider.
However, if she couldn�
�t have Will as a husband, did it matter who else it might be? His words about her being all wrong for him had cut, and they kept replaying in her mind. She supposed this was for the best, as he’d said, though—honestly, they didn’t suit. He’d never approve of her interest in racing, might even banish her from the stables and expect her to sit properly on a stiff damask sofa and do needlework or serve tea. If she were allowed to ride, it would likely only be in a habit, sitting sidesaddle on a docile mare.
They pulled up the graveled driveway of Lady Laurel’s home. Her husband had passed away many years prior, and now she ran their estate, which was exactly what Georgia wanted—she only had to find a way to attain it.
Will escorted her inside. There were so many men present—it was no secret that Lady Laurel had three daughters, two of marriageable age. The party was primarily for husband-hunting purposes, but the host also had to even out the numbers of men and women, so an invitation to her neighbor, the Earl of Marsdale, and his ward seemed appropriate.
The manor was beyond anything Georgia had ever seen. A house was an odd way of describing an estate with probably thirty rooms, fanciful turrets, and pillars standing at attention in grand fashion. Georgia was unsure of herself in a formal setting and held on to Will’s arm tighter than was necessary.
Her courage wavered as they entered the ballroom. The nearly setting, late-afternoon sun gave the room a reddish glow. Mirrors lined one wall, and she glanced at her reflection. Will wore a fitted waistcoat that hugged his broad shoulders, along with matching trousers. She looked every bit the young debutante, but in her heart, she knew she wasn’t anything like a citizen of England.
British gentlemen were interested in a proper English bride, not someone like her. All she ever had was the love of her horses, the occasional card game, and racing—she was alone in this world, and that wasn’t going to change, husband or no, fortune or no.
They were introduced to Lady Laurel and her daughters, then Will ushered her to the lemonade table and pointed out some of the people he knew. He put a glass in her hand and said, “You’re being awfully quiet.”
“It’s my first party, and as you’ve said, I have an American accent.”
“There’s no reason to hide it. Everyone in this community knows Oliver’s ward is from America. You can’t help where you’re from.”
“No, certainly not.” She lifted her chin, feeling that his remark was off-putting. “I’d go back there if I was allowed.” She stood straighter and scanned the room for older men. Small, velvet-covered benches lined one wall of the ballroom, and several couples sat together in quiet conversation. “It’s where I belong.”
“You’ve done well for yourself here. You’re getting along fine.” Will glanced around the crowded room, to the orchestra on an upper-floor balcony, then brought his gaze back to her. “You’ll be betrothed and married in no time. Soon, you’ll have a new home to call your own.”
“That is the desire of my cousin, is it not?” She stated it as a question, but there was no questioning a young woman’s place in this world. The only place was to be married.
“I’m here to help and assist in any way I can.”
“If I could have access to my funds now, without being married, I certainly would stay unmarried. Although, I admit…” Georgia realized too late that she’d let her thoughts slip into words.
He moved his mouth close to her ear. “You admit what?”
There was no sense in keeping her errant thoughts a secret, but a prickly, swirling feeling pooled in her belly just the same, especially as his warm breath caressed her neck. She shouldn’t look at him, but she did. “I admit, I am looking forward to some things once I’m married.”
He narrowed his eyes, his gaze so intense, her skin started to burn.
Will took a drink of lemonade before asking, “What are you looking forward to, Miss Duvall?”
“I think you know,” she murmured. His voice had sounded a bit harsh. And why had he reverted to calling her Miss Duvall? She leaned closer to him and whispered, “You gave me but a small taste of what happens in the marriage bed, my lord. But I want more. Does this surprise you?”
His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He cleared his throat. “Georgia, I think we’ve spoken enough on this topic. Continuing the discussion here isn’t proper.”
“If we’re going to be proper about things, then you shouldn’t call me Georgia in public.” She straightened, took a step back, and changed the subject. “I rather liked Lady Laurel’s oldest daughter, Penelope. I think I shall go and speak with her.” She started to take her leave, but she stopped and said over her shoulder, “Shouldn’t I be making myself more available for introductions to eligible bachelors? At the very least, fill my dance card.”
“Yes,” he said, “I’ll inquire for you and make arrangements.”
“Very well. I look forward to it. I shall return shortly.” With a swish of her skirts, she left him.
Playing this game with Will was dangerous. She wanted more touching and kissing from him, even if it was just for tutoring purposes. But what did she hope to gain by it? He would never consider her for his own bride. Although she needn’t know more about the physical intimacies between married couples and should save it for her future husband, her body craved it.
To cool her skin and free her thoughts, she wove through people in an effort to get outside for fresh air. Her feelings for Will would get her nowhere, and therefore she must refocus her efforts toward something else. She found a quiet corner on the balcony overlooking the gardens and breathed in the crisp night air.
…
Agitation filled every crevasse of Will’s being. He couldn’t stand next to Georgia without sniffing her hair, remembering her taste, and feeling her hand on his arm—making him hard. Mesmerized by the pleasure of her breasts filling his hands, he kept recalling the feel of her nipple in his mouth. He’d barely slept a wink last night for thinking about that damnable kiss and every detail thereafter of their brief liaison.
Her words, You can teach me. I know you can, replayed over and over in his mind, and he’d nearly let things get out of hand. If the thunderstorm hadn’t started when it did, who knows how far things would have gone. With the door locked and their privacy assured, he could have completely removed her stays and finished what he’d started.
But there was no future with Georgia. Tutoring her was a means to procuring a racehorse, nothing more. If he was to marry, he needed a woman with a high-ranking family to reestablish his stature in the ton, not an American who masqueraded as a jockey. If he married such a woman, especially if anyone found out she’d been dressed as a jockey, he’d be ridiculed. And that was only the beginning of her hijinks, he was sure. He would spend the remainder of his life vexed by her willfulness, yet understanding her need to live outside the strictures of English society, while he had to ensure acceptance into the ton for his progeny. Never would he allow his children to suffer in the way Arabella and he had.
Invitations to house parties in the country, and most especially in London, were what he required for his future. When bets were placed at White’s, he wanted to be a part of the wager, not looked down upon because of his father’s foolhardy schemes. With Will’s name now associated with Marsdale more than with his father, his prospects were better than they had been in years.
Finally, he had been welcomed back into the circles he’d longed to be part of. No one looked down upon his family anymore. Everyone at the party readily greeted him, which hadn’t been the case even last year. Marsdale had been the only friend who’d treated him with respect when Will had been at his lowest after his father died.
Barnabas Marshall, the Marquess of Hewett, approached him. “Grandleigh.” He nodded. “What brings you to Lady Laurel’s party? Are you interested in one of her daughters?”
“I’m here to introduce my brother-in-law’s ward to society,” Will said. “She’s the one who needs courting, not I.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve
heard he has an American ward under his roof. A niece?”
“A cousin.”
“Perhaps I should meet her?” Hewett stroked his chin. “I heard someone say she’s quite pretty.”
Will bristled at Hewett’s offhanded comment, but he pushed away the irritation. Hewett would never allow Georgia the freedoms she required, nor would he appreciate her quick wit and cleverness; he was completely wrong for her. A wife who sat prettily in the drawing room with embroidery in hand would be a proper wife for Hewett, not Georgia. “I’ll introduce you, but I doubt she’d interest you.”
“Whyever not? I require a wife and heirs. She would suit as well as any.”
“She’s an American. She requires… She’s rather unorthodox. She’s not schooled in our ways.”
“Why isn’t Marsdale here introducing her?” Hewett looked down the narrow hallway behind the dance floor and frowned.
“He’s occupied with my sister and the impending birth of their first child and tasked me with the job of introducing Miss Duvall to society.”
“I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.” Hewett glanced across the ballroom. “But where is she?”
Will surveyed the room and, more specifically, where most of the eligible young ladies stood near the floor-to-ceiling set of windows. Oliver had purposely kept the amount of Georgia’s dowry from the public, but what if someone had found out? She had no idea the number of penniless peers who would come sniffing around if they knew she had a hefty dowry. “She was speaking with Lady Penelope Danford, last I knew.”
“I see Lady Penelope right there.” Hewett gestured to the lemonade table. “I don’t see the American you speak of. What is she wearing? Perhaps I can help you find her?”
Will hated Hewett’s tone, as if he wasn’t capable of keeping track of one American woman at a house party.
Hewett tipped his head toward the gardens. “I say,” he said, “is that her on the balcony? In the blue gown?”
Will looked toward the doors leading outside to find Georgia surrounded by three men, who all appeared to be hanging on her every word. His heart galloped.
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