by Dayna Quince
“Yes. It might help you understand me.”
“Does it have to do with your father?”
“In a way.”
He nodded once, his expression softening. Would he truly listen?
“I once saw a man in the village hit his wife.” The words tumbled out of her, the memory so clear. Her stomach cramped and she could taste the dust in her mouth as she had that day.
He jerked. “I’m sorry. That must have been terrifying.”
“It was, but more so, I was astounded that all the people who saw did nothing. I was just a girl, thirteen, and this poor woman was so alone, on her knees in the dirt. I ran to her and put my arm around her.”
He tensed. “What happened?”
“Her husband, Mr. Gabe, started yelling at me.”
“Where were your parents?”
“My father was nearby selling our wool harvest, and he tried to pull me away, apologizing to Mr. Gabe. I was so scared and infuriated. On the way back, he lectured me about interfering in people’s business and knowing my place. I didn’t know what was happening, and maybe she tripped, maybe she…provoked him—can you believe that?”
He sighed. “I’m afraid I can. ’Tis the dark side of our time. Women are not given the respect they deserve and are treated as their husband’s property.”
“I never looked at my father the same way again, or any man I saw there that day. Cowards, the lot of them. A dog has more honor. Sometimes I think…I don’t like people. We aren’t good.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder and all her roiling emotions calmed. “You’re good. And you’re brave. You came to that woman’s aide.”
“But I didn’t help her. Father never let me go with him after that, until he was gone and I had to go. But no one looked the same. I will never know if she is all right.”
“Sometimes in life we can only hope things are better for other people.”
She faced him. “I can’t just hope. I have to do something. If I see something wrong, or an injured animal or person, I will do something.”
He brought his hands to her face. “You are a special person, Miss Georgette.”
She couldn’t move. His bare hands radiated a sweet warmth, and nerve endings sang to move closer, to step into him. His gaze dropped to her lips and her heart burst into a gallop.
Was this it? Would this be her first kiss?
He cleared his throat and stepped back. “So, your father, what did he do?”
She bit her lip, disappointment flooding her. “He did nothing. He does nothing. He makes wild decisions but thankfully never follows through. I don’t know what he does when he’s away, but he certainly hasn’t brought any men home, until Mr. Hart.”
He raised his brows. “Mr. Hart, the professor at this party?”
“Yes, my father lied to him, promising an opportunity to teach at a school that doesn’t exist. Very much in the same way Roderick lied to get you here.”
He tugged on his coat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Indeed. We should head back to the others.”
She nodded. He was tense again, and her nerves were stretched thin. Whatever had just happened, he’d pulled back. Was it all in her mind? Had he any intention to kiss her at all?
He offered his arm and they strolled back toward the terrace, where the others were gathering to go inside.
Jeanette came to her side. “Sister, a word?”
Mr. Cage stepped away to give them privacy. Georgie prayed that tense moment between them wouldn’t frighten him away. She wanted to return to how they were before, teasing, laughing.
“What is it?”
“I’ve been speaking to Lord Luckfeld and the opportunity arose to have a game of billiards. A secret game.”
Georgie pinned Jeanie with a stare. “Are you certain this is a good idea?”
Jeanie’s smile slipped away. “You don’t think it is?”
“Things done in secret are often things that shouldn’t be done.”
“Bernie will be there, but not Chester because he’s too much of a prude, Bernie says.”
Georgie shook her head. “That doesn’t make it better. Bernie has wild ideas at times. Why a secret game?”
“It’s exciting,” Jeanie returned. “No chaperones.”
“Except each other,” Georgie clarified.
“This will be fun. Lord Luckfeld said he would show me a trick shot, whatever that is.”
“You don’t like billiards.”
“But I want to play. I want to impress him, Georgie.”
“Do you like him?” Georgie asked in a whisper.
“He’s so sophisticated and worldly, I do and I want to get to know him more. Please. When will we ever have a chance to do this again?”
Drat it, she was right. Opportunities were slim for them. Jeanie would be better off with Georgie there to keep an eye on things. “Very well.”
Jeanie squeezed her arm. “Thank you!”
“But tell Lord Luckfeld to include Mr. Cage.”
Jeanie nodded and slipped away.
Secrets were afoot. Georgie was sure it wasn’t a good idea, but it would give her another chance to be with Mr. Cage and that was all she wanted.
Chapter 7
Gavin didn’t have to wait long for the ladies to arrive. Luckfeld nudged him with his elbow and Gavin scowled.
This wasn’t a good idea, three innocents and four gentlemen infinitely more experienced in matters between men and women.
This was Luckfeld’s idea, but Gavin had to wonder what his aim was. Selhorst and Seyburn were also present, but somewhat surprised by the arrival of the sisters. Did they even know? Luckfeld had told him earlier. Georgette entered, chewing her raspberry-plump bottom lip and hesitantly meeting his gaze. This afternoon had been strange. His pulse increased at the sight of her.
He’d almost kissed her, dammit. Did she not realize the danger she was in? Sure, they weren’t alone but still. This situation was exactly how a rake makes a move and Gavin didn’t like it. They were betraying the trust of the duchess by doing this, not precisely luring but encouraging these women to step out of their safe zone and into the shrouded shadows of the billiard room with them.
It was up to him to keep things above brow, a role he’d never had to play before. He’d built his life around not becoming attached to anyone, not even his own parents, and yet a part of him was protective of Georgette and therefore her sisters. They were at such a disadvantage, and he, though not averse to using his skills to his advantage as a rake, would not allow any of them to fall prey to men like him.
He nodded in greeting and Georgie came to his side, rubbing her arms and clearly nervous.
“Do you play billiards?”
“Only once. Roderick showed us years ago. I never had much interest.”
They turned in unison toward Luckfeld, ever the showman, as he was making a grand demonstration of his skill.
“I’m surprised you agreed to this, then.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want Jeanie to be alone.”
“You look out for all your sisters?”
“We look out for each other.”
The low lantern light bathed her skin in a yellow glow, her lips appearing rouged. Instinctually he knew she would never do such a thing. She did not pretend, not like him, not like Luckfeld and the other men present.
She wore no mask.
She was genuine.
“I think I should apologize for this afternoon,” she said.
“It’s not necessary.”
“I insulted you, comparing you to men I don’t think very highly of.”
“One of them being your father.”
She nodded. “I don’t trust easily.”
“You can trust me,” he said, the words thrusting out like a startled bird from the brush. Where had that come from? He was barely restraining himself around her. He’d almost bloody kissed her, and he’d already told her he had no intention to ever marry. She shouldn’t be near him n
ow, with her inky black curls falling over one shoulder, the shadows of her lashes lacing her cheeks. She made him feel things so intoxicating he didn’t know if he could stop himself if they were alone, if he could rein in his urges if she welcomed his advances.
One side of her mouth curled up. “Because we’re friends?”
“Yes.” Though he didn’t feel like her friend; he felt like an enemy playing a deep game. She didn’t know what she did to him, and he wasn’t inclined to tell her. He may frighten her and then she’d turn away from him.
He swallowed.
They turned their attention back to the game, and Gavin stood in the shadows as the women took turns practicing shots. Miss Bernadette had some skill but Georgette and Jeanette very little. They played a game, Seyburn and Georgie against Luckfeld and Jeanette.
It all went on rather innocently to Gavin’s mind. Certainly nothing like the billiard games at the Shiny Pearl where the women lounged on the billiard table half nude.
Georgette turned and grinned at him after her ball fell into the pocket. “Will you play with me next?”
He nodded, imagining her dressed in a revealing silk gown, hair flowing down her back, the shoulder falling down to reveal her creamy skin.
He nearly groaned. She undid him with no effort at all.
He poured himself a glass of brandy and gulped it down. He set the glass down, missing the drink cart and the glass fell to the padded carpet. He cursed and bent to pick it up, smacking his hand on the corner of the cart, right on the knuckle.
She turned, seeing his clumsiness, but at that moment, Jeanette made a brilliant shot and the others cheered. Georgie came to his side.
“Are you hurt?”
“No,” he grumbled, holding his throbbing hand.
“Let me see.”
“It’s nothing, just a bruise.”
“Like your eye?”
“It doesn’t even hurt.”
She picked up his hand and he winced.
She raised a brow at him and then inspected his finger, wiggling it. Neither of them wore gloves and the warmth of her skin transferred to his.
“This light is terrible but it’s not broken. Your knuckle will be bruised. You poor thing, you’ve had quite the time at this party,” she teased him.
But he didn’t smile in return, not when she stood so close to him, not when she tenderly held his hand in both of hers.
She kissed his knuckle, a barely there brush of her lips, innocent, warm, plush, and he thought his knees might buckle. Heat speared to his groin. She peered up at him and stilled. Whatever she saw in his face, it froze her.
Seconds ticked by. The room slipped away and they were alone in the shadows, her skin on his, her rapid breaths fanning the fine hairs on the back of his hand.
His only thought was to sweep her into his arms and claim her mouth, showing her exactly what she did to him.
A shadow filled the doorway and Gavin stepped back, pulling his hand from her grasp. She turned, and they stood against the wall, a respectable distance between them as Roderick took in the scene. Gavin said nothing and neither did Georgette as Roderick disbanded their little party and the women left the men to their own devices.
Selhorst slumped against the wall. “Luckfeld, next time you want to show off don’t include me.”
Seyburn nodded. “This could have been bad. My mother adores the dowager duchess. One word and I would have to marry one of these girls.”
Luckfeld shrugged. “Don’t be absurd. There were three of them present. Nothing untoward occurred, did it?”
Gavin could still feel Georgette’s lips on his hand.
“I just gave them a little excitement,” Luckfeld continued.
“How gracious of you,” Selhorst retorted. “Next time don’t include me.”
“Or me,” Seyburn muttered.
The three men turned to Gavin.
“Always include me,” Gavin said.
Luckfeld laughed, “I can always trust Cage to be up to a bit of sporting fun.”
“I’m only here to make sure you don’t get up to a bit of sporting fun. These are not women to trifle with.”
“Are you certain? You spent a bit of time in that dark corner with Miss Georgette,” Luckfeld accused.
“We’re friends, nothing more. We have an understanding of each other.”
“Do you? Does she know about Lady Henrietta? She might get jealous,” he said and winked.
Gavin clenched his fists. Luckfeld better not spread around his opinion about Georgette’s rumored preferences, not without proof. Gavin still wasn’t sure himself, not after that kiss. It could all be one-sided, the influence of his own desire for her. “There is no need to discuss Lady Henrietta.”
“But you’re practically engaged—”
“No. I’m not,” Gavin growled.
Luckfeld smirked. “So says every man before they marry.”
Gavin pushed away from the wall and brushed past Luckfeld. “Mind yourself. I’m going to bed.”
Gavin ignored the chuckles that followed him from the billiard room. He turned toward the bachelor wing, but something nagged at him.
That moment when their gazes locked, the tension between them coiled tight and ready to snap. He couldn’t endure it anymore. He had to know what it meant. But not tonight. He couldn’t risk going to her room, searching dark halls for her.
Tomorrow. She went to the stables every morning. They would ride again and far from the other guests, from anything that might embarrass her. He’d ask her for the truth.
Chapter 8
The next morning Georgie tended her animals and waited for him to arrive, her stomach in knots after last night. She could still feel the warmth of his hand in hers. Falling to sleep had been difficult. She’d replayed the moment in her mind, fantasizing about what might have happened had Roderick not arrived or if they had been alone—especially if they had been alone, and her imagination was vivid. There was something between them, growing more obvious by the day.
She hated inaction.
She had to know what this was, if he would act on it or push her away. She knew the stakes. He’d been clear about marriage, and she was still of the same opinion. She would not make anyone a suitable wife, but that didn’t mean she had to go through spinsterhood untouched.
If she was going to spend the rest of her life alone, shouldn’t she know exactly what she was missing? Shouldn’t she have the option, as men did, to explore her own desires?
He’d told her about Lady Vivian and her lovers.
The idea intrigued her.
What if, like Lady Vivian, she pursued her own lovers? Or rather, lover. There was only one man she imagined when she pictured herself exploring the intimacies between a man and a woman. They couldn’t marry, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t explore their mutual desires.
More than kissing.
A kiss would never be enough.
She wasn’t sure what that entailed, but she learned quickly, and an experienced rake like him would know how to show her.
She was a naturalist at heart with a scientific mind. Animals mated without love. And so did people. Why couldn’t they?
The sounds of the stable that she’d become accustomed to changed, the air charged, and she knew the moment he walked in. The hairs on her arms stood up as she quickly finished with Opal and put her supplies away. She turned, sensing his presence in the doorway of the tack room.
“Would you care for a morning ride?” he asked, his expression unreadable.
She nodded, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. She put on her bonnet as she waited for a horse to be readied for her.
They rode out across the misty hills, first following the bluffs and then turning inland toward the forested downs. Her heart would not slow, even as they reined their horses in under the canopy of old spruce trees and walked a trail inward. He led her to a clearing that she’d never been to before. So little she knew of her land even within riding di
stance. Her life had never allowed her to step outside her small world, to explore beyond the endless list of chores she had to do to keep her family fed and warm.
The differences between her and Gavin were harsh. His coat was worth more than her entire wardrobe, she’d bet. He’d been many places, knew even her own county better than she. He could show her so many things, tell her of the many places she would never have a chance to go, but that was not her aim today. All of those things paled in comparison to the one desire she knew she’d regret leaving undiscovered.
She knew about pleasure, she knew parts of her body could feel pleasure more than others. But what would his hands feel like in her hair, or his arms feel like around her body?
She’d never been held before. How odd is that? The simple pleasure of being held by a man not her father was alien to her because of her station and sex.
It was wrong.
But today it would be made right.
He dismounted and came to help her down.
Her breathing hitched at the feel of his hands on her waist. The first of many touches she would hope to experience with him. He set her down, his expression unreadable and his silence telling.
He seemed nervous to her and that didn’t bode well.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked.
“Not particularly, you?”
“No.”
“The billiard game was a terrible idea.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Nothing untoward happened.”
“But it could have.” He met her gaze and all her hopes of a secret illicit tryst were blown away by the cold foreboding in his eyes.
“Is something wrong?”
“I need to speak with you.”
She raised a brow. “You already are.”
His lips twitched. “Yes, I know, but… I need to ask you a deeply personal question, and I don’t want to offend you.” He came closer to her and took her hands. “We’re friends. I want to protect you, Georgette.”
“Georgie. Only my father calls me Georgette.”
He nodded. “Georgie.”
“Fits better, doesn’t it? Georgette is too feminine and a bit coquettish I like to think. I picture a fancy woman with a massive intricate wig from—well, never mind. It simply isn’t me.”