Impetuous Innocent (Regencies 3)

“THERE’S A YOUNG LADY to see you, m’lord.”

Dominic Ridgeley, fifth Viscount Alton, lifted his blue eyes to his butler’s face. Around him, on the polished mahogany table, the remains of a substantial breakfast bore mute testimony to his recent occupation. But the dishes had been pushed aside to make way for a pile of letters, one of which his lordship clasped in one long-fingered hand.

“I beg your pardon?”

“A young lady has called, m’lord.” Not a quiver of emotion showed on the butler’s lined face.

Lord Alton’s black brows rose. His features became perceptibly harder, his blue gaze perceptibly chillier. “Have you taken leave of your senses, Duckett?”

Such a question, in such a tone, would have reduced most servants to incoherent gibbering. But Duckett was a butler of the highest standing. And he had known the present Lord Alton from the cradle. He answered the question with an infinitesimal smile. “Naturally not, m’lord.”

His answer appeared to appease his master. Lord Alton regarded his henchman with a puzzled and slightly wary frown. “Oh?”

At the prompt, Duckett explained. “It seems the young lady requires assistance with some difficulty, m’lord. She asked to see Lady Alton. She appears to be in some distress. I thought it wise not to turn her away. Her name is Miss Hartley.”

“Hartley?” The black brows drew down. “But there aren’t any Miss Hartleys at the Place, are there?”

In response to his master’s quizzical look, Duckett graciously informed him, “I have heard that Mr James Hartley’s daughter has been visiting the Place for the past few days. From the Continent, I believe.”

“Staying with frightful Charles? Poor girl.”

“Exactly so, m’lord.”

Lord Alton fixed Duckett with a suspicious look. “You said she was distressed. She’s not weeping and having the vapours, is she?”

“Oh, no, m’lord. Miss Hartley is perfectly composed.”

Lord Alton frowned again. “Then how do you know she’s distressed?”

Duckett coloured slightly. “It was her hands, m’lord. She was clutching her reticule so tightly, her knuckles were quite white.”

Suitably impressed by his butler’s astuteness, Lord Alton leant back in his chair, absent-mindedly laying the letter he had been reading on the pile before him. Then he glanced up. “You think I should see her?”

Duckett met his master’s eye and did not misunderstand his question. No one who was acquainted with Lord Alton could fail to comprehend the delicacy of the matter. For a young lady to meet a gentleman alone, particularly in the gentleman’s house, with no other lady anywhere about, was hardly the sort of behaviour someone as conservative as Duckett would normally encourage. And when the gentleman in question was Lord Dominic Alton, the situation took on an even more questionable hue. But Duckett’s perception was acute. Miss Hartley was in trouble and out of her depth. His master could be relied upon to provide the answer to her troubles. And, regardless of his reputation, she stood in no danger from him. She was too young and too green, not his type at all. So, Duckett cleared his throat and said, “Despite the—er—conventions, yes, m’lord, I think you should see her.”

With a sigh, Lord Alton rose, stretching to his full six feet. Relaxing, he shook out his cuffs and settled his dark blue coat over his broad shoulders. Then he looked up and wagged an admonitory finger at Duckett. “If this lands me in scandal, old friend, it’ll be all your fault.”

Duckett grinned and opened the door for his master. “As you wish, m’lord. She’s in the drawing-room.”

With one last warning glance, Lord Alton passed through the door and crossed the hall.

GEORGIANA’S DREAM was distinctly disturbing. In it, she had transformed into one of the nymphs depicted in the Fragonard canvas. Together with her unknown sisters, she cavorted freely through a sylvan glade, blushing at the cool drift of the breeze across her naked skin. Abruptly, she halted. Someone was watching her. She glanced around, blushing even more rosily. But there was no one in sight. The sensation of being watched grew. She opened her eyes.

And gazed bemusedly into eyes of cerulean blue.

Her gaze widened, and she saw the man behind the eyes. She stopped breathing, no longer sure which was reality and which the dream. For the man watching her, a gleam of undisguised appreciation in the depths of those beautiful blue eyes, was undoubtedly a god. And even more disturbing than her erotic dream. His shoulders were broad, filling her sight, his body long and lean and muscular. His face was strongly featured, yet held the clean lines painters adored. Thick dark hair cloaked his head in elegant waves, softening the effect of his determinedly squared

chin. Finely drawn lips held the hint of a disturbing smile. And his eyes, glorious blue, set under strongly arched brows and framed by lashes too long and thick for a man, seemed to hold all the promise of a summer’s afternoon.

“Oh!” It was the most coherent response she could muster.

The vision smiled. Georgiana’s heart lurched.

“You were sleeping so peacefully I was loath to disturb you.”

The deep tones of his voice enclosed Georgiana in a warmth reminiscent of fine velvet. With an effort, she straightened, forcing her body to behave and her mind to function. “I… I’m so sorry. I must have drifted off. I was waiting for Lady Alton.”

The gentleman retreated slightly to lean one elegant arm along the mantelpiece, one booted foot resting on the hearth. The blue eyes, disconcertingly, remained trained on her face.