Georgiana stiffened at the intimacy, then, as his lips moved over her skin, warm and gentle, yet teasing, so teasing, promising more of the delicious delight, she relaxed fully against him, accepting and wanting to know more as the fires within her grew.
The click of the door-latch brought Dominic’s head up.
“This place is nice and quiet. So much noise up there, can’t hear yourself think!” The old Duke of Beuccleugh stumped into the room, accompanied by two equally ancient cronies. They headed across the room towards the deep armchairs by the hearth, but pulled up to stare at the couple engaged in rapt contemplation of the picture on the wall between the long windows.
“Very nice brush strokes, don’t you agree?” said Viscount Alton, gesturing towards the painting. Georgiana choked.
Dominic turned, as if just realising they were no longer alone.
The Duke peered at him, then recognition dawned. “Oh, it’s you, Alton.”
“Your grace.” Dominic bowed.
“Admiring the view?” enquired the Duke, hard grey eyes glinting.
With an expression of bland innocence, Dominic explained, “Miss Hartley’s father painted the portrait.”
“Ah.” His Grace’s grey gaze switched to Georgiana, curtsying deeply. “Painter chappie, heh? Vaguely recall him, if m’memory don’t serve me false.” He nodded benignly at Georgiana, then recalled his purpose in the room. “Dancing’s started again upstairs.”
Dominic took the hint. “In that case, we should perhaps return.” He turned to Georgiana and offered his arm. “Miss Hartley?”
Very correctly, Georgiana placed her hand on his sleeve and allowed him to escort her back to the ballroom. She was deeply shaken. Never would she have believed she would enjoy such a scandalous interlude. Yet she had not only enjoyed it; even now, with her eyes wide open, and no longer under his hypnotic spell, she was conscious of how deeply she resented the interruption that had brought a premature end to proceedings. Her concupiscence shocked her.
Unknown to Georgiana, her response had also shocked Dominic although, in his case, the feeling was purely pleasurable. On the stairs he recalled his as yet unfulfi
lled intention of making clear to the beautiful creature on his arm that he had, most definitely, known who she was at the masked ball the week before. Determined to be rid of this potential source of misunderstanding, he waited until they had reached the upper landing before stopping to glance down at a still flushed Georgiana. Unable to resist a knowing smile, drawing sparks from her huge hazel eyes, he chose what he thought was a simple but effective means of conveying his information. “I most heartily approve of that dress, my love,” he said, his voice a sensuous murmur. “It will doubtless vie for prominence in my memory with that topaz silk creation you wore at the masked ball.”
Georgiana blushed furiously, completely missing the implication in her thoroughly unnerved state. With an enormous effort, she gathered sufficient control to incline her head graciously and say, “I think perhaps we should return to the ballroom, my lord.”
A deep chuckle answered her. “I’m sure you’re right, my love. You’ve had quite enough adventure—for tonight.”
There was a wealth of promise in his suggestive tone, none of which was lost on Georgiana. She willed her jittery nerves to compliance and, with the most serene expression she could muster firmly fixed on her face, allowed him to lead her back into the cacophany of the ballroom.
NOT UNTIL she was wrapped in the darkness of the Winsmere carriage on the long drive home from the Massinghams’ did Georgiana allow her mind to dwell on the events of the evening. Even in the shielding gloom, she felt herself blush as she recalled those long moments in the library. How could she have been so…so positively wanton? Easily, came the damning reply. And now he knew. The thought made her shiver. Drawing her cloak more closely about her, she snuggled into its warmth, feeling the silk lining brush across her bare shoulders. These outrageously fashionable gowns of Fancon’s hardly helped. Somehow, scantily clad in satin and silks, she was much more aware of a peculiar need to be held, to be stroked and caressed as she had been that evening. Repressing a little snort of derision, she told herself she could hardly claim it was the dresses which made her feel as she did. They simply made it easier to feel so…abandoned.
Jettisoning that unproductive line of thought, she blushed again as she remembered Dominic’s rapid actions when the Duke and his friends had threatened discovery. She had sensed his suppressed laughter and had had to struggle to subdue her own, bubbling up in reply. It was odd, now she came to consider the matter, that she felt no sense of shame, only frustration.
Abruptly refocusing her thoughts once more, she tried to remember what he had said later, before they had gained the ballroom. Her mind promptly supplied the caress in his eyes as they had roamed appreciatively over her face and shoulders before he had complimented her on her gown. What had he said? Something about it being as pretty as her topaz silk.
The carriage jolted over a rut and she slipped sideways on the seat. She resettled herself in her corner, sightlessly watching the house fronts slip past the window.
Then her mind caught hold of the elusive memory, and his words replayed in her head. “It will doubtless vie for prominence in my memory with that topaz silk creation you wore at the masked ball.”
Georgiana gasped.
“Georgie? Are you all right?”
Struggling to draw breath, Georgiana managed a reassuring phrase, then, feeling winded, curled up in her corner and gave her full attention to her staggering discovery.
He had known!
Which, as she had long ago worked out, meant…Her mind went completely blank, unable to accept the implication. Yet it was the only explanation possible.
Her heart beating in double time, a host of quivery, fluttery feelings crowding her chest, Georgiana forced her mind to grapple with the unthinkable. He had known, therefore he was… Oh, heavens!
THE NEXT THREE DAYS passed in a haze of happiness. Georgiana hardly dared to believe her deductions, yet, whenever she met Lord Alton, every word, every action, confirmed them. He was paying court to her. Her—little Georgiana Hartley!
Bella seemed quite unaware and, yielding to the promptings of some sixth sense, Georgiana did not explain the source of her sudden elation to her friend. Bella had, certainly, noticed her glow. Uncharacteristically, she had yet to enquire its cause. But Georgiana was too much in alt to worry about such inconsistencies.