Impetuous Innocent (Regencies 3)

Settling Georgiana’s coat over her shoulders, Dominic cast a sharp glance at their host, standing genially beside them. “Harry…?”

Lord Edgcombe’s grey eyes met his over Georgiana’s head. A slight frown and a shake of the head was all the immediate response Harry made as Georgiana turned to thank him for his trouble. He charmingly disclaimed all effort, bowing with easy grace over her hand. As he straightened, his eyes intercepted Dominic’s blue gaze.

“Not a word, I assure you.” The grey eyes glinted, amusement in their depths. “You have my heartfelt thanks. Can you doubt it? Any word from me would cook my own goose, after all.”

Reassured but puzzled, Dominic raised his brows in question.

Harry grinned and waved an airy hand. “M’sisters are a mite pressed at the moment, it seems. Can you imagine their joy if they learned of—er—what so recently transpired? Why, it would spell the end to my distinguished career.” He fixed Dominic with a winning smile. “No, no, m’lad. Rather you than me.”

Walking towards the door ahead of the two men, Georgiana, no longer subject to Viscount Alton’s mesmerising gaze, tried to follow the gist of their conversation, to no avail. When she turned in the doorway to bid Lord Edgcombe goodbye, it was to see both men cordially shaking hands. Piqued, feeling that something was going on literally over her head, Georgiana tilted her chin a fraction higher and coolly responded to Lord Edgcombe’s farewell.

Turning to the street, she majestically descended the steps, but had barely gained the pavement before Lord Alton’s long fingers grasped her elbow. A spurt of anger urged her to shake off his hand, but the memory of that odd glint she had seen in his eye undermined her confidence. Before she had time to do more than register the fact that it was into a hackney rather than one of his own carriages he was helping her, she was inside. He followed her, taking the seat beside her. Immediately the driver whistled up his horse and they moved off.

Georgiana strove to quiet her nerves, aquiver with an unnameable emotion. She kept her eyes on the streetscape while she tried to make sense of events. Why had he come to fetch her? Bella? Impulsively, she turned.

“Is Bella all right?”

His face was a mask. At her question, one black brow rose. “As far as I am aware.” After a moment he added, “She’s waiting at Alton House.”

Alerted by the chilled crispness of his tone, Georgiana eyed him warily. “Did she send you for me?”

Suddenly noticing the tension in his long frame, Georgiana tensed too. But his calmly enunciated, “Yes. She sent me,” gave her no clue to the cause of what she suspected was his displeasure.

Irritated by his odd behaviour, Georgiana frowned and asked, “Why?”

“Because, having learned that you had taken yourself off to visit a house in Jermyn Street, which, to one who knows London, means almost certainly to call on a bachelor alone, she needed someone to rescue you.”

“But I didn’t need rescuing,” declared Georgiana, turning to face him more fully. “There was nothing the least wrong.”

At his strangled laugh she flushed and went on, “I admit it was a relief to find it was Lord Edgcombe who lives there, but that just made it easier. And I made sure I took Cruickshank with me so I wasn’t alone.”

“When I entered the house, Cruickshank was in the hall and you were most definitely alone with Harry.” With an effort, Dominic kept his voice even.

Flushing at the censure in his tone, Georgiana swung her gaze to the street. “Yes, but there wasn’t… I was in no danger of…” Georgiana broke off. Now she thought it over, she was no longer so sure she hadn’t been in danger. There had been a rather disquieting gleam in Lord Edgcombe’s grey eyes when she had first arrived. However, the more they had talked, the more she had become convinced he was merely slightly nervous over something. Maybe she had misread the signs. Still, he had done nothing to deserve Lord Alton’s suspicions. “Lord Edgcombe was most truly the gentleman.”

“I would imagine Harry would always act the gentleman he undoubtedly is,” Dominic retorted, asperity colouring his words. “But that doesn’t mean he isn’t a rake and a gamester, and therefore totally unsuitable as private company for a young lady. Such as yourself.”

There was no mistaking the anger in the clipped words. Amazed, her own temper flying, Georgiana turned an incredulous face to him. “But you’re a rake and a gamester, too. Why is it safe for me to be alone with you but not with him?”

At her question Dominic closed his eyes in exasperation and thought determinedly about his old nurse, about climbing trees at Candlewick—anything to shut out the urge to sweep her on to his lap and kiss her witless. Safe? She was pushing her luck.

Anger growing at his refusal to answer, Georgiana continued, her long irritation with the oddities of English mores finding sudden outlet. “Why did you send Cruckers away? Surely it’s not acceptable for me to be riding in a carriage alone with you?”

Forcibly keeping his eyes shut, Dominic answered, “The only reason it’s acceptable for you to be alone with me is because we’re soon to be married.” He waited for her “Oh” of understanding. When no sound came, he slowly opened his eyes.

Georgiana was staring at him in total confusion.

Quickly Dominic closed his eyes. She was definitely not safe.

For long minutes Georgiana could do nothing but stare. But the fact that he had his eyes closed made it easier for her to think. He should have received the deed of the Place that morning. Dominic had said he would visit her once the sale was finalised, to discuss their mutual interest. She had no idea what he had meant by that. Now that he owned the Place, she could see no reason why he would still want to marry her.

In real perturbation, Georgiana stared at the handsome face, wishing she could read his motives in the even features. Then, like a beacon on a hill, she saw the light. He had gone too far, too publicly, to draw back now. And that old scandal, the one that had started his rakish career, hung like Damocles’ sword, forcing him to offer for her or face the censure of the ton.

Which meant she would have to deny him again, one last time. And make it convincing.

She knew he did not love her, not as she understood love. He had shown no fiery passion, uttered no impassioned speeches nor indulged in any melodramatic gestures—all components of love as she knew it. The only time he had kissed her, it had been like a magic caress, so light that she could have dreamt it. But she was in love with him. And, because there seemed to be developing a strange conduit of communication between them, one that did not need words, or even gestures, a sensing that relied on something other than the physical, because of this, she would have to end it now. Or he would know.

And that would be even harder to bear.