Page 21 of This Earl of Mine

She let out a relieved breath, which brought his attention to the perfect curves of her breasts beneath her morning dress. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“How will you pay me?”

She shifted in her seat. “Um. An allowance, I suppose. Say three hundred pounds a month for the next three months? And the balance on the day we wed. Does that sound fair?”

He suppressed a triumphant smile. “More than fair. All right. You have a deal.”

Georgie blinked as Wylde stood. She rose too, hating the disadvantage of her smaller size as he crossed the roomin two large strides. Goodness, she’d forgotten how tall he was. How broad.

He smiled down at her. “Shall we shake on it?” That wicked twinkle was back in his eye. “Or should we seal our bargain as we did our wedding? With a kiss?”

She couldn’t stop her eyes from dropping to his far-too-tempting mouth. What would it feel like to kiss him without all those prickles? Were his lips as soft as she remembered? “I… ah—”

He leaned down, blocking out the light, and she held her breath as indecision warred with desire. She ought to pull away. She did not move.

The front of his chest brushed hers. His warm exhalation fanned her lips.

And a commotion in the hallway ruined the moment.

Georgie silently cursed Pieter’s timing as Wylde stepped back in a rush of cool air. A second later a knock sounded on the door and the mountain entered, followed by her loyal Dutchman.

“Are you done, miss?”

Georgie cleared her throat, certain her cheeks were burning. Good heavens, where were her wits? “Yes, thank you, Pieter. I was just taking my leave.”

She risked a glance at Wylde, who looked as innocent as a schoolboy and not at all like a man who’d been about to kiss her. If he was disappointed, it didn’t show. Perhaps he’d only been playing with her. Doubtless he affected every woman in this same, unnerving way.

“I shall see you soon, Mr. Wylde?”

He offered her a stiff formal bow and that pirate’s smile. “You can be sure of it, Miss Caversteed.”

Chapter 13.

“Georgie, will you walk with me in the park?”

Georgie looked up from her book and cast a frowning glance at the leaden sky beyond the bay window. “I think it’s going to rain.”

Juliet twirled her bonnet around by the ribbons and gave her brightest smile. “Nonsense. Not until this afternoon. Oh, please come. I can’t ask Mother. She’s gone to call on Mrs. Cox.”

Her sister’s flushed cheeks were highly suspicious. Juliet never volunteered for physical exercise. “What’s going on, Ju?”

Juliet sank gracefully onto the chaise, almost fizzing with excitement. “It’s Simeon! He’s here, in London. I just received a note saying he wants to meet.” She cast a beseeching puppy-dog look at Georgie.

“Can’t he just call here, like all your other suitors?”

“You know he can’t. Mother’s likely to turn him away, and I don’t want to go behind her back. You know howdisapproving she is. Oh,pleasesay you’ll come. I promise it won’t take long. I’ve missed him so much.”

“Oh, all right. But wear a shawl.”

As Juliet rushed off to dress, Georgie suppressed a twinge of envy. At least her sister had heard fromherbeau. She hadn’t heard anything from Wylde for the past three days. Perhaps he’d reconsidered their outlandish deal. Perhaps that was for the best.

She’d been proud of the cool, logical way she’d presented her case, because when it came to Benedict Wylde, her feelings were thoroughly illogical—a confusing mix of wariness, mistrust, and heart-pounding attraction. She shook her head and went to find a bonnet and an umbrella in case her prediction of rain proved true.

It was only a short walk from Grosvenor Square, down Upper Brook Street to Hyde Park, and although grey clouds threatened, the day was surprisingly warm for March. They hadn’t been in the park more than a few minutes, strolling down the long avenues and trailed by Juliet’s long-suffering maid Charlotte, when disaster struck.

Juliet had just bent to sniff some early-blooming daffodils when she gasped.

“Oh! I see Simeon! Over there, on the other side of the pond!”

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