Page 113 of Lessons for Marquesses
“Whatwedid. Do not put this upon yourself.We.”
“Very well. She will tell Charlotte. Everyone. Whatwedid.”
“She will not.” He compelled her to walk toward the nursery.
Was she a whore? It was easy enough to judge another, though she had never used or thought the word in relation to another person. But to account for her own corrupt behavior and have nothing to justify it except her physical desires was a bone in her throat.
And she would do it again if given the chance.
Before the nursery door, Mr. Wolf surrounded her in his arms, pressing her to the warm space where the sinews of his neck met his jaw. He held her tighter, a hand sweeping up between her shoulder blades. Did he know how he affected her? That he made her ache with hunger? Thatwhorewas of little consequence in his arms?
“I am afraid,” she whispered. “Of what has happened to me. I do not know myself. I am ashamed of what I have done and yet I would gladly do it again. I regret the trouble that I have caused, and yet I do not.”
“Ah, George.” His breath teased as his lips brushed back and forth at her temple. “You are such a sweet woman.”
“Sweet? Hardly.”
“Sweet.” He demanded, not suggested.
A soft cry broke from her lips. “I plotted against my cousin’s ball after she ridiculed me for having to expend extra coin for a huge pink gown. The beverages are to be salted. The food laced with flies or purgatives. What Kitty and Julian’s friends settled upon, I cannot recall. But trust me, it was not sweet.”
“Sweet,” he murmured. “Ferociously sweet. Believe me. Believe in yourself.” He lowered his mouth, searching out hers. Cradled in his arms, her fears vanished.
“I must leave for a few days,” he said.
Georgiana felt the floor beneath her give way. Here was where he left her. Where he told her a few days and a few days would turn to a week and then weeks and then a month and then forever.
Her disbelief must have shown, for he angled his face to meet her eye to eye. “I will return.”
She half believed him. But it was better than no hope and she knew she would cling to it.
“While I am gone, you will avoid your cousin whenever possible and keep Miss Babbington close and your London friends. I shall speak to Lord Acomb on this as well, and he will protect you. I’ll depart in the morning, and tonight you will come to dinner and hold your head high knowing you are better than her, far more beautiful. Here.” He kissed her nose, her mouth.
“And you are beautiful here.” He pressed a hand at her breast. “She will never have what you have. Your nobility, courage. Your kindness.”
He cupped her face. “Andme. You haveme.”
Joy spread below his hand, everywhere, in places she did not know existed, and probably never had, until him. “Mr. Wolf…”
“Nicholas.”
“Nicholas,” she echoed. “I love you. I am so very much in love with you. And how can this be wrong if I love? If it is for the purest intentions that I wish to be with you? If I only wish to feel this love and show you my love? I will gladly be whatever I need to be, in your arms.”
His gaze swept across her face.
Reaching for her hand, he kissed it and tucked it between their bodies before drawing her closer. “I treasure your love, George. And one day, I shall be worthy of it.”
He slanted a kiss upon her lips. His shoulders, so strong, seemed to hold an invisible weight. “I will see you at dinner. Andremember, head high. You are a descendant of Penda, king of the Mercians.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Kitty bustled to the washstand,dousing a cloth, wringing it out and patting it over Georgiana’s pale cheeks. “Mr. Wolf will offer for your hand in marriage.”
“He will not.” The opportunity she had presented to him could not have been more ideal, but he had left without reciprocating her love, with only a vow to be worthy of it.
“He loves you, Georgiana. If you could have seen his face.”
“I saw his face. I could hardly not. It was pressed against mine.”
