Page 49 of When the Marquess Was Mine
“Only for that?” he asked dryly. “Not for telling another man he was your fiancé? I just want to know if he’s a jealous sort who might... react badly.”
Was he? She didn’t know. She’d never given Sterling cause to be jealous. “I don’t think so,” she murmured.
“Georgiana.” He touched her cheek; her head had sunk during this depressing little conversation, and Rob waited until she raised her eyes, even though they could barely see each other. “If he does anything hurtful, will you tell me?”
And he would do... what? Even though the thought of Rob defending her brought a burst of warmth to her heart, she knew that would only make Sterling’s upset worse—if he were in fact offended. Rob’s remark, that she spoke of Sterling more like a brother than a lover, had struck a nerve. Coupled with the fact that she’d not heard from Sterling since a brief letter soon after she arrived, she tended to think he might not much care what she’d done in Derbyshire, nor be bothered to find out.
“I’m not worried,” she told Rob. “But I am very grateful for your concern.” With a faltering smile, she placed her hand over his on her cheek and pressed it.
He went very still. Instead of dropping his hand away, his fingers twitched, tightening on her jaw almost as if he meant to pull her to him. He cupped his other hand around her nape, his hold light but fraught with suggestion. The breath clogged in her lungs and her imagination took off. What if he kissed her? He knew who he was now, and who she was; there would be no excuse. What would she do? She could no longer pretend it was in service of protecting his health or keeping up her story.
A wicked thrill of anticipation went through her. After all, they were alone out here in the dark garden, alone for the last time, out of sight and hearing of the house. No one—no one but the two of them—would ever know... It might be the last chance...
“Promise you’ll tell me if he’s unpleasant.”
“And what would you do?”
His thumb brushed her lower lip. “Something. Anything to keep him from hurting you.”
She drew a shallow breath. “It—it won’t be your concern then...”
His lips touched her brow, sending her heart leaping. “It will always be my concern.”
“No...” She tried to force her thoughts back into order. Feeling his breath on her skin was making her want things she could not have and should not want. “I mean,” she said unsteadily, “you needn’t worry. He won’t hurt me.”
“He’d better not,” Rob muttered. His fingertips traced her features as if he were memorizing them. “What will happen when we meet again in London?”
Georgiana could barely think. Her skin might be glowing from the heat sparked by his touch. “A civil greeting, I hope.”
“Will you pretend we’re strangers?”
We won’t be strangers, whispered her heart.Never.
“I don’t think I can manage it,” he added in a low voice. “Pretending I don’t know you.”
Something prickled inside her—something hot and hopeful and dangerous. It was sharp enough to frighten her, and blow away some of the haze of longing that seemed to enfold her. “I’m sure once you’re back amongst your friends there it won’t be that difficult,” she said, trying to quiet the tumult inside her. “It’s not as though we met very often.”
He raised his head. “Why not?”
She shifted uncomfortably, then decided to just say it. It would be easier if he snapped back to his usual disdainful manner. “Your circles and mine don’t overlap. My friends like fashion and gossip, shopping in Bond Street and eating ices at Gunther’s. Your friends are rakes who never dance, gamble all night, and are generally too wild and daring to notice a girl like me.”
He was quiet. “But Ihavenoticed you now.”
For one wicked moment, in spite of herself, she imagined him noticing her in London. He’d always been a lethally attractive creature, but now he was mesmerizing, with his tousled hair and wicked grin and mischievous air. She pictured him approaching her at a ball, sweeping her into his arms and around the room. She imagined him coming to call, setting Lady Sidlow—and all the neighbors—aflutter. She imagined walking in the park with him, her arm in his, him smiling down at her, pulling her against him under cover of an arbor much like this one and bending his head down to hers...
With a start she realized where her thoughts were leading. God save her—she wanted him to kiss her, and call on her, and do many more things only a husband or a lover should do. She had walked right up to the precipice of disaster, and had only caught herself at the last moment.
“I’m sure it will fade,” she said in a rush. “Your friends will remind you that young ladies like me are frivolous and vain, little prick-teasers who prance about trying to trap hapless gentlemen into marriage. She-devils in expensive gowns, only appeased by a steady offering of new jewels and ridiculous bonnets. A cross between a hangman and a Siren, the sort of creature you’d rather be flogged than dance with. That’s what you said about me once. I know you don’t remember,” she added quickly as he drew audible breath to protest. “I don’t hold it against you.” She couldn’t any longer, not now.
“But you should know... I don’t expect there will be a problem in London,” she went on. “The more you remember, the less you’ll care about me, and soon this will be simply something terrible, and a bit farcical, that happened to you. It will all fade once you’ve recovered. And I do hope for your complete recovery, you know—entirely. Please believe that much.”
“Georgiana,” he began, but she had to say her piece and escape, before any of those wicked thoughts in her head actually slipped out.
“Rob. My lord.” She clasped her hands around his wrists, gently removing his hands from her. Her shoulders and neck felt cold without his touch, and she shivered in the night air. “This has been the most incredible chain of mischance and misfortune and bad judgment—all mine, on the last,” she hastily said, lest he think she blamed him. “The less said about any of it, the better, I suspect. After tomorrow... after tomorrow we shan’t have any reason to know each other, and that is probably for the best.” He made a sharp motion, reaching for her again, and Georgiana leapt backward, already in retreat. “We should go back to the house. Your brother will be expecting us early tomorrow.”
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and hurried back to the house. He did not follow, nor did he stop her. And Georgiana wished she didn’t wonder, all the way through the garden, what she would have done if he had.
Chapter 16
