Miller, Raine - The Undoing of a Libertine (Siren Publishing Classic) (3 page)

“Ah, a familial dispute. I’ve learned it is best not to get entangled in such prickly concerns as family squabbling, especially those that involve ultimatums.” But this was precisely his reason for being here, now wasn’t it? His grandfather had given him an ultimatum.

“You are exceptionally wise, Mr. Greymont, I assure you,” she replied wryly. “In fact, I must beg a favor from you. It is in your best interest for truth.”

“You intrigue me, Miss Georgina.” He leaned a little closer as he spoke into her ear, swallowing so hard she must have heard the gulping sound he made. “And the favor?”

“You must drop me off before we lead up to the house. Papa will make a huge fuss about the fact I went out walking, let alone being caught in a rainstorm. Trust me, you don’t want to enmesh yourself, Mr. Greymont.”

Yes I do.
“I might be persuaded to grant your favor if you give me one in return,” he bargained.

“What do you want?”

You splayed out naked in the bed underneath me.
“I will accept the simple promise of a favor for now. When I think of something, you must grant it forthwith,” he said teasingly.

“A favor within reason, Mr. Greymont,” she whispered stiffly in front of him.

“Of course, Miss Georgina. I strive to remain a gentleman in a lady’s presence. You should have no worries on that account.” Jeremy told himself he was truthful about the “striving” part at least, as he savored the idea of the favor he might win from her.

“This is a good place to stop.” She indicated with her head toward the edge of trees. “I’ll go on ahead, and if you’ll give me a few moments to make my way, I’d be grateful.” She stiffened her back, anxious again, waiting for him to do as she asked.

Pulling Samson to a gentle stop, he offered, “Let me assist you.” He leapt down and held up his arms to grip her. She hesitated, lowering her golden eyes before leaning into his strong hands. They latched on to her waist firmly, deft in bringing her to standing on the ground. He hated to take his hands away. He wished he could lower them to her hips instead and pull her right up against him so he could feel her close-up. But if he did, she’d sense a whole lot more of him than a young virgin should. And the shock to her maidenly sensibilities probably wouldn’t earn him any marks either, at least not good ones.

He had a lot to learn about virgins, he knew. Best to start now, he thought wryly, having never imagined a time in his life when such lessons would be necessary.

Jeremy looked down at her, willing her eyes to lift so he could read her. She kept them downward though, her long lashes curling delicately over cheekbones sprinkled with raindrops.
Just lovely.

She had a scar on her left cheekbone that curved up almost to the corner of her eye. It wasn’t large and it wasn’t horrible, but it could be seen clearly, as if to validate her humanity—the absence of perfection in her skin. Something had hurt her in that place, and she’d bled just like every other person did, and when the skin had healed, something was left behind—a mark to remind that everyone was just flesh and blood and bone.

His hand lifted, seemingly all on its own with the need to touch where she’d been hurt and to brush the rain on her skin. What would it feel like? Pulling back just in time, shocked at how close he’d come to pawing her, he forced some words out of his mouth. “You’d better get yourself out of the rain. I’d hate to think of you becoming ill.”

She nodded slowly.

“Until later then, Miss Georgina,” he offered, hoping that “later” wouldn’t be too long in coming.

She curtsied elegantly then raised up to face him. “Mr. Greymont, thank you for your assistance, and the favor.” Next she turned to Samson and held out her hand. When the beast nuzzled forward, she stroked the gray velvet of his nose. “And thank you, noble Samson, for carrying me home.”

Those eyes of hers did him in. Jeremy got lost. He knew it the instant they lifted. Unable to speak, he just stood there, watching her talk to his horse, very happily waylaid in those pools of glittering gold.

“I am in your debt.”
Turning abruptly, she fled the copse of trees, hurrying toward the rear entrance of the house.

Jeremy didn’t know if that last part was meant for him or for Samson, but he didn’t much care.
Her voice mesmerized him. Laced with a hint of huskiness and emoting pure sensuality in the most innocent way, the sound drew him in. He wanted to just sit and listen to her talk. For hours. And he didn’t want her to go yet.

Jeremy sucked in air as a stab hit him in the chest and he had to watch her leave.
Eglantine still hung in the wet air where she’d just stood.

Georgina displayed herself as lovely and alluring and proper. Jeremy felt a definite attraction, but there was something that didn’t ring true with her situation. He knew this without a shadow of a doubt. Georgina Russell was not as he remembered her. Neither spirited nor confident. Something plagued her, a burden of some kind. He would describe her as an anxious beauty now. Jeremy was sure he didn’t imagine it.

“We’ll have to just find out what is bothering the pretty lady, won’t we, Samson?” he said to his horse.

Samson nickered and nudged Jeremy on the shoulder.

Chapter Three

And when we think we lead, we are most led.

—Lord Byron,
The Two Foscari
(1821)

Georgina shivered in her clinging, wet dress. Her whole body tingled, and she registered her breath coming faster than it should. She had known him precisely the moment she’d spied him on the road.
Jeremy Greymont.

Here at Oakfield. And why was he here? He hadn’t come for a visit in years. An uncomfortable stuttering, emanating from the region of her chest, seized her for a second before it could be willed away.

Just as charming as she remembered, and handsome. Not handsome by society’s standards though. He carried too much of a roughness for that distinction, from the intensity of his gaze to the unshaven shadow he wore. His clear blue eyes showed much more lurking underneath that manly, rugged visage of unsaid wants, mystery, a darkness, something a little wild and unchained in their depths. His sandy-brown hair was a bit longer than he used to wear it, unruly and falling over a heavy brow, complementing those azure eyes of his perfectly.

For all his refined manners and dress, he possessed a certain
bons vivants,
a hale quality that surged from him with every gesture. He was male strength and power all wrapped up in a very tall, broad-shouldered, muscular package.

And that voice of his! He spoke with an irreverent drawl that gave off a clear devil-may-care attitude but somehow managed to refrain from bridging into disrespect. Georgina found his manner of speaking to be charming. Too charming for his own good, probably.

She rang for a bath and perused the gowns in her wardrobe, ticking through them rather harshly until she rested her fingers on a shimmering sea-green silk taffeta. She had yet to wear the dress. It had been ordered before and delivered after. Georgina remembered dates like that now. Like every event in her life now measured against that one experience in time.

She laid out the gown carefully on her bed. The color looked nice—watery and cool, like the rain today that had wet them both. She shook her head to free the vision but went right back to thoughts of Jeremy Greymont anyway, despite her desire to steer clear of him.

As if charm needed to be a factor of consideration for him. She could not imagine he lacked feminine admiration. No, that man wouldn’t even need to employ charm. He’d have a plethora of ladybirds swooning over him without ever having to open his mouth. Jeremy Greymont was very pleasing in her view. She’d have thought he’d be married by now, what with his eventual title and wealth. The women must have to be beat back with a stick.

In the saddle with him had been a struggle. The silence deafening over the creak of the tack, the clop of Samson’s hooves, and the soft whisper of rain.

Georgina’s every sense had been heightened by being pressed so close to him. His body had been hard like marble, but warm. And he smelled good. Being up in that saddle next to Jeremy Greymont had felt strangely safe though, like nothing bad could ever happen.

* * * *

“Your coat is a right mess, sir.” The valet took his master’s coat with a wince.

“Please don’t fuss, Myers. We both know you live for the joy of putting my clothes to rights.” Jeremy unbuttoned his waistcoat and then his fine, white shirt, shrugged out of both of them at the same time, and let them drop. “How was the voyage?”

Jeremy didn’t miss Myers’s patient sigh as he retrieved the garments from the floor. “It was satisfactory, sir. You could have spared yourself the rain had you rode in your coach.”

“Ah, I could have, but am so very glad I did not ride with you in my coach,” Jeremy said smugly.

“Sir?” Myers asked, distracted by the clothing in desperate need of his attentions, but responding anyway, as the loyal man he was.

“Nothing, Myers. Don’t you worry your head about it. Just lay me a hot bath and work your magic on my dinner dress for tonight. There is a lady here I wish to impress.”

Myers ignored him. Probably didn’t even hear most of what Jeremy had said. It didn’t matter. Myers would fit him out smartly even if it was raining mud at a country frolic on the heath.

* * * *

“Georgie, look who’s come to visit!” Tom Russell called his sister over to where they stood. “Surely you will remember my friend, Jeremy Greymont, from Hallborough Park. He’s come for the shooting.” Tom turned to Jeremy. “Greymont, my sister, Georgina, now all grown up.”

Jeremy bowed, unable to keep the teasing from his voice. “Miss Georgina, how do you do? I must say, I did not recognize you,
so
different you look from the last time we met.”

If he thought she looked lovely glistening in raindrops, he was even more impressed with her fitted into a marvelous green dress, the bodice of which caressed her breasts in the way his hands wanted to. Her rosy scent floated up his nose, calming and enticing at the same time.

“Mr. Greymont.” She curtsied. “Welcome back to Oakfield.” She lifted her face, sending him a silent “thank you” for keeping their meeting today in confidence.

He flashed a wink to let her know their secret was safe. A burst of gladness warmed him. He liked the idea that they were keeping secrets together, and the pretty smile she returned.

“Thank you for the welcome. I look forward to the restorative freshness of the country. London has many qualities, but I think most would agree that freshness is not among them.”

“Do you live in London now, Mr. Greymont?”

“I split my time between Town and my home, Hallborough, along the coast in west Somerset.”

“Can you spy the sea from your house?”

“Indeed. The view is quite stunning. Sometimes all the way to the Welsh coast across the channel if the sky is clear. It makes for quite a sight. The local artists find it a favorite scene to capture.”

Jeremy liked that Georgina seemed so interested in his home, and all of a sudden, a vision of her standing out on the second-floor balcony, staring out to sea, popped into his head. He could see her dress blowing back, framing her legs, and her long hair whipping in the ocean breeze. And she looked so very natural standing there on his balcony, in that pretty imaginary vision. Like she belonged. He took a sip of wine to give himself something to do, for he suddenly felt very self-conscious of every word he spoke and every movement he made.

“Well, it sounds very beautiful, Mr. Greymont. You paint a nice picture of your home for me to imagine.”

“Do you still sketch, Miss Georgina? I do remember you liked to draw at one time.”

She smiled at him. Not a huge smile, but one of genuine warmth. So warm, in fact, he felt it, too. Her smile warmed him.