The Earl's Wager (12 page)

Will turned his attention back to his charge. “I’ll help you fill your dance card. Let us go now, and I’ll see you introduced to other
eligible
bachelors.”

“We’d all be happy for a dance with Miss Duvall.” Leighton nodded to the other men. “Wouldn’t we? If you’ll hand me your card, I shall be honored.”

Before Will could think to intercept, Georgia handed him her card.

“I’ll say,” said Hewett from behind him. “At this rate, you’ll have a suitor for Miss Duvall by week’s end.” He took a step forward and extended a hand to Georgia. “I’m in the next county over. Barnabas Marshall, Marquess of Hewett, at your service.”

When Georgia gave her hand to Hewett, he lightly kissed the back of her gloved fingers as society would deem appropriate. Will reluctantly trusted Hewett, but not Leighton.

“I should be honored to have a slot on your dance card as well, Miss Duvall,” Hewett said.

“Thank you. But gentlemen,” Georgia said with a wry smile, “I must warn you. My riding skills are much better than my dancing.”

The men chuckled heartily.

Will repressed a groan.

“I will be the judge of that,” Hewett said with an offhanded shrug.

“With a horse beneath my legs, riding across the countryside,” Georgia wistfully said, her eyes closed, “the cool wind in my face, the feel of his body beneath me…” She opened her eyes and licked her bottom lip. “I don’t believe there’s a better place on earth.”

All five gentlemen, including Will, gaped at her. She had no idea how comely she looked when she talked about doing what she dearly loved. The passion in her face, the delight shining from her blue eyes, she was mesmerizing and had apparently entranced every man near her.

“You’ve a charming way of describing your love of riding, Miss Duvall,” Leighton said in a rich tone. “You simply must allow me to ride with you sometime.”

“She’ll do no such thing,” Will exclaimed. His eyes widened at the realization that he was very likely making a spectacle of himself and therefore bringing negative attention upon Georgia.

“Whyever not?” Georgia inquired before turning to Leighton. “A ride with you, my lord, sounds delightful.”

“I’ll call upon you.” Leighton’s lips curved with the barest hint of a smile.

“No, you won’t,” Will announced.

“Will, what is wrong with you?” Georgia asked.

Had it not been for Hewett placing a hand on Will’s shoulder, he might have gone for Leighton’s throat.

Like the gentleman he was, Hewett said calmly, “What I think Grandleigh meant to say is that you’ll have to speak with her cousin, the Earl of Marsdale, about riding with Miss Duvall.” Hewett nodded to all the men surrounding Georgia. “He’s her ward, although he’s indisposed this evening, and that’s why Grandleigh has been put in charge of her care.”

These men didn’t respect Will. He’d thought the sins of his father had passed, but apparently not. Were they poking fun at Georgia, or had he been reading too much into it? If they were only teasing her in good humor, it had been lost on him. Or were they imagining they were the steed Georgia was riding? It’s not like Georgia would know. She was an innocent—except in kissing, thanks to him. She was innocent in the ways that meant an English gentleman with an Eton education could undercut her with his words, without the victim even realizing it.

“Come, Georgia.” Will extended his arm for her to take. “Lady Penelope wishes to speak with you.”

Georgia looked at Will then told the men, “I’ll see each of you shortly, when we dance.”

All four nodded.

“And remember, I warned you I am a better rider than dancer,” she called over her shoulder as Will pulled her along.

“You aren’t to leave my side the rest of the evening,” Will said in a grumbling tone.

“That’s a little impossible, my lord, when I’m to dance with each of those four men.” She stopped and glanced at her card. “In fact, one of them in only a few minutes.”

Will stopped as well.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“Away from those men,” he replied.

“I’m supposed to be meeting men and dancing with”—she peered at her card again—“Sir Jonas Moore, in a matter of moments. If you whisk me away, how will he find me?”

Will knew she made perfect sense and he did not. But dammit, he’d been so thrown off course by seeing her surrounded by admirers, and even more flustered by the talk of her
riding
. He had to get her out of there—she had no idea just how cunning
gentlemen
could be. Then again, he could have been reading entirely too much into the exchange because he was jealous.

Jealous
. The thought stunned him because he couldn’t deny it. He was jealous.

“Will, did you hear me?” Georgia asked.

“Yes, I heard you. Yes, they will be able to find you just fine. Don’t you see that those men aren’t… They aren’t right for you.” He realized he was going to say they weren’t good enough for her, but that made no sense either. She was an American-born woman without proper English manners. If those purported gentlemen knew she’d secretly taken the place of a jockey, for God’s sake, how interested would they be in her? Just the fact that she’d confessed she occasionally rode with jockeys was scandalous enough. Did they assume she rode astride as well?

“How so?” she asked honestly. “Aren’t they in need of a wife, just like I’m in need of a husband?”

“Yes, but—”

“I don’t understand you, my lord.” She placed her hands on her hips.

“All right. I overreacted,” he said quietly. “But I’m not certain
Oliver
would think those men appropriate for you.”

“They are titled gentlemen, are they not? And if they are at a country dinner party, I can only hope their interests are for living in the countryside, which is more preferable to me than city life. We might have that one thing in common, and if any of those men love racing and training horses the way that I do, then all the better.”

When she made so much damn sense, he couldn’t come up with a reason to refute her. His common intellect where Miss Georgia Duvall was concerned seemed a jumbled mess of inconsistencies. “I suppose.”

“Now, I’m going to the ladies’ room, then I’ll be on the dance floor. I’m doing perfectly well on my own, but if you wish to escort me back to Sir Jonas, then I’ll be back in a moment.” Her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of concern and stubbornness.

Life had been so simple when Arabella and he were children. But now? He had to find a way to let go of things he couldn’t control—like Miss Georgia Duvall. “Yes, you are permitted to dance with Sir Jonas on your own. I’ll be near the corridor by the refreshments if you need me.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Georgia said smoothly, and she was gone.

Had the kiss they shared meant nothing? Was it simply an act of tutoring for her? She confused the hell out of him. The sooner she was betrothed, the sooner he’d have his racehorse and the sooner he’d move on with his life.

In the meantime, he’d seek refreshment with something stronger than lemonade.

Chapter Eleven

Georgia danced with Sir Jonas Moore, then she danced with Mr. Adrian Welby and two other gentlemen who asked her to dance before a quadrille with the Marquess of Hewett. Although she was near exhaustion, when it was time to waltz with Lucas Price, the Earl of Leighton, she didn’t hesitate, because no matter how tired she was she wouldn’t refuse him.

He’d been reported by Lady Penelope as being one of the
ton’s
most eligible bachelors because his father, a duke, was in ill health, meaning Lord Leighton would inherit a dukedom in the very near future. Georgia’s goal was to manage an introduction to the man’s father, then she would decide how to proceed.

However, Lady Penelope had also mentioned Lord Leighton’s reputation as a scoundrel and a rake. But that didn’t matter, because she wasn’t interested in Lord Leighton, only his father.

While Will had kept a sharp eye on her during all her dances, she didn’t see him along the perimeter of the dance floor. Perhaps he had been pulled into a card game or had stepped away for a moment. Regardless, she was glad for the respite from him constantly watching her.

During the waltz, Lord Leighton probably held her a little closer than what was considered appropriate, but Georgia didn’t mind. She enjoyed his warm hand on her back and his breath tickling her brow, as it reminded her of her encounters with Will when he kissed her. Without the same fluttery feelings, at all, however. Only Will stirred those.

Still, she was breathless from all the exertion and asked, “Lord Leighton, would you mind terribly if we took a stroll in the gardens? I’m not used to so much dancing, and the cool air would feel good.”

“I’m at your service, Miss Duvall.” He escorted her out of the ballroom and to the balcony.

“Were you serious when you said you’d like to take me riding, or do you say that to all the ladies?” Georgia asked as they walked down the stairs to the gardens.

Leighton chuckled. “I was and am quite serious.”

“Will… Lord Grandleigh has been tutoring me in what’s proper and not so proper in your British ways.”

“Has he now?” Leighton inquired with a raised brow.

“Yes, but I’m not sure how good of a student I am.”

“I’m sure you’re a brilliant student.” He sounded sincere. “And what types of things is Grandleigh teaching you?”

At the bottom of the stairs, they turned into a partially lit pathway with herbaceous borders lining both sides. Torches lit their way, and Georgia found the atmosphere enchanting. Shrubs of varying species and thickets covered the grounds. “He says I speak of things that young ladies shouldn’t mention. And we’ve played cards. He’s also made sure I know all the dance steps that we’ll see tonight. Unfortunately, regardless of his lessons, I’ve still managed to step on a few feet,” she said with a wave of her hand. “But it’s not as if I didn’t warn you.”

“You did a fine job of dancing,” he replied.

Flowerbeds covered both sides of the walkway just before a private garden room, into which Leighton guided her. An ornamental iron trellis adorned a cottage wall overlaid with ivy above a matching seat designed for two.

“You are kind to say so,” Georgia said. “In fact, I have to wonder if the rumors about you are true.”

“And what rumors are those?” he asked.

“That you’re a rake of the worst kind.” The ornate seat looked inviting to rest her weary feet, but she thought better of lingering in the gardens too long.

“Of the worst kind?” He chuckled. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“I suspect so, because you don’t seem so bad to me,” she admitted. “Of course, I’m not a very critical judge.”

“Miss Duvall, I find your honesty quite invigorating.”

“I don’t deserve that compliment, because if you really knew how dishonest I was you wouldn’t say things like that.” She’d backed herself into a corner—she couldn’t openly confess that she had wanted to meet him just for an introduction to his father and had to think of another reason. Some other way to convince him to be her friend, which might offer her the opportunity she wanted.

She gazed up at him. Firelight splashed against his chiseled features. It was easy to see why women swooned at his feet, although she wasn’t similarly affected. Only Will made her swoon and her heart race, it seemed.

“How are you being dishonest with me, Miss Duvall? I’m quite curious. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

The man was inordinately handsome, and titled, too. Many women would enjoy a kissing lesson or two from him.
That’s it!
She could tell him about her kissing lessons instead of her desire to meet his father. “If you promise not to tell a soul, I’ll consider telling you.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“I wouldn’t want you to die over it.” When she looked into his dark eyes, she spotted tenderness, and somehow she felt a kinship with Lord Leighton. It didn’t make sense, only her gut had never let her down before. However, speaking of kissing might be a tad too scandalous—even for her. “I don’t know what it is, but for some reason I trust you. I shouldn’t, of course, because of your reputation, but I think you’re trustworthy so I’ll tell you.”

“Your compliments are as refreshing as your honesty.” He gave a slight bow in assent. “I confess I’m humbled.”

“The truth is,” Georgia said politely, “I asked Lord Grandleigh to allow me to wear trousers and ride astride…” Expecting him to give some kind of response, she paused, but when he didn’t, she continued. “He refused at first, but I finally convinced him.”

Leighton raised a curious brow. “I’m sure you had to work hard to sway him.”

Her eyes searched his for a moment. “I did actually. Will is… He’s a nice man.”

“Will?”

“Yes, Lord Grandleigh. I know I’m not supposed to call him by his given name, but I forget.”

“This is the secret you’ve entrusted me with? That Grandleigh has allowed you to ride astride?”

“Well, yes, it’s a rather large secret, don’t you think? And he certainly doesn’t want me telling anyone. He thinks it’s scandalous and didn’t exactly allow it. He just understands me—to a certain degree.” She cocked her head to the side, struggling to read the expression on his face when so much darkness surrounded them. She hoped being somewhat honest without revealing too much would garner his trust and afford her the opportunity to meet his father.

“And how did…” He cleared his throat. “Since we are being honest, how did he allow it exactly?” Lord Leighton looked behind them, then down the path they’d walked and into the trees beyond. “I feel as if there’s more to the story.”

“There’s nothing more to tell, my lord.”

“Come now, sweet Georgia.” He leaned in closer to her. “I think you know exactly what I mean. Does this have something to do with racing? I’d like to know more about you wearing trousers and riding astride.”

“I’m allowed to ride astride during training runs—I told you that. That’s all there is to tell.”

Suddenly, she heard Will’s voice. “What the bloody hell is going on?”

Leighton hastily stepped backward.

“Will?” Not sure if she was imagining his presence or if he was real, Georgia shook her head.

He strode so fast he nearly ran into her. The closer he got, the easier she could see his red face.

“Strolling in the gardens with Lord Leighton will get you nothing but ruined!” He grabbed hold of her forearm and pulled her back.

“There’s no need to yell, Will.” She looked down at her arm, where his grip coiled around her wrist. “You’re hurting my arm.”

“If you’re intent on being ruined, I’ll do it myself.” His face was inches from hers.

One particular vein popped out on his forehead, and Georgia realized she’d never in her entire life seen a man so angry. A quiver of fear raced through her limbs. “You’re scaring me.”

“Grandleigh,” Lord Leighton called out. “Unhand her.”

Will’s gaze softened. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, but his voice took on a staccato rhythm. “You can’t be with Leighton like this, or any man. Not without a chaperone.”

He let go of her arm.

“We need to go now,” Will said, then turned a lethal gaze on Leighton. “I’ve a mind to call you out for this or at the very least insist you marry her.”

Leighton held up his hands. “Grandleigh, I—”

“Not one word. Not one bloody word.” He put his arm out for Georgia. “Come now. I’ll take you home.”

…

Will couldn’t see anything but red. And to make matters worse, he’d clearly frightened Georgia. Yes, he had a temper, but never had he completely lost it like this. Well, except the time he’d slugged Oliver, who he thought had ruined his sister. He hadn’t of course, and in this case he knew Georgia wasn’t ruined, but the fact of the matter was,
he
wanted to be the one to ruin her.

He wanted to make love to her.

And that was the crux of his problem.

Oliver had trusted him to tutor her, make a good match for her, and see her introduced into society. And look what he’d done—he’d done his job too well. Every single man in the county wanted her. At least that’s how it looked to Will.

It was well past midnight, and an unnerving silence encompassed the carriage. He didn’t want to say anything to Georgia with her maid present, because they could be considerable gossips, so he waited and let the time in the carriage cool his temper.

When they arrived at Autumn Ridge, Will told Eloise to go inside. “Miss Duvall and I have business to discuss. She’ll be along shortly. Leave her nightclothes out, or whatever it is you do.”

“Yes, my lord,” Eloise said and ran off like a frightened vole.

He dismissed the butler and escorted Georgia into the drawing room. Once inside, he locked the door behind them.

“I think you’ve frightened her,” Georgia said.

“Who?” Will asked distractedly. The air was dense with her lilac scent. He wanted to breathe the scent of her body until he was drunk with it.

“Eloise. My maid.” Georgia peered at him. “What is the matter? Leighton didn’t kiss me, although I think he was about to.”

“Yes, I’m certain he was about to.” He paced around the soft, blue, cornucopia-armed sofa and stoked the fire in the hearth. “What were you doing alone with him in the gardens?”

“I only wanted to take a stroll,” she murmured. “I wasn’t prepared for him to kiss me, but if he had, I wonder if I’d have had the same feelings as when I kissed you.” She gazed pensively across the room. “I doubt it.”

“What feelings?” He gripped the poker in his hand but wanted to toss it across the room.

“You know how I got light-headed and jittery inside. I had to sit down, remember? That’s never happened to me before. If Leighton had kissed me, would the same thing have happened?”

His gut churned into knots. Placing the poker back beside the hearth, he swung around. “You wanted Leighton to kiss you?”

“No.” Shaking her head, she continued, “I was merely suggesting that if he had, I might know—”

Throwing up his hands, he interjected, “Yes, yes. If you’d get light-headed. Do you understand it’s not appropriate—you shouldn’t even be alone with men who are eligible and aren’t a family member.”

“I’m alone with you now.”

“That’s because Oliver trusts me, and we’re somewhat family.” It was interesting the way she maneuvered the conversation to be about him rather than the subject at hand, which was appropriate behavior at house parties. “You know you’re to be chaperoned.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. I do know.” She sighed. “But the truth is I was hot, so I asked Leighton to take me outside to cool off. Don’t blame him.”

She looked so damned serious, so enticing, standing there in her shimmering blue gown that, in his opinion, showed entirely too much cleavage. “You were hot?”

“Well… Yes. I’d been dancing practically nonstop. And while I’m used to being active from working with the horses, I’m not used to being in such a heavy dress and running around a stuffy, crowded ballroom. My day frocks are much lighter and aren’t so tight in the bodice.”

“Georgia, you really need to stop… Oh, never mind.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What is it?”

“You shouldn’t talk about bodices in my presence. With your lady friends, fine, but not with me.”

“You just said we’re somewhat family. If I can’t speak freely amongst my
family
, then what is the point?” She tossed her hands up then slumped into the round cushions of the sofa. She leaned over her lap and placed her head in her hands.

Strands of her wavy hair fell loose, and he yearned to reach out and touch her.

The idea made him momentarily halt. He wanted to do much more than merely touch her, but it was so wrong, so very wrong. She was meant for another man, not him. She wasn’t capable of assuring his place amongst the
ton
; in fact, if he married her, he’d likely be where he’d been two years ago in the eyes of Londoners. He couldn’t go back there.

He sat on the end of the sofa, keeping an appropriate distance between them, like a gentleman ought to. “You’re absolutely correct. You should be able to speak freely. I was only trying to advise you in what’s considered respectable.”

She lifted her head from her hands, her eyes wide with interest. “Did you really mean it when you said you’d ruin me yourself?”

Uncertain how to answer the question, he blinked several times, wondering if he should come up with a lie or tell the truth. He’d lashed out when he said the words and never intended to voice his desire. However, since she was being truthful, then he should do the same. “Yes. When I said it, of course I meant it.”