Chapter Fifteen

T hroughout the luncheon, Gigi picked at her food. Though the company was pleasant enough, and Lord Grantley certainly paid her enough attention that it should have made her happy and ready to drag him off to a private spot, she couldn't seem to let herself relax enough to enjoy the day.

"You are quite distracted, Miss Hasting, even though I'm doing my level best to engage you in conversation and pull you in with my charm." Amusement threaded through the viscount's voice.

"I apologize for being poor company, Lord Grantford." With a sigh, she glanced at him, for he didn't deserve her fractured interest. "My appetite has been poor the past few days, and outside of keeping watch on the girls, the afternoon is rather dull." She breathed in deeply then let the air ease out. "To say nothing of the fact that I don't belong here."

"At the fete?"

"No, the village, the community, within the church." Waving a hand to encompass the happy chattering gathering, she sighed again. "Do you ever feel as if everyone around you is committed to something you have either no idea about or no interest in?"

"Many times." He broke off a piece of a biscuit and held it to her lips until she took it into her mouth. "I have never enjoyed bucolic life. Why Thomas insists upon it when he could be back in London, having the existence he was born to is beyond me."

"Perhaps he wanted more than being merely the son of a viscount." When she sought him out with her gaze and watched him talking and laughing with Miss Partridge, a part of her died inside. "Now he'll marry a woman with connections and is well liked in the village, who understands the importance of the Church and religion, a woman suited to his life as a vicar."

"Now that I find difficult to believe." When he met her gaze, Gigi gave him a half-hearted smile. "Perhaps you feel out of sorts because the countryside doesn't fully do justice to your soul, and it certainly doesn't highlight you as a woman."

"But that's just it." She laid a hand on his arm, and when his muscles tensed beneath her fingertips, she immediately withdrew. "I should be comfortable here. It's where I live, where my parents live." Was it boring here? Yes, of course. Would she rather be in London where there were constant entertainments, glittering jewels, and pretty gowns? Also, yes, but sometimes life didn't work like that.

"Humans, I think, can survive many things, especially when there is a reason to do exactly that, a motivation of sorts." One of his golden eyebrows rose in question. "Do you have that, Miss Hasting?"

Heat went through her cheeks. "You refer to Thomas."

"You brought him up; I did not." The viscount lowered his voice even though there was enough conversation and laughter swirling around them that it was doubtful they'd be overheard. "If I may be so bold as to posit that you wouldn't appear so upset about our good vicar taking a bride if you didn't have feelings for him."

"That is another thing that is so confusing," Gigi admitted in a choked whisper. "I have known him two weeks. That isn't enough time to form a tendre, let alone fall in love."

"Ah." He leaned close so that his lips brushed the shell of her ear. "Yet it's enough time to chase scandal with the man, to allow him certain… liberties?"

The heat from her cheeks migrated throughout other portions of her body. "Sometimes there is an undeniable connection between two people, and it is folly not to act on it." If it made her sound deranged or depraved, so be it. "Does that equate to love? I rather doubt it. Infatuation, perhaps, but since Thomas's life is his own, he can court and marry anyone he wishes, especially if she is better suited to his work than I am."

And it made her heartsick all over again.

"I see." Lord Grantford frowned. "Have you spoken to Thomas about how you feel?"

"Of course not. He is stubborn and has specific views of what the Church expects from him." She gasped at the pain around her heart. "I cannot compete with that; neither can I change his mind." Across the green, Miss Partridge was apparently doing her level best to monopolize Thomas's time while the girls sat on either side of him with matching scowls. Obviously, the woman hoped to set herself up to be his wife. Many of the older people in the congregation were already happy with the prospect. Seeing her with him only solidified that in their minds. "I can bear witness to this no longer." As she shot to her feet, the viscount stood too.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

A wicked light had entered his eyes. "Would you like company? I've been told I am a rather wonderful distraction."

For a moment, Gigi knew a bit of indecision. In the past, she would have been overjoyed that such a handsome, titled man had shown an interest in her, and for scandal, to boot. Yet now, all she could think about was losing Thomas. "I appreciate the offer. Truly, but…"

He nodded. "I understand. Perhaps once you put the heartbreak of the vicar behind you and you realize there is still much that life can offer you? When you realize that many of us consider you beyond worthy already?" After he dug into a pocket of his jacket, he withdrew a card. "Write to me at this address. I will drive here, scoop you up, and carry you back to London for adventures, both carnal and otherwise."

That tugged a grin from her, and she felt almost her old self again. "I appreciate that. Thank you." As she tucked the card into her reticule, Gigi left the village green at a brisk walk with no particular destination in mind.

*

Fifteen minutes after she'd taken refuge in the back garden of the vicarage, the sound of her name in his voice sent gooseflesh racing over her skin.

"Genevieve? Are you out here?"

Of course he had followed her. It was both comforting and annoying. With a huff, Gigi turned about to face him. "What do you want, Thomas? Won't Miss Partridge be disappointed you chased after another woman?"

"Miss Patridge has no bearing on my life at the moment." There was an intensity to his eyes she didn't trust, but it made her anticipate the meeting, nonetheless. "I wanted to speak with you, for you have proved elusive the past four days."

"Whose fault is that?" Refusing to feel guilty, Gigi went deeper into the garden.

Fruit trees laden with growing apples as well as other ornamental trees blocked out some of the sunshine, while a hedge formed the rear boundary of the space. Bushes and other shrubberies hosted berries as well as birds who enjoyed feasting on said berries and the flowers within. Beneath the lifted arms of the trees rested a wooden bench along with a gardener's table. The man who kept the garden tidy came to the vicarage a couple times a week, but he'd left the tools of his trade on the tabletop: pail, gloves, trowel and spade, a couple of smaller pots containing cuttings of various plants and flowers. Between the rear of the space and the back door of the vicarage, many groupings of flowers, bushes, and shrubs made pleasing arrangements to wind through when one wanted a peaceful interlude.

"While I will admit to being much of the issue, you have to take some agency as well." He followed her through the garden, the heels of his boots scraping against the crushed shells and gravel that made up the path. "But talk we must."

Though every part of her wished to race into his arms, if he only wanted her for the physical release, if he considered her too tainted by scandal to remain in his life, Miss Partridge was welcome to him. "What is there to converse about? You said everything you had to say. There is no room for rebuttal. That leaves me with nothing."

"I can appreciate how you might view the problem." Tension brewed in the air between them. How could he stand there so calm and composed when her belly was in knots, her thoughts jumbled, her world crumbling because she wasn't good enough to either remain with the girls as their governess or be with him in any other capacity than a quick toss in the hay?

For lack of anything intelligent to say, and detesting the silence, she blurted, "You certainly seemed comfortable at the fete. No doubt you charmed your way through the afternoon and will do so tonight for the dancing."

He snorted. "I'm not one for dancing any longer, but when I lived in London, it was part of my everyday schedule, especially during society events." His voice was so low, she barely caught the words. When he turned her head and found her gaze, stark longing lit those depths for the space of a few heartbeats. "However, effective dancing depends entirely on the right partner."

"Have you found her, then?" Did he regret the time they'd shared and was too much a coward to admit it? Did those couplings mean nothing? Do I mean nothing to him? Hot panic welled in her chest. She wanted to flee but remain in his company, for already their time together was limited.

"That remains to be seen, for there have been other things clouding my mind of late." Though he didn't make a move to close the distance, there was no mistaking the desire in his eyes.

Why was he such a puzzle to read? "Miss Partridge seems lovely. I hope the girls take a liking to her."

"Ha. At present, both Penny and Lily do not care for her, because she isn't you."

"Ah." A curl of pleasure unfurled in her stomach, but she strove to keep her expression impassive. The girls were loyal, it seemed. "Perhaps they shall come 'round. When, uh, will you begin courting Miss Partridge?" A waver entered her voice, and she despised that weakness. It didn't matter to her what he did with his life.

Did it?

"As soon as possible, I'd imagine. Especially since I expect a visit from someone higher in the Church than I to check on me." His Adam's apple bobbed with a hard swallow. "I am not pleased with the timeline."

"I don't blame you." It was as if they chatted like strangers, never going deeper than congenial conversation. Not seeing him or being with him for four days had left her feeling quite ragged about the edges. "Ah, Lord Grantford has offered to host me on a visit to London, should I wish to try my luck in Town after I'm let go from my position here."

"Well, he's a good sort, and he is everything you are searching for in a husband." When he met her gaze, there was a frantic need in those stormy gray depths that called to something in her. "The two of you will make a wonderful match."

"What if I don't want that any longer?" she finally whispered, circling the edges of the truth. Tears welled in her eyes. "Is this where you and I will end, then? This horrid talking about things that don't matter?" She drew in a shuddering breath. "Besides, being here alone with you is not proper, and don't you want that above all? It's why you created the rift between us in the first place." There. At least some of what bothered her was out in the open.

"Damn, Gigi, how can you say that?" He shoved a hand through his hair. At some point, he must have misplaced his gloves and top hat. " We're not proper. Never have been since the moment you stepped into my home."

She shrugged. "You are the one who told me I wasn't good enough, that I am somehow tainted and too scandalous to be in your life." A tear fell to her cheek. "And it's quite confusing because you are here, talking to me, when you should be with Miss Partridge."

"I left her with the girls, hoping they would bond. Told her I had a parishioner to attend to and would return in an hour." Thomas nearly spat out the words. "But I don't wish to speak of her right now."

"Then you should have thought about that days ago." She raised her hand in annoyance, thinking to slap him, but then thought the better of it. "In fact, you should never have taken me on as governess, for so much has happened between us, how can you expect me to forget it?"

"I don't." His eyes were stricken. "For I won't, but—"

"But you retain this nodcock idea of wedding the perfect woman worthy of the Church." She shook her head as a tear fell to her cheek. Why couldn't he see that no one was that? That even Miss Partridge was probably not what she appeared? "I wish you every happiness in life, Thomas, but we cannot continue to see each other. It is too painful."

"I agree in theory." His nod was curt. "Will you go to London, then?"

"Yes. In fact, after your sermon on Sunday, I'm going to pack my things and return home. We both require that distance between us." Tears sounded in her voice. "I'll spend a few days with my family and then write to Lord Grantford. I imagine once I come to know him better, he and I will have great fun together." And she scrubbed impatiently at the moisture on her cheeks.

"Bloody hell. No!" Thomas quickly closed the distance between them. He gripped her upper arms, gave her a little shake which forced her to look into his eyes. "Grantford is not who you deserve."

"Who do I deserve then? You have certainly rejected me, in part due to rumor and my own behavior—with you." Hot annoyance circled through her being, and her voice broke. "Well, I am done being told the only good woman is a proper woman or being shown that I'm only worth a convenient place for your prick."

"That isn't it… I never meant to…" A string of emotions went over his face, but in the shade, it was difficult to read them.

Gigi waved a hand. "Don't trouble yourself. We were never meant to have forever together, but what we shared was—"

"Bloody hell. Stop." He caught her hands in his. "Perhaps I am a coward after all, but I want—need—to give you a proper goodbye."

"I would like that as well." She stood there, peering up at him, the words she should have said sitting on the tip of her tongue. If she uttered them, they would make her far too vulnerable, and could usher in more hurt. "Thank you for the time we did have together…"

"Damn." Thomas took her into his arms and kissed her soundly. It was a hard and unyielding embrace, and it gave her back the life that had ebbed from her over the past four days. "Please remember me, Gigi. I fear I am making a huge mistake," he said between kisses that set her blood on fire and heated every inch of her skin.

"I could never forget you." With all decorum forgotten, she returned his kisses with her customary enthusiasm. Soon, she was as breathless as he.

"To hell with it. What is one more sin?" Before she could protest, he propelled her through the garden, through the plants and shrubberies and beneath the trees, until the worktable prohibited further movement. With a grunt, he lifted her, rested her arse upon it. Potted plants and the bucket of implements tumbled from the table and crashed to the ground with dull thuds. "Thank heavens I gave the staff the rest of the afternoon and evening off to attend the fete. We are much alone." When her legs naturally splayed, he settled between them, and cupping her face in his hands, he set out to kiss her senseless.

Oh, goodness, he will drive me mad.

One more taste, one more drink from his lips, one more time having his body crash against hers…

How can I walk away from him?

"This is wrong, and according to you, I am wrong for wanting it." Yet she slid her fingers through the hair at his nape in an effort to tug him closer, for his kisses were as intoxicating as wine. "You smell so good."

"And that yellow dress is lovely on you. It's quite a flattering color." Never did he cease in his intent to claim her. He treated her to deep, drugging kisses that imprinted his very essence into her brain, much like what she'd probably done to the swans and geese at the pond. When Gigi would have giggled, she couldn't, for that would mean stopping the kisses, but the embrace simply wasn't enough. God help her, she wanted all of him, needed to be with him, so she urged him closer.

"I need more of you than this position will allow," he whispered against her lips.

"I don't believe I told you nay to any of it."

With a growl that sent another wave of awareness over her, Thomas snatched her off the table and maneuvered her between the trees without breaking a new string of kisses. As her back connected with the wall, he deepened the embrace.

In the course of two weeks, she had met a man who'd turned her world upside down, who challenged her and wouldn't let her boss him. She'd fallen for his nurturing soul and spirit, had shivered into obedience by looking after his nieces, and in the gray depths of his eyes, she'd been shown a glimpse of a future she'd never realized she wanted… and now couldn't have.

How can I be expected to just forget him?

As tears welled again, Thomas continued to kiss her. He took away her tears, made certain she'd keep his memory alive and etched upon the very chambers of her heart, tried to convince her within that torrid embrace that this final coupling would be enough. And she was inclined to agree, except with each breath, panic and hurt came to life inside her chest, behind her ribs, and around her heart.

"Thomas, please." What? She couldn't very well beg him to choose her for everything that mattered when doing exactly that would destroy his life. He didn't deserve that, and she didn't want him to resent her.

"I know." As he nipped and licked her lips, he slid his hands to her thighs and hefted her up as if she weighed nothing. "Dear God, you are a fever in my brain, and in this moment, I hope never to be cured." Propped against the wall, her center aligned with his bulging erection, and he groaned even as she wrapped her legs around his waist. "We shouldn't do this."

"But we must. To end it." Despite her resolve not to fall victim to emotions, Gigi's heart broke again, into finer pieces than it previously had, for this was the last time she would see him, unless she accidentally came across him while visiting her parents. I can't think about that right now. "Show me that if circumstances were different, you would choose me."

"As if I haven't shown you such already." With eyes haunted by sadness, Thomas yanked down the bodice of her dress and the petticoat beneath, buried his face between her breasts, palmed them, and suckled the nipples until she moaned and squirmed against him.

Time was of the essence. If the housekeeper or a curious maid came back early, heard them, and decided to investigate, there would be hell to pay, and she wanted this joining more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life.

"Did I at least make a difference in your life?" She gave herself up to the feel of him against her, that sold wall of his chest, how the heat of him called out to her. With a sigh, she twined her arms about his shoulders. "Have I made you think any differently?"

"Was there any doubt? I have never met anyone like you."

"Oh." Yet she wasn't good enough for forever. Hot tears rose in her throat; they cut off her next words. This was exactly why she didn't believe in love. It did nothing to a person except give them a lot of heartbreak and those feelings of euphoria wouldn't last a lifetime anyway. "Just kiss me." So she would remember and ultimately forget.

"Gladly." Hefting her up again and pressing her harder into the wall at her back, Thomas kissed her as if she held the last drop of water and he needed it.

Despite the tears that fell to her cheeks, Gigi returned his kisses for all she was worth; she wanted this moment in time to last. When he delved a hand between them through yards of fine lawn to stroke his fingers along her sensitive folds, she very nearly tumbled into release sheerly from the emotional torment. "Yes, please more," she softly encouraged, and held him all the closer.

"I don't know if I can last through extended foreplay." Then his hand shifted as he wrenched at buttons to his frontfalls. "I want you, to feel you around me." And then the tip of his hardened shaft slid against her flesh, and she shivered.

"I want that too." A moan escaped her throat when that wide head glanced over the opening to her channel. Undeniable need coursed through her veins. She tightened her legs about his waist, dug the heel of a slipper into his buttock to encourage him forward, and the dear man didn't hesitate. He thrust once and deeply until he was fully seated. "Thomas!" Pleasure tingled through her being, but she died a thousand deaths to know this was final.

And goodbye.

"You feel amazing."

"Exactly that." And it was far too sad. Not wanting to see the pity in his eyes, Gigi closed her as she wriggled into a more comfortable position and held him tight. "I wish things were different."

"Yet we both knew going in this was impossible."

"The risk was worth it." But the loss was devastating.

With a half-cry, half-groan, he pushed into her with long, powerful strokes.

"Oh, yes!" Being joined with him was too much. All she wanted to do was cry, and soon she would break apart, yet she couldn't help but enjoy this one last coupling. His thrusts grew more frantic. Harder, deeper, faster he moved his hips, as if he sought to be one with her just as she did with him, and she worked to match his rhythm. Would it be declaring defeat if she changed everything about herself to become the woman he thought he wanted? Not knowing, but refusing to give up who she was merely for a man, Genevieve bucked her hips in time to his frantic movements. Even as her tears fell, for those precious few seconds, their breathing, their coupling, their souls aligned.

Everything was perfect.

"Damn, I'm gone." With a soft cry of protest, Thomas apparently fell over the edge. Warmth spread into her core, the very last of him she would ever share, but she didn't care, for she went too, hurtled there by a swift pinch to her own nipple.

The hard release smacked into her like a rogue wave, and a low-pitched scream left her throat, which quickly turned into soft, whimpering cries, for this was the end. And there was nothing she could do about it except collapse into him, clinging to his neck as if he might disappear.

"What am I to do, remembering you and knowing you are gone, knowing you are with another woman?" Her whispered words were so low and choked with tears, but she didn't care. It was how she felt.

And he could stop it all if only he changed his thinking… or she hers.

It was the devil of a puzzle, or perhaps a test from God.

Did that mean she'd failed, or had he? Not knowing, she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck as Thomas held her tightly against his chest, telling her with his body what he couldn't with his words, or so she wished to hope. Once more he protected her, and she sought that solace and peace, that shield from all the changes of life she'd fought so hard against.

How silly of her to think she could avoid them.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, but her breathing had long returned to normal, and her tears had somewhat dried.

Eventually, he released her and lowered her to the ground, kept hold of her until she found her footing. There was suspicious moisture in his eyes as he peered down into her face. "Thank you, Geneieve." He dropped a kiss to her forehead. "I wish you a good life and much happiness with Lord Grantford. You deserve that."

"And I hope you find everything you need with Miss Partridge." With hot panic rising in her chest, Gigi cupped his cheek—the last time she would ever touch him. "Your flock is fortunate to have such an upstanding and devout man leading them." She pressed her trembling, kiss-swollen lips together as she held his gaze while tugging her bodice back into place. "I'll return to the fete first, and I would appreciate it if you came along a bit later."

"Of course." He nodded and avoided her gaze as he fumbled with the buttons of his front falls.

"The girls will no doubt need some time alone, so I'll bring them back here for a rest and refresh. I will tell them my goodbyes and then escort them to you for dinner. In the morning, I'll leave for my home. No sense drawing this out."

I'm not strong enough for this. All the lives that were trapped in upheaval simply because she wasn't the proper society miss everyone expected her to be.