Chapter Twenty-Seven

G eorgiana was restless. Hiding away in Marbury might be convenient, but it was only putting off the inevitable. Currently, the ton was diverted by Hazard squiring Alice about. Mama wrote that she had voiced some reservations about their scheme, but that Viscount Haslet’s attention apparently benefitted Alice’s prospects more than standing in Georgiana’s shadow had. If that was meant to make her feel better, it didn’t. And she knew she’d have to face down the gossip eventually—the ton wondering whether she had rejected yet another perfect suitor or that Lord Taverston had failed to come up to scratch.

People should have more important things to talk about.

There were numerous beautiful places to walk on the Marbury estate. The village was small and safe. The library was splendid, not as large as that at Sayles, but still, splendid. Even so, she was not satisfied to while away the hours in quiet, not the way she had been after her first failed Season. Now she knew what she wanted, and it was not this.

She had just spent an hour idly practicing the piano. But that made her think of Crispin’s effortless playing which had not been effortless at all. She could not stop thinking of the Taverstons. She could not stop pining for Reginald.

She tried reading one of Father’s astronomy books but could not concentrate. Disgusted with herself, she took a novel into the drawing room, curled up on the davenport, and read. It was not as fatuous as she’d expected. In fact, she was becoming rather engrossed when Fenton, their butler, appeared at the door.

“My lady, you have a caller.” His face was rigid with disapproval. “A gentleman caller. A Lord Taverston.”

Georgiana tensed. What was he doing here? She’d told him no. How did he even find her? Oh, good Heavens. Olivia must have told him where she was.

“I’m not receiving callers.” She had a good reason, even if it was rude of her. “Lady Millicent is not at home.”

Her father’s widowed cousin had made her home in Marbury. She was a little batty and fairly deaf, but she served the purpose of chaperone very well, especially as no one called on Georgiana in Marbury except the elderly curate and his wife and a few ladies from the village. But Millicent had gone into town to shop for a new bonnet to add to her collection.

“Very well.” Fenton evidently approved. He spun on his heel to send Jasper away.

Georgiana tried to read again, but the book had lost its appeal.

Fenton returned, carrying a package wrapped in brown paper.

“The gentleman asked me to bring you this. He said his sister wishes you to have it.”

Wonderful. The Italian had followed her home. But it was kind of Olivia to think of her. She gestured and Fenton came and handed it to her. She untied the strings. Unwrapped the brown paper.

The Principles of Analytical Calculation.

Georgiana’s heart stopped. She could barely speak, yet managed to murmur, “Has he gone away?”

“No.” Fenton pursed his lips. “He is awaiting a response, I gather.”

“Show him in.”

The butler huffed loudly but went to fetch him.

Georgiana sat up straight and set the book on the table, wringing her hands. Decorum, she reminded herself. She knew how to behave. She did. She’d let him say his piece and decide from there.

The butler opened the door. “Lord Taverston,” he announced.

“ Mr . Taverston,” Georgiana said, rising and going to greet him. He had that unshaven appearance again and his hair was windswept from his ride. She offered her hand. He bowed over it. She said, “Fenton, that will be all.”

The moment he was gone, Georgiana shut the door. She turned the lock. And she threw herself into Reginald’s arms.

“You came.”

He answered with kisses. Flooding her with kisses. Backing her up against the door. They kissed as before, but Reginald was even more…insistent than he had been at the folly.

“Forgive me,” he murmured against her throat.

“Yes.” She would have said more, but he scooped her up and carried her to the davenport. He set her down, kissing her without ceasing. His hands roamed over her back, her shoulders, and then her breast. This time she wasn’t startled. She made a noise, but it was more of a moan than a gasp, and it didn’t prevent him from continuing. Somehow he loosened her gown by her shoulder and slid it down, down, then he began kissing her through the thin fabric of her chemisette. When his mouth tightened over her nipple she cried out.

“Stop?” he asked.

“No!”

He laid her down, crowding beside her, parting her thighs with his knee, while continuing to kiss her and be kissed by her. At the same time, breathing heavily and pushing his thigh close against hers, he also gathered up the folds of her skirts in one hand, pulling them up, exposing her legs. Then he slipped his hand under the material and caressed her skin.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said. His voice did not sound like his own. It sounded raw.

She said nothing. She definitely did not want him to stop.

He began stroking her thighs. Like tickling but nothing like tickling at all. And then he touched her between them, bringing his hand to the most private part of her. He kissed her mouth and her neck and her breasts while continuing the strokes. She gave up trying to suppress her moans and couldn’t keep herself from moving, straining against his fingers. What he was doing felt so good. Until it was unbearably good. And then shattering.

Moments later she was still quivering even after he’d moved his hand softly to her side and his kisses had gentled.

“I’m going to London to speak with your father.”

“Yes.” She twined her arms about him, almost perfectly contented. “That will be interesting.”

“Will he be very disappointed with me?”

“ What? ” Georgiana’s cheeks heated.

“Oh, Georgiana, no!” He laughed. “I’m not telling him this .” He went on more earnestly. “I mean, will he be disappointed I’m not Jasper? Not an earl?”

Her poor father would be more confused than anything else. “At this point, I think both my parents will be thrilled if a gentleman asks for me and I say yes.” Then she teased him. “You are asking me, aren’t you? I don’t remember hearing the words.”

“Did you open your book?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Did you open the pages? I wrote the question on the flyleaf.”

“I suppose I was too impatient to see you.”

His eyes glowed. “Too impatient to look at Woodhouse’s pages? I’m flattered beyond belief.” He rolled aside and sat up. “I should go. I want to reach London tonight.”

“Don’t go yet.” She didn’t want him to leave. Surely they weren’t finished. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“More?” He shifted and put his hand on her thigh. “Were you disappointed?”

She heard a caress in his voice. This was a side of Reginald she did not know existed. It was seductive. Rakish, even. An urgent curiosity flushed through her.

She murmured, “I think you know what I mean.”

“I do. Which is why I had better leave immediately.”

“Please don’t.”

He swore under his breath then slid down beside her and began kissing her again. This time she tried to concentrate rather than losing her head. She kissed him back with more confidence. She listened to him, to the sounds he made. She felt the way his thigh pressed against her hip and realized he was as aroused as she was.

“What do I do?” she asked. “What would you like me to do?”

He groaned. “Say you will marry me. Soon.”

“Yes, of course. You know I will.”

He unbuttoned the fall of his trousers and pressed her hand inside them.

“Just…there. Like that. Like that.”

He rocked against her. He started kissing her again, rocking harder, squeezing her breast, rocking faster. Georgiana was fascinated. She felt warm and melting and wished…everything. That they could do these things over and over and over. She wished she knew how to make him feel the way he had made her feel. It seemed that he was too much in charge and she was contributing very little.

He turned from her abruptly, with a sharp cry, shuddering. He faced away from her for a moment, then stuffed a handkerchief into his pocket and rebuttoned his fall. He got to his feet.

“Georgiana, I have to leave now. I have to go see your father. If I stay longer, if we do anything more, we risk an eight-month babe. We are giving the ton too much fodder already.”

He did not sound seductive now. He sounded embarrassed. And Georgiana was embarrassed as well. She didn’t like to be ignorant. And he obviously was not. Part of her was glad that he was better informed, but part of her…

“How do you know what to do?”

He flushed deep red. “It isn’t calculus.”

“I think you know what I’m asking. I’m sorry, Reginald, but I feel—vulnerable, I suppose. I don’t want to be naive. Just tell me.”

He didn’t answer right away, but finally said, “If you are asking if I have a mistress, the answer is no. Did I ever have one? Yes. She dropped me over a month ago. She had a better offer. I was not unhappy about it. In fact, I had been inattentive for many months. Georgiana,” he chewed his lip, then went on. “I am not…needy in that way. At least, I wasn’t. I find myself quite desperately needy for you. It’s nice, actually.” He seemed to be musing to himself. “Reassuring.”

“Reassuring? I don’t understand.”

He smiled, a little ruefully. “Good. You may forget I said that.”

“Although maybe I do. Mother called it a spark . I hadn’t ever felt it before I met you.”

“No? Good. And that’s exactly what I mean. No spark. But this—” He gestured to that invisible cord between them. “Is a conflagration.”

“How soon can we be married?”

“Assuming your father says yes? That will depend upon you. If you’d like a big London wedding, we should wait at least three months. A year if we’d like my mother there, which I would, but I will not wait a year.”

She shivered. “The last thing I want is a big ton wedding.”

“Then the sooner the better. I’ll get a special license. Crispin suggests we sneak over to Ipswich and ask the curate there to marry us. Quickly before Tibury leaves for his new post. But Jasper says that’s asking too much of Mother and the church in Iversley will do very well.”

Jasper says . Another wave of happiness swept over her. She asked the question she had been afraid to ask. “Jasper does not—he’s not upset?”

Reginald smiled. “He was ‘miffed.’ For about thirty seconds. But he is exceedingly happy for us. Truly.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” She had not caused a rift. She couldn’t imagine things being more perfect. “Then let’s get married in Iversley. As soon as you can get a license. Do you think a week?”

“You’re delightfully impatient.”

“I don’t want to wait.” Then she could imagine it being more perfect. She swirled her finger over the back of his hand. “We’re going to have a very interesting honeymoon.”

“Are we?” he asked huskily.

She nodded, laughing. “Remember? You promised to read Woodhouse with me.”

*

Ten days later, Reginald and Georgiana were married in a private ceremony officiated by Mr. Brindle. Only family was invited so that the bereaved Countess could attend. Their impatience to be wed surprised everyone, which Reginald found a little embarrassing, but at this point, having waded through the awkwardness of asking for her hand when the Duke was clearly expecting Jasper, Reginald was past caring. He wanted Georgiana now—in his life and in his bed. They had not seen each other since Marbury, and although they wrote to one another daily, it wasn’t enough.

Jasper stood as best man, which was funny in a way that Crispin would not have hesitated to point out had he been there. Reginald wished he could have been. His absence was the only thing about the day that felt wrong. The future might be a little iffy, but the day was otherwise perfect. They even had sunshine.

When Georgiana appeared in the doorway of the church, in a simple dark blue dress with flowers woven into her hair, Reginald was overcome with what had to be joy. The smile on her face showed him she felt the same.

Mr. Brindle had been warned by Jasper to keep the service short, so as not to tax Lady Iversley. They said their vows, exchanged their rings, kissed one another chastely before God and man, and then hurried out the door and into the waiting carriage. The carriage was for form’s sake. Everyone else would walk the short distance home.

Reginald laid his hand on Georgiana’s knee. “I thought today would never get here.”

“Me, too. Everything has been taking so long! I don’t remember Mr. Brindle speaking so slowly before.”

Reginald laughed. As the carriage lurched to a start, he picked up her hand and kissed it. The closer their wedding night, the more impatient he had become.

“Just the wedding breakfast to go, then we can leave for Binnings.”

Crispin had volunteered his cottage for their honeymoon. The caretaker would have everything ready for them. The next month would be bliss.

Georgiana smiled at him, tentatively, looking a little shy. He thought she was thinking of tonight. God knew he was. But she evidently had something else on her mind. Her chin tilted down and she looked at him from lowered lashes.

“Reginald, what is this about going to live in Bath?”

“Bath?” He cleared his throat. He’d mentioned this to her, hadn’t he? “I have a house there.”

“So you told my father. Your aunts live there?”

“Great aunts. The house is large enough to accommodate them, too, and they’re lovely. You’ll love them.”

“I don’t doubt that. But…” She sighed. “Tell me what your plans are. The whole of it. What you told the Duke. Honestly, this is something we should have discussed before you went to see him.”

He flushed. He hadn’t been thinking so far ahead when he saw her in Marbury, but he’d had to present his case to the Duke as a reasonable one. He wasn’t a fortune hunter. And he wasn’t some sort of apologetic offering the Taverstons were making to the Stewarts after Jasper changed his mind. Both those fears, the fear that the Duke might think either, had reared up on his journey to London to ask for her. He didn’t think he’d overstated his case, but something about it had evidently bothered Georgiana—not enough to delay the wedding, but too much to discuss in a letter.

“I merely assured him that I can take care of you.” He didn’t know how he could be embarrassed talking about finances with her after all they’d gone through, but he was. “I don’t have Jasper’s resources, but I have a house for us, and Bastion will pay me a small stipend.” Upon marrying, he would lose his university fellowship, but to his immense gratification, his mentor volunteered to pay him for the work. “It’ll tide us over until the living in Framingham—”

“Stop. Stop there. That’s what my father said. Reginald! What on earth? A rector ?”

“Yes, well,” he ducked his head. “It’s a respectable position. I can work on my translation for a couple of years and then…” Grow up? The Duke had seemed more concerned about his youth than his lack of a title. Which had been somewhat amusing since most people who knew Reginald considered him an old soul, not a youth.

The carriage bounced over a rut and Georgiana clutched his arm, though perhaps the two things were not related. She was scowling in an exasperated way.

“That was a worst-case scenario. You don’t want to be a clergyman.”

“I need a profession. It’s a pragmatic decision, the right decision.”

“A decision we should make together. Here is my plan. After Binnings, we lease a house in Cambridge.”

“I don’t think I can afford that. It’s all right. I can work from Bath. And I can’t sell the place. It’s my aunts’ home.”

“Of course, we won’t displace your aunts! Honestly, Reginald. I’m allowed an opinion too. You needn’t take on that ‘lord and master’ role just because you’re my husband.” She frowned, shaking her head. “We have my dowry. And don’t you dare say you won’t touch that because that’s what it’s for.”

“I told your father we’d put that in trust for our children.”

“We’ll put some of it in a trust. Reginald, please listen. If you wanted to be a rector, I would support you wholeheartedly. That is what I’ve been reared to do. Support my husband. Run his household. As long as you are that husband, I’m content to follow wherever you lead. Except to a place you don’t want to go.”

He blinked. He wasn’t marrying her to ‘run his household.’ He hadn’t considered—how could it be that he hadn’t considered her wishes? He’d been so concerned about appearing worthy of her that he was behaving in a manner unworthy of the gift she had given him: her love, her trust.

“Georgiana, I’m so sorry. I suppose I told the Duke what I thought he wanted to hear. I needed him to say yes.”

“My parents have only ever wanted me to be happy and secure. I told my father you had the offer of the living, but that I didn’t want you to take it. I said you’re a brilliant scholar of classics and mathematics and you’re going to read Woodhouse with me. Possibly Fluxions as well. And that one of these days, you’d be a Don.”

“Lud,” he groaned. “I’m surprised he didn’t rescind his blessing.”

“He laughed. He said knowing me that made a lot more sense than what you were saying. He offered to buy us a house in Cambridge, but I told him we’d lease for now. Who knows? We may end up in Oxford.”

“Georgiana—”

“We’re going to live near the university, and you will translate those manuscripts and maybe tutor a promising student or two in addition to reading with me. And we’ll go to lectures, and hold dinner parties for your brilliant colleagues, and build ourselves a marvelous library. And then you will write your book.”

“My…book?”

“Explaining those manuscripts to the rest of the world.”

“To the six or seven people in the world who would care?”

She nodded, beaming at him, and he felt a bit of a weight lifting from his heart that he hadn’t even realized was there.

“Come here,” he murmured, pulling her onto his lap to kiss her, quickly, because the carriage was already pulling up to the entrance to Chaumbers. They were going to be very, very happy together. “You are much smarter than I am. So I think we should go with your plan.”

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