Chapter Eighteen

August took a seat beside Lady Georgina, having no idea what they might discuss.

It surprised him that they sat in companionable silence for several minutes. He closed his one good eye, aware of her body heat next to him, that subtle scent of roses which always clung to her tickling his nostrils. This wasn't reality. It never could be. But for a few brief moments, he was truly content.

Finally, she broke the silence. "I just posted a letter to Mirella."

August opened his eye, ashamed he was only now realizing he had not seen Lady Mirella at any of the ton events which he had attended.

Lying, he said, "I know she has not been in attendance this Season. Did she change her mind about making her come-out with you?"

She sighed. "It was a twist of fate which made the decision for her."

Lady Georgina went on to explain how she, her sister, and mother had been strolling along the Serpentine in Hyde Park and how, due to the slick ground, Lady Mirella had slipped and fallen, breaking a bone in her forearm and also her elbow.

"I know the elbow, in particular, can be a painful bone to break," August noted. "I had more than one of my men break theirs during battle."

"I have stopped myself from asking you, but what is battle truly like? As a civilian, I cannot begin to imagine it." She bit her lip. "And I am also ignorant of the politics behind it. This war has gone on for so long. It seems it has been raging on my entire life, and yet I understand so little about it."

He ignored delving into the causes of the war and merely said, "Officers receive more training than the average soldier. We are to keep our heads at all times, especially in the heat of battle. Frankly, there are many tedious hours that run over days. Even weeks. And then, swift orders come down, and the carnage begins in earnest."

"Who makes the decision on when to fight?" she asked, and he saw she wasn't merely being polite. She truly seemed interested in knowing the answer.

"It goes to the very top commander. In my case, being stationed in Portugal and Spain, that meant Wellington. The army is organized regarding its ranks. There were a few times I was allowed into Wellington's tent in order to see the battle plan and directly hear what our orders would be. An officer of my rank, that of captain, would lead men into battle. We have infantry, which consists of foot soldiers, and the cavalry, which ride their horses into battle."

The thought of horses caused him to shiver, the memory of being pinned under one flooding him with a sudden swiftness that stole his breath, and he shuddered.

Lady Georgina placed her hand atop his. "I am sorry I asked. I should not have been so forward as to do so. I have brought up terrible memories for you."

"I have never spoken to anyone about them," he admitted, not daring to look her in the eye. "I took risks. Risks that almost always paid off. The day I was injured, though, it was a series of unfortunate events which I could not have prevented, much less protected myself from."

He grew quiet, drawing strength from her hand against his—and decided he wanted to tell her what had happened to him.

"I was leading a charge. We had engaged with the enemy twice the day before and were weary from those encounters. We were outnumbered, as well, but that had never stopped Wellington from being aggressive on the battlefield. Cannons fired all around us. Soldiers shot wildly, some bullets finding a target. Others fought in close proximity, hand-to-hand combat with their bayonets."

This time, it was Lady Georgina who shuddered. "I cannot imagine being as close to my enemy as you and I are at this moment. Using my bayonet on human flesh. Being stabbed to death must be a terrible way to go."

"I feared on that last day that would be my fate," he said quietly. "A horse charging by me was struck by a bullet, its rider tossed over its head. The horse fell." He paused and then added, "On me."

He heard her quick intake of breath and finally faced her.

"You were trapped beneath that horse, weren't you?" she asked astutely.

August nodded. "I was pinned. Helpless. I lost the pistol I carried but held fast to my saber. Ensnared, I was confronted by a French foot soldier. He was not going to stab me and be done. He wanted to slowly slice me to ribbons. Cause me to suffer in the worst way."

Her hand tightened on his damaged one.

"With his first strike, I threw up my arm to protect myself. That was when I lost the fingers. The pain was greater than anything I could have imagined. While I cradled my ruined hand to my chest, he struck again. You are witness to the results of that second blow."

Instead of pity, he saw sympathy in her eyes.

"You must have escaped, or you wouldn't be sitting here with me now."

"Fortunately, one of my men saw my predicament and rounded back to rescue me. When the Frenchman raised his saber again, my man ended his life."

"You owe your life to this soldier."

He nodded. "I do. And to the others who came to my rescue. They managed to lift the horse enough to pull me out. Took me to the makeshift hospital. That was the last time I fought for crown and country. I was told I was not fit to continue as an officer, and so my commission was sold for me while I was fighting for my very life."

August swallowed. "A majority of men do not die from the wounds they receive on the battlefield. It is the infection which sets in which kills so many. I was one of the lucky ones who managed to escape that horrible fate."

His gaze met hers. "There have been countless times, though, when I wished I had not survived."

Lady Georgina squeezed his hand again. Then she lifted it to her lips and pressed a soft kiss against the stumps where his missing fingers had once been. The gesture moved him greatly, and his throat swelled with unshed tears.

She returned his hand to his lap, saying, "I have worried about such trivial things my entire life. Whether to buy a blue ribbon over a pink one. If I should practice Bach instead of Mozart. Deciding how to arrange a group of flowers. Hearing what you have gone through makes me see how silly my life truly is."

"Do not belittle yourself and any concerns you have had, my lady. You are operating with the sphere of your position in society. But what of Lady Mirella?" he asked, wanting to move away from the war. "Is she healing well?"

"I believe she is. She will have to wear the hardened plaster two months, perhaps even longer. It makes her slightly off-balance, and she was forbidden to dance because of that reason. If there is anything Mirella enjoys more than dancing, I don't know what it is. She was not willing to compromise and appear at this Season and not be able to dance. Speaking of dancing, I see you are doing more of it, my lord. Perhaps you are seeing not everyone is repelled by your appearance and that there are good women out there."

"I believe my title and wealth are helping more than a few compromise themselves by dancing with me," he said lightly. "Perhaps, after all, someone will agree to be my marchioness. Changing topics, he said, "I just had a visit from Lord Blankenship before I came here."

"That is wonderful. You should start seeing your friends more often."

"Blankenship is one of the best men I have ever known."

August paused, searching her face for answers. "I thought at one time that the two of you might suit."

"And now?" she asked, seemingly holding her breath.

"He indicated that is not the case."

She expelled her breath. "I find Lord Blankenship to be a very fine man indeed. He is simply not the man for me, however. We can be friends—but nothing more than that."

Lady Georgina fell silent a moment, looking nervous. Finally, she asked him, "Are we friends, my lord?"

"No, my lady. I cannot be your friend."

Her face filled with distress. "Why?"

"Because friends do not wish to do this."

August lowered his lips to hers, grazing them lightly. As he did, her hand tightened around his. He brushed his lips against hers, thinking he could die happily having done so. He moved his mouth to the roundness of her cheek, kissing it. Her soft temple. Moving to her ear, his teeth tugged on her lobe, and he sensed her shiver.

She released her hold on his hand, framing his face and bringing his lips back to hers. She was the one kissing him now, having learned from their previous encounter what to do and what he liked. He allowed her to take the lead now, enjoying the feel of their mouths together.

Then she used her tongue to tease open his mouth, hers plunging inside, seeking something from him that he was afraid to give her. Still, this opportunity to kiss her would never occur again, and so August decided to make the most of it. His hands went to her waist, and he lifted her into his lap, his arms steadying her. Her hands remained on his face, her thumbs stroking his cheeks as she continued to kiss him.

He could no longer hold back and became an active participant in the kiss. His tongue stroked hers, and he heard her contented sigh.

They continued to kiss deeply, and his hand moved up and down her slender back. He wanted so much from this woman and yet knew it would be wrong to take anything more. The discipline instilled in him, which he had been so proud of his entire life, crumbled, though.

August wanted to make a memory with her which would last a lifetime. He slipped a hand beneath her gown's hem, slowly massaging her shapely calf. She must have enjoyed his touch because the kiss intensified. He worked his way up to her knee and then danced his fingers along her thigh, finally reaching his destination.

He ran a finger along the seam of her sex, causing her to gasp into his mouth, breaking their kiss. He gazed into her eyes, seeing desire—and yearning—in them.

"I am going to touch you," he told her, low and rough. "You will let me. You will like it."

She nodded in understanding.

August thought to kiss her again and then decided he would rather gaze upon her as he brought her tremendous pleasure. He was most skilled at bringing a woman to orgasm this way. At least he had been years ago during his carefree bachelor days.

He caressed her intimately, watching her wet her lips as he did. She wriggled a bit in his lap, and he pushed a finger slowly inside her. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then her lips curved into a smile.

"Ooh. That feels . . . so good."

"Give me time and it will feel the best you have felt in your entire life," he boldly declared.

He continued touching her, caressing her, another finger joining the first, stroking her deeply. He listened as her breathing increased rapidly. She whimpered. Moaned. Writhed beneath his touch.

August sensed she was about to peak and knew it would be disastrous if they were overheard, so his mouth seized hers again, his tongue imitating the motion of his fingers.

She climaxed, shuddering violently, gasping for breath. He broke the kiss and watched her face as she moved her hips against him. Finally, she stilled in his arms, and he withdrew his hand from her.

When she opened her eyes, he saw her dazed look. "That was incredible. The most... moving experience of my life."

She leaned toward him and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. Withdrawing, she added, "I am beginning to see what Pippa means and why she is so satisfied in her marriage to Seth."

Talk of marriage frightened him. August wanted this woman desperately, but he would be a gentleman and not tie her to him, ruining her life. Easing her off his lap, he set her on the bench beside him, lowering and smoothing her gown.

Standing, he said firmly, "This must stay between us, Lady Georgina."

"I understand, Lord Edgethorne. Will you be at tonight's musicale?" she asked.

"It is a possibility," he said, having already replied he would attend, but not certain if he should after what had just passed between them. If anything, August needed to put further distance between himself and Lady Georgina.

She rose. "Then I hope to see you there, my lord." Looking hopeful, she added, "And perhaps we could meet here at noon tomorrow. I think it would be a lovely day for a picnic."

Picnicking with this beauty was the last thing he should be doing, yet all his willpower dissolved.

"Yes," he agreed. "Allow my cook to provide the food for us."

"Then if I do not see you tonight, I will again at noon tomorrow," she said. "Goodbye, my lord."

August watched her walk away, fighting the urge to chase her down and kiss her all over again. He realized what a fool he had been.

It had been staring him in the face this entire time—and he had ignored it—until now.

He was in love with Lady Georgina Strong.