Chapter Thirteen

George.

George was here .

Her George, the man she had come to love with an intensity that scared her, had tracked her down to this tiny town where her daughter lived. It oughtn't to have been possible, and she looked around for an answer. Some reason to his presence here.

At her dumbstruck silence, he smiled. "I see you weren't expecting me."

"You should have been in London."

"I left approximately . . ." He checked his watch. "Eight hours ago."

A carriage was at the other end of the street, four horses waiting patiently in front of it. For him to have reached her by the afternoon, he must have left very early.

"Your mother told me where you were," he explained. "Before you fire up at her, she had no intention of doing until I explained that I knew about your daughter and wished to marry you."

He'd said that to her mother? Her knees felt alarmingly like jelly, and if he had not taken her arm, she might have fallen onto the cobblestones. Everything had happened so fast—and George had found her. Here. Against all odds.

He knew about Jacqueline .

"I don't understand," she said. The only phrase she could bring to mind.

"Then let me make everything perfectly clear, Caroline. The last time, you caught me off guard and I fudged things, as Louisa was kind enough to inform me, but this time I shall do things right." His warm blue eyes smiled at her. "If you had stayed a little longer, I might have had a chance to explain that should my father cut me off, I will not be destitute. Moreover, given my father's health and decline, I'm confident that we would not lose much by waiting until he passes. There's little he can do to my inheritance from beyond the grave."

"But—"

"I'm not done." He took one of her hands, gloveless, and spread her fingers. "I love you, my stubborn, infuriating darling. And I would marry you in a heartbeat even if you were ten years my senior and had fifteen children."

I love you.

The words scorched her on their way down her throat, as though she was breathing in smoke from a fire.

"Fifteen children would be too many," she said, and sniffed. "But I have a daughter. I was selling your gifts in order to provide for her. Are you not angry?"

He drew her in closer until the heat from his body soaked through her. "Extraordinarily," he said against her hair. "Why did you not tell me immediately? I could have done so much more for her if I had only known."

She pushed back so she could see his face. "You would have provided for my daughter?"

"Did you think I wouldn't? My darling, I have already made arrangements to pay whatever remains of her dowry."

For perhaps the first time in her life, she was speechless. Perhaps she hadn't thought he would reject her outright—he was liberal minded, for a man—but she had never thought he would accept Jacqueline as his own.

"Are you serious?" she managed.

"Utterly. You have consumed my every waking moment since Worthington. I am a man possessed, and a broken heart does me no credit. Louisa informs me I've become gloomy."

All of the things she wanted now within grasp. It seemed too good to be true. Still. For his sake she should advance the last of her arguments. "I'm five years older," she said.

"You don't look a day over twenty."

"You're a liar."

"But a charming one."

That, she couldn't deny. "And what if I am unable to have more children?"

"I've given it some thought and I've decided that I have no need for heirs. Not if I can have you." He made as though to embrace her, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. People were already staring. "You are not as old as you think you are, Caro. And if we have no children together, at least I shall have a wife who loves me for more than my title. It's always been a dream of mine, foolish romantic that I am."

She did not think she could love him more. "An honourable dream."

"Will you help it come true?" He pressed her fingers to his lips, the gesture making her heart stutter. Something warm erupted in her belly. "You've been taking care of yourself and everyone else for far too long. Let me take care of you." The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "So long as you don't object to living in sin first."

Tucking her hand in his arm, she led the way back to his carriage. If they remained in place much longer, she wouldn't be able to resist throwing herself in his arms, and that would make people talk. "What about your father?"

"I'll tell Forbes—his butler—to send me another list of eligible females. He'll be delighted that I've come around." His voice was dry. "Meanwhile, I will feed you strawberries and wake up beside you every morning. What more could a man want?"

"I can think of several things," she murmured, sending him a speaking glance that made his eyes flare. A delicious burst of heat crawled across her skin.

There was no way she could deny him now. No further reason she could think of to want to.

"Did you come here in a coach?" he asked.

"I rode."

"Excellent." As they reached his carriage, he clicked his fingers. "Warwick?"

A head poked out from the other side of the horses. "Yes, sir?"

"Lady Augustus has a horse stabled here. Arrange for it to be taken back to Lady Rowland's stables." He reached into his pocket and tossed a coin bag at the man. "Cost is no object."

"Yes, sir."

"Did you see Jacqueline?" George asked as he handed her up into the carriage.

Caroline swallowed the thick, heavy feeling in her throat. "I did."

"And?"

"She looks happy."

"Good." He squeezed her hand. "Then you won't object to bringing her to London next year to stay with us?"

"George—"

"I won't hear any opposition, you know," he said, closing the door behind them and shutting the curtains. "I know you love me."

And she had tried so very hard not to let it show. "You are insufferable," she told him, attempting to make her voice severe.

"Absolutely." He kissed her knuckles again. "But I'm insufferably yours. Now, what do you think to ten thousand?"

"Excuse me?"

"Jacqueline's dowry. Respectable, but not so much that she falls prey to fortune hunters. But enough to overcome any significant doubts about her birth."

"Ten thousand ?"

"I can afford to, you know," he said.

"It's not a question of whether or not you can afford it, George, but—" She hardly knew where her opposition was coming from. This was everything she had every dreamt of. The security she had not allowed herself to crave.

His smile fell away, and he reached for her, bringing her onto his lap and holding her tight against him. "Let me make one thing plain," he said, kissing her cheek. "If she is yours, then I will love her; and if you wish to provide for her, then I will hand you the means to do so. That is love, Caro."

When Lord Berkley, young and handsome, had whispered lines of adoration to her in the orchard, as he pushed up her skirts and took her against a tree, she had believed it was love. Yet at the first obstacle, when pleasure dissolved into obligation, he fled.

Somehow, George was still here, pressing tender kisses to the side of her face, brushing away her tears with gentle fingers.

"There is nothing you could do to persuade me not to love you," he said, and Caroline gave into the inevitable. She turned her face into his, catching his mouth with her lips, and his hand came to her jaw, holding her against him with just the right amount of pressure.

"How can I say no now?" she asked.

"Frankly, my darling, I hope you won't."

"It won't be easy," she warned, shifting her hips closer to his. "I love you too much to bear you with any lady but me."

"That was not even a consideration."

She kissed along his jaw. "I can be crotchety and demanding."

"As though I was unaware."

She laughed then cupped his face. "And I shall demand strawberries even when they are out of season."

"Then we shall travel to warmer climes." His hand slid down her side, and his thumb dug into the flesh of her stomach, holding her against him so she could feel how aroused he was. Her head spun at the feeling. How long she had been denied—how little she would have to be denied now. "Whatever you need, whatever you want, whatever will make you happy, I will do it."

"Can I deserve you?"

His lips brushed her neck. "I think the real question is whether I can contrive to deserve you."

"Oh, darling." She tipped her head back, giving him access, giving him everything. "You already do."