The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere by Anna Bradley

Chapter Twenty-four

Mill Street, London

Ten days later

“You mean to tell me, Georgiana, that Miss Beauchamp saved Lord Haslemere’s life with a bedcurtain?”

“Well, there was a bit more to it than that, but yes. Lord Haslemere was mere seconds from toppling out the window when Miss Beauchamp tossed him one of the bed hangings, and he crawled back in.”

Emma plopped down on the window seat beside Georgiana. “That must have been an extraordinary bed hanging.”

“It was. Heavy silk, attached to a monstrous oak canopy. Lord Draven is an earl, after all. Don’t all earls have grand beds with silken bed hangings?”

“I don’t have the faintest idea what earls have.” Emma glanced at Georgiana out of the corner of her eye. “I think you’re more qualified to answer that question than I am, dearest.”

It was the fourth time Emma had offered Georgiana a not terribly subtle invitation to confide her adventures with Lord Haslemere, and the fourth time Georgiana had failed to do so.

There was a part of her that longed to rest her head on Emma’s shoulder and release the unbearable tension that had been building inside her these past ten days—all her worries and misgivings, her hopes and dreams—but she hadn’t any idea where to start.

With the murderous Duke of Kenilworth? With Clara Beauchamp and Lord Draven, and the love story that had risen from the ashes of a tragedy six years ago? With the newly widowed Duchess of Kenilworth, who’d gained her freedom on the same day her son had lost his title and inheritance?

Or did she start with Benedict, the charming rake who wasn’t truly a rake at all, but a wonderful, honorable man who’d somehow managed to burrow so deeply into her heart she couldn’t draw a breath without thinking of him?

It was all so complicated, and touching, and wretchedly emotional she was sure to end up dissolving into a sniveling puddle of tears right here. Emma would be shocked, and a scene was sure to follow.

Georgiana detested scenes, and so she said nothing at all about any of it, but gestured instead to the garden outside the window, hoping to distract Emma. “I mean to put the eldest girls on tidying up that garden at once. It’ll be a lovely place for us to walk in the spring and summer, won’t it?”

“Hmmm. Lovely, yes.”

Georgiana waited, but Emma didn’t elaborate. “These window seats are perfect, aren’t they? So many handsome bow windows in one house, and each with its own window seat. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“Hmmm. Lovely, yes.”

“So spacious, as well!” Georgiana went on, growing desperate. “Just think, Emma! Five large bedrooms on both the second and third floors, and all the common rooms on the ground floor besides. The attics will make a lovely schoolroom for the younger pupils, won’t it?”

“Hmmm. Lovely, yes.”

“For pity’s sake, Emma!” Georgiana threw her hands up in exasperation. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Oh, did you want me to say something more, Georgiana? Very well, then. I’ll say this. I’m extremely cross with you.”

“Me? Why, what did I do?” Georgiana tried to summon some dignified outrage, but her voice lacked conviction. She knew what she’d done, and if she’d been in her right mind, she’d have known Emma would never let her get away with it.

“I’ve been gone from London for ages, Georgiana. Ages, with no one but—”

“Such dramatics, Emma. It’s hardly been ages—”

“Ages, with no one but Lady Crosby for company. Lady Crosby, Georgiana, who for all her kindness is sixty years old if she’s a day. I’ve tatted enough lace to last me a lifetime, and—”

“I don’t see what’s so terrible about tatted lace—”

Emma held up her hand for silence. “In that time, you’ve bested a wicked duke, saved his duchess, reunited an earl with his long-lost love, and fallen in love with Lord Haslemere, and you have the nerve to sit here and talk to me about gardens and window seats?”

“I don’t see what’s so terrible about gardens and—”

“Don’t you dare, Georgiana Harley. I don’t want to hear another word about window seats. I have only one day to spend with you, and you’ve already wasted most of it with your dithering. I demand to have the entire story this instant. Start with Lord Haslemere.”

Georgiana stared at her friend with wide eyes. Emma didn’t often fall into tempers, and one didn’t like to argue with her when she did. She’d be gone soon, as well, back to Lady Crosby to finish whatever business she’d undertaken for Lady Clifford. If Georgiana didn’t confide in her now, she’d lose her chance.

Emma took her hand and ducked her head so she could see into Georgiana’s eyes. “Come now, dearest. I can’t bear to see you looking so sad.”

I’m not sad. I don’t get sad, I don’t weep, and I don’t…I don’t…

Georgiana tried to push the words off the end of her tongue, but her chin was wobbling, and tears were stinging her eyes, and…and… “Dash it, this is all Benedict’s fault.”

Once a lady wept for a man once, she was certain to do so again, especially a man like Benedict Harcourt.

Emma’s eyebrow ticked up at Georgiana’s use of his Christian name. “Dear me. What did he do?”

“Why, the most horrible thing imaginable!” Georgiana gave a pathetic sniffle. “I can hardly think it, much less say it.”

“Oh, no. Is it as terrible as that?” Emma’s eyebrow twitched, just as it always did when she was concerned. “Tell it to me quickly, like when you have the stomachache and Winnie makes you drink one of her dreadful potions.”

“He tricked me!” Georgiana wailed, covering her face with her hands. “He’s so much cleverer than I ever dreamed, Emma, and so funny and caring and lovely, and he has such handsome eyes and such a sweet smile, and before I even knew what was happening, he—”

Emma pulled Georgiana’s hands gently away from her face. “He made you fall in love with him.”

“I was told he was a rake! I was led to believe he was a rake, and he isn’t! Or, he was once, I daresay, but he isn’t now, and I—I was duped into falling in love with him, Emma!”

Emma rolled her eyes. “No one will ever accuse you of being a romantic, Georgiana. But I don’t see what’s so terrible about falling in love, unless…does he love you, too?”

Georgiana wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “He told me he did, but at the time we were…he said it under unusually intense circumstances.”

“You mean he said it while the two of you were engaged in—”

“No! My goodness, Emma!” Georgiana blushed to the roots of her hair. “He said it right after he climbed back through Lord Draven’s window, mere seconds after escaping certain death. I daresay he would have said he loved whoever happened to be on the other side of that window.”

“Did you believe him to be sincere at the time?”

“I…did.” But then, what did she know about declarations of passionate love? Not a thing. She did know about common sense, however, and she could easily believe Benedict’s words had been the truth of a moment only.

“But you’re no longer sure of him.”

Georgiana sighed. “Let’s just say it’s far easier to believe he loves me when he…”

When he’d been holding her tightly in his arms, pressing kisses to her temple, and whispering in her ear. But that had been more than a week ago. She and Benedict had returned to London that evening. He’d left her at the Clifford School with a dozen longing kisses, but he hadn’t repeated his protestations of love.

She hadn’t seen him since.

He’d returned to Oxfordshire at once with Jane, Freddy, Lady Tilbury, and Augustus for a grand reunion with Clara and Lord Draven. Jane and Clara were both adamant the two boys would come to love each other as brothers, and Lord Draven had been anxious to express his gratitude to Lady Tilbury.

It was bound to be a joyous occasion, but it was one for family only, and Georgiana wasn’t family. She wasn’t…anything, and that wasn’t even the worst part.

Not for the first time, Emma seemed to read her mind. “There’s something else worrying you, isn’t there?”

“I…I don’t know how to fall in love, Emma.”

“My dear girl, it sounds as if you already have.”

“Very well, then. I don’t know how to be in love.”

Georgiana expected Emma to laugh, or shrug and say that was nonsense, that everyone knew how to fall in love, to be in love, but that wasn’t what she did.

Instead, a shadow passed over her face. “It amazed me, how quickly Sophia and Cecilia fell in love. Like it was nothing, as easy as falling into a field of daisies, or leaping into a cool pond on a summer’s day. I wonder what that must be like.”

There was a note of awe in Emma’s voice. She stared at Georgiana for a long moment without speaking, then she swallowed and turned away. “Love requires trust, and vulnerability. That’s not something that comes easily to either of us, is it?”

“No.” Georgiana bit her lip to smother the wretched tears that were threatening once again. She did trust Benedict, and she was grateful to him. Perhaps he would break her heart, but he’d brought her closer to love than she’d ever thought possible.

There was something—surely there was something meaningful in discovering one had a heart to break?

Emma tried to smile, but she looked melancholy as she rose to her feet with a sigh. “I told Lady Crosby I’d be back by now, but before I go, there’s one thing I want you to think about.”

Georgiana reached up to squeeze the hand Emma lay on her shoulder. “What is it?”

“You do know how to fall in love, Georgiana. You’ve already done that part. So don’t give up now, dearest. You’re halfway there.”

Emma bent down to kiss her cheek, and then she was gone, leaving Georgiana alone in the window seat, staring out into an overgrown garden. She remained there for a long time, watching the shadows lengthen.

The building was perfect, everything Georgiana had hoped it would be. All she’d wanted when this adventure with Benedict began was this building, a school for her girls, but now…she couldn’t pinpoint the moment when it ceased to be all she needed to make her happy.

But here she was.

It was getting late, and Lady Clifford would be expecting her home, but perhaps she’d take a little wander upstairs first. It might cheer her up, and in any case, she wanted another look at the bedchambers to see if they might fit a desk in with the beds.

She lit a candle, mounted the stairs, and wandered down a long hallway on the first floor toward one of the largest of the bedchambers tucked into a back corner of the house. It was a spacious room with an attached sitting area, and had likely served as a grand bedchamber for some Earl of Haslemere or other.

There were still a few stray bits of furniture lying about, so Georgiana set her candle on a dusty table and, starting from one corner of the room, began to measure off the number of steps it took to reach the other corner. One, two, three…

Ping.

Four, five…

Ping.

She looked up at the noise, frowning. Dash it, it was interrupting her count. How many steps had she counted off, four or five? She retraced her steps to the corner and began again. One, two, three—

Ping.

Georgiana froze mid-step, her head jerking toward the window. That sound, it was familiar, like…pebbles hitting the glass. She flew toward the window, her heart rushing into her throat as she pushed aside a dusty, tattered drape.

And there was Benedict, standing on the dim street below as if he’d appeared there by magic. He was gazing up at the window, and as soon as he saw her a breathtaking smile rose to his lips, and he clasped his hands to his chest like some lovestruck hero in a Gothic romance.

Then he crooked his finger at her.

Georgiana’s knees were shaking as she ran into the hallway and down the stairs. She tried to tell herself to calm, to remind her heart he might have come here to tell her goodbye, but it continued to flop about in her chest like a fish out of water.

Or no, no that. That wasn’t a romantic image at all.

A fish in love?

Oh, Emma was right. She was hopeless when it came to romance, but love…well, that was something else altogether, because as soon as she lay eyes on Benedict beneath the window, her heart sprang to instant life, soaring inside her with such power and grace she might have skipped the stairs entirely, and floated to the ground floor below.

Benedict was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, arms open wide.

Georgiana didn’t hesitate. She didn’t pause to think or doubt or reason, but flew down the stairs and threw herself straight into his waiting embrace. “You’re back! Why didn’t you send word you—”

That was as far as she got before Benedict’s lips were on hers, his kiss deep and wet and desperate, as if he’d been waiting a lifetime to kiss her. “God, I missed you so much, princess,” he choked out between kisses, burying his hands in her hair. “It’s been weeks and weeks.”

“It hasn’t even been two weeks,” Georgiana protested, grinning against his lips.

“This is no time for math, Georgiana.” He let out a low chuckle, his hands falling to her waist to tug her against him. “Anyway, it feels as if it’s been years. I’ve been dreaming about tasting you since I left Draven’s this afternoon. The ride to London nearly drove me mad.”

“You, ah…you missed me, then?”

“Missed you?” Benedict gave her an incredulous look. “There I was at Draven’s, Jane happier than I’ve ever seen her, Draven and Clara annoyingly in love, and Freddy and Augustus like brothers already, and all I could do was pout and snap at everyone, because all I wanted was you.”

Georgiana peeked up at him from under her lashes, suddenly shy. “Really?”

“Yes, really, you maddening woman. Jane finally lost patience with me. She said I wasn’t fit for company, and sent me back here to you.”

Georgiana toyed with the buttons on his coat, avoiding his eyes. “I thought perhaps you’d thought better of…that you’d changed your—”

“No.” He tipped her chin up and gazed down at her with dark eyes so filled with love it brought tears to Georgiana’s eyes. “Never. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, because I’m mad for you, Georgiana. I love you to distraction, and I intend to…are you crying? Again?”

Georgiana threw her arms around his neck. “I love you too, Benedict, more than I can ever tell you.”

“Show me, then.” He pressed another kiss to her lips, his eyes twinkling. “Marry me at once, and we’ll get to work straightaway on giving Freddy and Augustus the cousins they’re demanding. They’ve asked for six, all of them girls.”

“What?” Georgiana gaped at him, her cheeks on fire. “No, they didn’t! They’re too young to ask for such a thing.”

“Well, I might have helped them along a bit. Here, Jane sent you a letter.” Benedict rummaged around in his coat pocket and handed it over. “And Freddy sent you this,” he added, placing a thick, wooden object into her palm.

Georgiana turned the puzzle piece over in her hand and a laugh bubbled up in her throat. “Italy? He sent me Italy?”

“Well, you did say you fancied it. He was quite taken with you, you know, but then all of the Haslemere gentlemen end up smitten with exceptional ladies. He’s anxious to see you, but he’ll have to wait, because no one is more anxious than I am, and I need you all to myself.”

“Indeed? How intriguing. What did you have in mind?” Georgiana asked, stroking her thumb over his bottom lip.

“Oh, I was thinking a wedding, followed by a marriage, a half-dozen children, and a school full of willful little girls.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the tip of her finger. “What do you think, princess? Do you think you’d like to be Lady Haslemere?”

Georgiana took his beautiful face in her hands and touched her forehead to his. “I’d like to be yours.”

He groaned, and took her mouth again. When he broke away, they were both panting. “If we keep this up, Brixton will have my head.”

“Daniel? What’s he got to do with it? I hope you two aren’t quarrelling again.”

“We never stopped quarrelling. I went straight to the Clifford School when I arrived in town, searching for you. After delivering a great many threats and casting dozens of aspersions on my character, Brixton finally told me you were here, but if we don’t return soon, he’s bound to come after me. The man’s a menace.”

Georgiana tried to look stern, but her lips were twitching. “I think you both enjoy baiting each other. Daniel will be content enough once we’re married, though. Who are you going to wrangle with then?”

“Why you, of course.” He planted a sweet kiss on the tip of her nose. “Though I confess I have quite a different sort of wrangling in mind.”

Georgiana rested a hand on his chest and felt the steady beat of his heart against her palm. His brave, true, honorable heart. “There’s nothing I want more than a lifetime of wrangling with you, my lord. But are you certain you want a wife with such a sharp tongue?”

He gazed down at her with warm dark eyes. “I want everything you are, Georgiana. Your sharp tongue, your hazel eyes, and your insatiable appetite for preserves. I want everything with you.”

“You have it,” she whispered, her hands curling against his chest. “Everything I have, everything I am, is yours.”

Georgiana opened her mouth to say more—to tell him he’d already given her everything, even those things she didn’t know how to dream of—but her throat ached with happy tears, and her heart was too full for words.

So she rose to her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips that said more than words ever could.