The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere by Anna Bradley

Epilogue

Mill Street, London

Two months later

“Faster, Lord Benedict—faster!” Sarah let out a delighted squeal, her arms tightening around Benedict’s neck as he neared the newly planted quince tree at the bottom of the garden.

“For pity’s sake, Sarah, will you hush?” Benedict came to an abrupt halt and peeked around the slender tree trunk, which wasn’t yet large enough to hide their antics from Georgiana. “I told you, if Lady Haslemere hears us shouting and happens to look out the window, she’ll scold us until our ears ring for running footraces in the garden.”

Marriage hadn’t tamed Georgiana’s tart tongue. Benedict, who delighted in her scolds, wouldn’t have it any other way. Lecturing turned her eyes the most fetching shade of mossy green.

“Eh, we’re safe enough. She’s all the way up in the attics with the little ones, teaching them their sums.” Susannah dangled Benedict’s pocket watch on the end of one finger, watching it swing back and forth with covetous eyes. She was meant to be timing the race, but she seemed far more interested in pilfering his gold watch than anything else.

“They’re a dim lot, they are. She’ll be up there with them for ages yet.” Sarah bobbed up and down on Benedict’s back. “I wish we had a bridle for him, Susannah. That would be capital, wouldn’t it?”

“A bridle! You do realize I’m not actually a horse, don’t you, Sarah?” Good Lord. Georgiana had warned him not to spoil these girls. Perhaps he should have listened to her.

“’Course I do,” Sarah scoffed. “Yer Lord Benedict.”

That wasn’t quite right either, but Benedict spent so much time at the school the girls, who’d come to look on him as a sort of benevolent uncle, had given up on calling him Lord Haslemere. They’d settled instead on Lord Benedict, a moniker that never failed to make him smile.

They were the wickedest, naughtiest girls imaginable, of course, and took shameless advantage of him, but Benedict couldn’t resist them. He wanted a half dozen more of his own just like them, all of them with Georgiana’s hazel eyes.

“Never mind a bridle, Sarah. A handful of his hair will do just as well.” Susannah gave an approving nod as Sarah grabbed hold. “Right, then. Once around the garden. If ye get back to the tree in less than three minutes, ye get to keep your guineas, Lord Benedict. Longer than that, and—”

“You lose, and we get to keep ’em. Giddyup, Lord Benedict!” Sarah dug her heels into Benedict’s legs, shrieking with laughter when he took off like a shot. Susannah chased after them, hopping up and down and shouting as Benedict flew up the garden toward the fountain where all the walkways converged. He was just about to round the perimeter, panting with exertion and laughter, when a tall, slender figure emerged from the pathway leading from the back door of the school.

A tall, slender, frowning figure, her arms crossed over her chest.

Benedict came to a skidding halt just in time to avoid slamming into her, but not quickly enough to prevent Susannah, who was right on his heels, from crashing into him. She fell onto her backside with an ignominious thump and Sarah, whose balance had been upset by the sudden collision, dropped down on top of her.

Georgiana peered down at the two girls, her lips twitching. “Well, if that isn’t a fitting end for a forbidden footrace, I don’t know what is.”

“Aw, we weren’t doing any harm.” Susannah jumped to her feet and dusted off the back of her skirts. “Were we, Sarah?”

“Not a thing, Miss…er, yer ladyship. Just having a bit of fun with Lord Benedict here.”

Georgiana raised an eyebrow, and held out her hand.

Sarah and Susannah glanced guiltily at each other, then Sarah stuffed her hand into her skirt pocket, pulled out the two guineas she’d hidden there, and dropped them into Georgiana’s palm.

Georgiana’s fingers snapped closed around the coins. “Return Lord Haslemere’s pocket watch to him this instant, Susannah,” she ordered, waiting until Susannah reluctantly handed over the watch. “Thank you. Now, aren’t you two meant to be in French class right now?”

The girls exchanged another guilty glance, then Sarah muttered, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Then I suggest you get upstairs at once, before Madame takes a fit. You’re already late as it is.”

Sarah glanced at Benedict, who did his best to produce a forbidding frown. “Do as Lady Haslemere says, you mischievous imps.”

The girls scurried off, leaving Benedict alone with his wife, who, despite her frown, couldn’t quite disguise the amusement in her eyes. “Well, Lord Haslemere? What have you to say for yourself?”

“Not a blessed thing.” Benedict held his hands up innocently. “Unless it’s that the Clifford schoolgirls are the most ill-behaved in all of London. It’s a scandal, the way they’re constantly leading me astray as they do.”

“They led you astray, my lord? How curious. I suppose they stole those guineas and your watch out of your pocket, too.”

Benedict crept closer to her. “As to that, who can say?”

“I imagine you can.” Georgiana’s tone was stern, but there was no mistaking the twinkle in her eyes. “Really, my lord, I would think you’d have learned your lesson about spoiling those girls by now.”

Benedict edged another step closer—close enough so her skirts brushed against his legs. “It’s not me who needs to learn a lesson, Lady Haslemere. It’s you.”

“Me?” Georgiana pressed a hand to her chest. “Why, what lesson am I meant to learn, my lord?”

“Not to interrupt a footrace already in progress, of course.” Without warning, Benedict lunged for her and swept her up into his arms. “Once it’s begun, it must be finished. Fortunately, one jockey does as well as another.”

“Benedict! Put me down!”

But Benedict didn’t put her down. He raced down the garden with her laughing, shrieking, and squirming in his arms. Once they reached the quince tree, he set her carefully on her feet, her back against the trunk. “Ah. Now this is a proper reward for a race well run.”

“There are a dozen little girls upstairs in the attics waiting for me to teach them their sums, Lord Haslemere.” Even as the protest left her lips, Georgiana’s arms were already stealing around his neck.

“I’m afraid they’ll have to wait.” Benedict braced his hands against the tree on either side of her head and pressed his body close to hers. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

“You’re never finished with…” Georgiana trailed off with a soft gasp as Benedict’s lips found her neck.

“Damn right I’m not. I never will be.” He brushed the collar of her gown aside until he revealed bare skin, then proceeded to nibble and lick and kiss her until she melted against him, a sigh of surrender falling from her lips.

“So sweet, princess.” Benedict settled his hands on her waist and nudged a knee between her legs until her delectable curves were flush against the length of his body. “I could spend every minute of the rest of my life tasting you, and I’d die a happy man.”

Georgiana’s breath caught on a moan when he brushed his thumbs over her breasts, her head falling back against the tree. “But you can’t…we can’t…”

“Hmmm? Did you say something, Lady Haslemere?” Benedict sealed his lips over hers before she could answer, a desperate groan tearing from his chest as he delved into the sweet, hot depths of her mouth.

He took her mouth again and again, his blood surging. In an instant he was utterly lost in her, so much so things might have gotten scandalously out of hand if he hadn’t dimly registered the sound of a window opening, followed by an explosion of high-pitched giggling.

He tore his mouth from Georgiana’s and peered around the tree. Sarah, Susannah, and Abby were hanging out a window, giggling and nudging each other until they were in danger of toppling from the second floor into the garden below.

“Those troublesome girls have caught us out again.” He pressed one final, lingering kiss on Georgiana’s lips, then drew back. “Can’t a lord kiss his lady in peace?”

Georgiana buried her face in his neck, her lips curving against his skin. “This is the Clifford School, my lord. Prying eyes are everywhere.”

“This school needs a private garden,” Benedict grumbled, dropping a final kiss on her forehead.

“A private garden, or a bigger quince tree. But you’ll have all the privacy you require when we’re at Haslemere House. Patience, my lord.”

Benedict snorted. “If you think we’ll have privacy with Freddy and Augustus running about, you don’t know little boys as well as you do little girls. And that’s to say nothing of Jane, Clara and Draven, Cecilia and Darlington, and Lady Tilbury. I’ll never have you to myself for a moment with such a crowd interrupting us at every turn.”

They’d planned to spend the school break together alone at Haslemere House, but then Jane had insisted she and Freddy join them so she might become better acquainted with her new sister, then somehow the invitation had been extended to Clara and Draven and Augustus, and now…well, all of bloody England was spending the month of June at Haslemere House.

“Oh, dear. I think I forgot to mention I invited Sophia and Lord Gray as well.” Georgiana peeked up at him from under her lashes, biting her lip. “Are you cross with me?”

Benedict brushed a lock of hair back from her forehead. “No. I could never be cross with you, princess. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy too.”

Georgiana smiled up at him, the hazel eyes he loved so well glowing with love. “I am happy, Benedict. Happier than I ever believed I could be.”

Benedict cupped her cheeks in his palms, pressed a tender kiss to her lips, and whispered, “And if I have anything to say about it, you’ll stay that way, Georgiana. Forever.”