Yes, he loved her.
“Merry Christmas, Gigi.”
26
Georgiana
Georgianasippedonhersteaming cup of chocolate, the warmth of the creamy, bitter drink, lightly sweetened with sugar, infusing her entire body. She smiled over her porcelain cup, taking in the merriment floating around her at the Jennings’s breakfast table. Felicity and Felix were laughing at some obscene joke Felicity had just made, and Lydia was doing her best not to laugh at—and encourage—her raucous daughter. Fitz was quiet, as he usually was, but his lips were curved up as he cut into the cold ham on his dish. It was a lovely Christmas morning, infinitely better than the ones she had grown up with.
It would have been a tad better if she hadn’t slowly floated to consciousness this morning, only to find herself alone in her husband’s bed, his spot cold. She wished she could have woken up next to him. She imagined a sleepy Fitzwilliam was an adorable sight. Hair mussed, bleary-eyed, and freckled—probably blushing. Yes, adorable.
After she had hurried back to her chamber and readied herself for the day, she had found him, unsurprisingly, in his study. All disappointment had fled when he’d flashed a bashful smile her way and they had walked together to the breakfast room. It had been a silent walk. But a happy silence. Comfortable. Easy.
Everything inside her thrummed. Last night had been…she didn’t have words. Who could have guessed that the flustered and stuttering Fitzwilliam Jennings was an amazingly talented lover? The man had dove between her thighs like a man dying of thirst. She squeezed her legs together.Oh, mio Dio,that man.
She hadn’t experienced that particular act before, and it had been delicious. She had much more experience doing the fondling herself. Men seemed to have no qualms if a woman wanted to practiceonthembut were much more hesitant when asked to reciprocate. At least the cads she had dallied with had been that way.
That was another reason Georgiana had previously sought the Duke of Ironcrest. Yes, he had a reputation for doing dark, degrading things to his partners that spoke to the hidden urges that lived inside her. But more than that, his lovers didn’t leave his bed—probably because they were tied to it—until they attained their pleasure.
Clearly, she had somehow ended up with a husband who was much the same.I need you to come again, Gigi. She smiled behind her cup. The emphasis in his words, the fervor—as though her pleasure was the sustenance he needed to live.
And the awe in his voice when he’d said,this can’t be real.The way he had held her afterwards, like she was precious to him. She swore when she was lying with him, chest to chest, she felt a tug at her heartstrings. Swore one of those strings tied itself with his, joining them in a knot that couldn’t be undone, irreversible.Goodness, look at her getting all disgustingly saccharine. It was like she—
“Georgiana?” Felicity waved a hand wildly in front of Georgiana’s face from across the table.
“Apologies, Felicity. Woolgathering.” Her cheeks heated, and she glanced discreetly at her husband, the subject of said woolgathering. “I am forever getting lost in my own thoughts.”
A sly smile flitted across her sister-in-law’s face, the young woman’s gaze dropping to Georgiana’s cheeks. “Goodness, the Queen’s entire menagerie could have stampeded through the room, and you wouldn’t have noticed. That must have been some daydream. Perhaps one that was a continuation of your Christmas Eve night.” She shot Georgiana a wink.
Fitz’s face went as red as the raspberry preserves he was spreading on his brioche, and he broke out into a coughing fit.
Georgiana’s face went up in flames, too. Goodness, hismotherwas at the table.
“Felicity,” Lydia chided, tucking a strawberry-blonde curl behind her ear. “Leave the poor newlyweds alone. What am I ever going to do with you?”
“Love me unconditionally.” Felicity blinked sweetly at her mother, who shook her head in response.
Felicity turned back to Georgiana. “What I was trying to get your attention for was we have been invited to the Rutledge’s supper party next week. They have one in London every year, the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Their supper parties are always the best, such an interesting crowd. Even Fitzy enjoys them.”
Georgiana set down her chocolate and leaned forward. “Oh, how fun!” She’d been to a few supper parties, but they had always been just another excuse for her mother to maneuver her toward some fortune-hunting lord. She’d never truly enjoyed one before. “Do we know who will be in attendance?”
“Obviously the Duke and Lord Dunmore,” Felicity said, ticking off her fingers.
“Obviously?” Georgiana asked, looking curiously at Felicity.
A clatter of silverware had everyone’s heads turning toward Georgiana’s husband. “Apologies,” Fitz managed with a stiff smile.
Felicity cleared her throat and looked back at Georgiana. “Anyhow”—her eyebrows twisted in awhatever that waslook—“they always attend the Rutledge’s supper parties.” She gave a little nonchalant wave of her hand. “I believe they were all friends at Harrow. And they all sponsor a foundling home together now.”
“Oh, really? How wonderful of them,” Georgiana said absently, half her attention on Fitz. Who appeared to be trying to cut his brioche with his gaze if the way he was glaring daggers at it was any indication.
“Yes, they are such lovely boys,” Lydia chimed in.
The breakfast room fell silent, and all heads turned toward Lady Bentley. Because truly, those were the last two words anyone would ever use to describe the two rogues.
“Lovely. Boys,” Felix said with deliberate slowness, staring at his mother like she’d grown a third eye. “Those two scoundrels? I’d rather not get into specifics with you, Mother, but you have heard the rumors about them, have you not?”
“Not rumors,” Felicity murmured quietly, shooting Georgiana a knowing look and mouthing, “Maribeth.” And Felicity would know the truth. She had first-hand reports from her best friend, Maribeth, Lady Camoys.
