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“She was lovely, yo
ur mother. I can see you, in her. Your eyes are the same.”
“Gina, when you look at her, how do you find her countenance?” he asked.
Georgina observed carefully in the candlelight before answering him. “Well, she is beautiful but composed in a way that seems…well, almost sad to me. She does not look happy, I think. How did you lose her?”
“I was ten when I lost my parents, well, mostly just her. My father was always a distant parent, literally and figuratively. He left in my tenth year, and it killed her. Truly it did, for after he left, she died of a broken heart.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Now let it work; mischief, thou are afoot…
—William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar (1599)
Georgina looked up at the painting. In the daylight, the nuances of color were exceptional. The light brown hair and blue eyes so emotive of Jeremy. The son definitely took after the mother.
Clarissa Greymont, nee Bleddington, had been blessed with beauty, but not in love. She married a cad. Henri Greymont was a poor husband and even worse father. Jeremy had shared the sad tale when she’d asked about his parents.
Henri married Clarissa, the only child of Jeremy’s maternal grandparents, Sir Rodney and Lady Bleddington. Clarissa loved Henri. Henri loved her money even more. Jeremy was a product of the very first years of the marriage, when they’d actually lived together.
Henri spent the majority of his time philandering and racking up debts. Clarissa spent the majority of her time pining for her husband and welcoming him home with open arms, that is, whenever he deigned to return to it.
But Henri finally killed even that eternal optimism. When there was no more money to extract from her, Henri left England with an actress he’d taken up with. He wrote, saying he wanted a divorce. That was the final nail in Clarissa’s coffin. She lost the will to live and simply faded out of life. Within six months, she was dead. And even in her death, she granted Henri Greymont’s last request of her—an irrevocable dissolution of their marriage.
Yes, she was right to look sad in the portrait, Georgina thought. Clarissa Greymont was a tragic woman with a heartrending past. Yet, selfishly, Georgina could not regret the union, for without it, Jeremy would not be. He wouldn’t be in her life. He would never have found her, saved her, given her a life.
Turning abruptly away from those melancholy, blue eyes, she left the gallery for other pursuits, thinking about how lucky she was. She had married well. Jeremy was nothing like his father. He would never treat his wife and children in such a way…
* * * *
Jeremy returned from the day’s business. The dark, rolling sky, ominous above him, foretold of impending rain. He quickened his pace, thinking of Gina and what she might be doing. The tremor between his legs inspired thoughts of what he’d like to be doing with her. Yes, with the day so ugly, outdoor pursuits were not an option. How timely, he thought. What better way to pass the afternoon than in a warm, cozy bed—naked of course—and making love to his wife.
Pulling up to the house, he handed off his horse to a groom and took the steps two at a time. He figured the faster he found her, the sooner he could be inside her. With all the sex they’d been having, he should have been able to focus on something else. But no, not really the case. The more he had her, the more he needed her, and not always just for the sex. He just needed her. Needed to be with her, spend time in her company, be near her.
Handing over his overcoat and gloves, he inquired of the butler, “Clarke, where can I find Mrs. Greymont?” He smiled, thinking how much he loved saying “Mrs. Greymont.”
“Madam is in with Mrs. Richards, sir.” Nothing much ruffled Clarke. He was as somber as they come. His voice was all muted dignity and calm.
“Thank you, Clarke.”
A few minutes later, Jeremy popped his head into the housekeeping office after a short preemptory knock. There she was, head bent, furrowed brow, all concentration as she reviewed accounts with Richards. It made him all the prouder of her, seeing how she stepped up to her new role as mistress by learning the workings of Hallborough. So diligent in her efforts.
God, how she aroused him! Just seeing Gina now made his cock ache to be inside her. He wanted to stride over and sweep her into a deep kiss, and then carry her upstairs to bed, where he’d see her clothes removed slowly, and one garment at a time, until she was gloriously naked. Gina liked him directing her, taking comfort in his mastery at pleasuring her. And pleasure her he would. He’d lay her out on the bed and kiss every inch of skin. He wanted his tongue on her breasts, inside her quim, anywhere, everywhere. He needed to taste her honey again—
“Jeremy?” She smiled up at him, inquiring with a gentle look.
Caught again…thinking with your prick.
“Oh, hello. Sorry for interrupting you at your work. Just wanted to let you know I’ve returned. Made it inside before the rain.”
Christ, he was rambling like an idiot, and his cock was throbbing like a bass drum in a soldier band. He wondered if they could hear it. Thank heavens his jacket covered him. He was stiff enough to work as a coat hook for the damn thing in case he decided to take it off in any case.
“Um, come find me when you are done? Yes? I’ll be in my study.”
Flustered, he shut the door and got the hell out of there as fast as his feet could take him, the ache in his kecks subsiding only a little. He needed a drink.
The scotch soothed him some. Seated at his desk, he worked through some correspondence that had accumulated, hoping the time could pass quickly before Gina came to him. He was still halfway hard when the knock at the door came. His cock punched against the fabric. She was just behind that door. Relief at last! Maybe they could play in here, with the door locked of course. Perhaps, just possibly, she might want to try a new game…called fellatio. Jeremy’s mind went rampant with the possibilities of fantasies he only dreamed about with her, but so far had not attempted. He was taking a slow path with Gina, and felt that when the time was right, they would know.
