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“Georgie, look who’s come to visit!” Tom Russell called his sister over to where they stood. “Surely you will remember my friend, Jeremy Greymont, from Hallborough Park. He’s come for the shooting.” Tom turned to Jeremy. “Greymont, my sister, Georgina, now all grown up.”
Jeremy bowed, unable to keep the teasing from his voice. “Miss Georgina, how do you do? I must say, I did not recognize you, so different you look from the last time we met.”
If he thought she looked lovely glistening in raindrops, he was even more impressed with her fitted into a marvelous green dress, the bodice of which caressed her breasts in the way his hands wanted to. Her rosy scent floated up his nose, calming and enticing at the same time.
“Mr. Greymont.” She curtsied. “Welcome back to Oakfield.” She lifted her face, sending him a silent “thank you” for keeping their meeting today in confidence.
He flashed a wink to let her know their secret was safe. A burst of gladness warmed him. He liked the idea that they were keeping secrets together, and the pretty smile she returned.
“Thank you for the welcome. I look forward to the restorative freshness of the country. London has many qualities, but I think most would agree that freshness is not among them.”
“Do you live in London now, Mr. Greymont?”
“I split my time between Town and my home, Hallborough, along the coast in west Somerset.”
“Can you spy the sea from your house?”
“Indeed. The view is quite stunning. Sometimes all the way to the Welsh coast across the channel if the sky is clear. It makes for quite a sight. The local artists find it a favorite scene to capture.”
Jeremy liked that Georgina seemed so interested in his home, and all of a sudden, a vision of her standing out on the second-floor balcony, staring out to sea, popped into his head. He could see her dress blowing back, framing her legs, and her long hair whipping in the ocean breeze. And she looked so very natural standing there on his balcony, in that pretty imaginary vision. Like she belonged. He took a sip of wine to give himself something to do, for he suddenly felt very self-conscious of every word he spoke and every movement he made.
“Well, it sounds very beautiful, Mr. Greymont. You paint a nice picture of your home for me to imagine.”
“Do you still sketch, Miss Georgina? I do remember you liked to draw at one time.”
She smiled at him. Not a huge smile, but one of genuine warmth. So warm, in fact, he felt it, too. Her smile warmed him.
“You have a good memory, sir. And yes, I do still.”
That lovely warmth of feeling Jeremy had enjoyed so well dissipated just as quickly as it came once the announcement for dinner was made.
One of the other guests pushed forward to claim the honor of escorting Georgina to the table. She had no choice but to assent.
Lord Edgar Pellton, Baron, from someplace or another in Avon, was indeed a guest here and sniffing after Miss Georgina Russell in hopes of making her his next baroness. The man was rich, titled, and in need of an heir. He’d been married before, but lost his wife in childbirth, along with an infant daughter. It was said that Pellton didn’t mourn the loss of his wife for even a day, angry that she hadn’t seen fit to give him a son, and returned immediately to his notorious ways with those who shared in his penchant for orgiastic bacchanals. Behavior quite ridiculous for a man far into his fourth decade, in Jeremy’s opinion.
After his arrival, he’d unfortunately discovered Lord Pellton’s attendance for the shooting party along with him.
What a goddamn letch!
Jeremy watched Pellton stride up to Georgina, his waistcoat buttons straining against the bulge at his middle. His features were sharp and mean, like a rat trying to steal from the larder, wriggling in where he didn’t belong and having a go at taking something he didn’t deserve. Pellton sure as hell didn’t deserve someone as lovely as Georgina Russell. Jeremy could scream that from the mountaintops with undisputable certainty. And Jeremy was positive he detected a slight shudder from Georgina when Pellton offered his arm. And he couldn’t imagine how Georgina’s father would even consider sacrificing her to such a beast. How those two disparate men had maintained a friendship was beyond Jeremy’s fathoming.
Jeremy tugged at his shirt cuff and set his jaw as the uncomfortable stirrings of jealousy coiled inside him, and he didn’t feel at all relaxed sitting down to dinner, despite the time he’d prepared for it and Myers’s efforts with the excellent new suit he’d worn.
To be placed next to Georgina was a small consolation. Jeremy looked at her hands, so finely made, and remembered the feel of holding one in a clasp. The moment she’d stepped forward and agreed to let him take her home, there had been firm strength in those elegant lady hands of hers.
“I trust you are no worse for wear after your very wet walk this afternoon? You certainly don’t look it,” he said admiringly. “Were you able to return undetected?”
“I went unnoticed, Mr. Greymont, and able to avoid…um…trouble, for a time at least.” She directed her eyes, still downcast, to the dinner companion on her other side—one Lord Pellton, who, at this very moment, nearly drooled over his plate as he stared most luridly at the bodice of her lovely green gown.
Jeremy found Pellton’s open staring crudely offensive and thought it would be a miracle if he managed to get through the whole fortnight of the party without sticking his boot up the idiot’s arse.
“I am glad then, Miss Georgina, that I had opportunity to assist you today.” He willed her to meet his eyes. When she finally did, he spoke carefully. “Something I would be honored to do for you, anytime.”
Georgina returned a slight nod before lowering her amber eyes once again. “Thank you. You are a kind gentleman.” She got quiet for a moment. “Your horse, Samson, is a beautiful creature.”
So are you. “I’ll tell him you said so, the next time we talk,” he returned.
