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“Do you converse with your horse, Mr. Greymont?”
“All the time, Miss Georgina. I find him the most sensible gent of all my acquaintance.”
“I know what you mean.” She gave him the briefest of smiles and grew quiet once more.
Jeremy thought she looked sad, and he wondered what had happened to make her thus. He could admit that he found Georgina Russell very attractive and would be more than willing to bed her, but strangely, he wanted more than just a tumble. He found it sud
denly essential to see her really smile, to have her golden eyes smoldering at him, teasing him. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted to be the one who made her happy, something he’d never cared about with anyone ever before. And if Jeremy knew one thing it was this: the fair Georgina Russell did not hold happiness in her heart.
Chapter Four
She fair, divinely fair, fit love for gods.
—John Milton, Paradise Lost (1667)
Gold and yellow, a smattering of vibrant orange-red, filtered above her head. The leaves were beginning to reveal their colors. A faint breeze rattled through the autumn pendants, making them shimmer in the light.
A beautiful sight, but Georgina could not appreciate any of it. Not the fine September afternoon, nor the glorious color showing amongst the leaves. She was miserable and didn’t see any way to escape her present problems. The argument with Papa this morning had been awful. He would not give up on persuading her to accept Lord Pellton’s offer of marriage.
“A peer of the realm offers marriage to you, Georgina. A title, status, security, and you would decry all of it in favor of rusticating into spinsterhood for all to ponder why? I’ll not allow such a thing, my daughter! This house will not fall to scandalous gossip. Never!”
Papa was ashamed of her and could hardly bear to look her in the eyes. Of course he was. She had shamed her family. Marrying her off would prove the easiest way for him to be rid of her. If he could sweep her under the rug with a good marriage, the Russell name would remain upstanding.
But marriage to Lord Pellton would not be good. Not for her. More like a nightmare.
Papa had told her this morning that Pellton was tiring of her reticence and would likely withdraw his offer if she didn’t show him some encouragement. Georgina had responded that he’d be wise to withdraw for encouragement from her would not be forthcoming in this lifetime or any other.
To punish her for not yielding, her father had yet again forbidden her to ride, so she had to make do with a walk on the grounds instead.
Georgina wasn’t trying to be difficult or make trouble, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Lord Pellton was a lecher. She hated the way he looked at her, like he dreamed of her unclothed—and vulnerable. And she didn’t believe he would be a kind husband.
A shudder passed through her body. She imagined he thought of the ways he would like to have her, and she would have to submit to it because he needed an heir, and it would be his right to do as he wished. He probably wouldn’t leave her alone until she produced one. And to live with him and call him husband? The very idea made her physically sick.
Truth be told, he frightened her. Something about him reminded her of the other one, bringing back a horror she didn’t fully remember, but still only wished to forget.
Lord Pellton didn’t see her as a person. She knew that much by the way he treated her and looked at her. To him, she was just a thing to be used until she provided what he wanted. She couldn’t do it, she just couldn’t. She was ruined now anyway. Georgina was no fool. She knew herself. She was well aware that marriage to a man like Pellton would…kill her.
Georgina did not hear the sound of boots upon the ground, well, not at first. She was awash in troublesome thoughts of her dilemma that didn’t seem to diminish the more she pondered.
* * * *
Sweet Christ. Jeremy took in the view of her from behind and knew he was in trouble. More accurately, that in a few moments would be making a complete horse’s arse out of himself.
Sitting in a tree swing that looked like it had hung for many years from the great oak, Georgina absently rocked from side to side, using her foot as an anchor. Her dark golden hair had been bundled into a soft mass with plenty of errant curls escaping the attempt at containment. He wanted to pluck out the pins that held those locks. He wanted to see it tumble down her back and frame her face.
Then he would take a curl and lift it to his nose so he could fill his head with the soft whisperings of eglantine. After that, he would fist handfuls of the silky stands and pull her to his lips, in effect trapping her in his embrace. From there he would plunder that appealing mouth of hers, using his tongue to taste and claim the warm depths. Envisioning her mouth caused him to imagine his cock being surrounded by her sweet lips. He could just see them closing in around the head of his prick, right before she slid him to the back of her throat and sucked him dr—
Her head whipped around to glare at him. “Mr. Greymont? You startled me! I did not know you were there.”
Georgina’s indignant reprimand splashed his warm, erotic fantasy with drops of icy, cold reality, killing the thing instantly.
Caught red-handed, you bloody idiot! Go ahead. Now is the time to make that horse’s arse out of yourself!
“I—I was walking back from the shooting and saw you,” he sputtered. “You looked so peaceful in your musings there in the swing.” He cleared his throat. “I—I was reluctant to disturb you.” Like you’re doing right now. Fool!
She stared at him, saying nothing.
“Miss Georgina.” He bowed. “I apologize for the disruption and for startling you. Please forgive me.”
