Lord Langley, Jasper, then told her all hethoughthe’d known, though he had been very much mistaken.
They passed the turn to the house, they both agreeing that they ought to go in from the mews lest they cause a stir amongst Lady Mendleton’s guests. Jasper could not yet know what the queen would do with Asturt and the thing ought to be kept quiet until then.
They passed the turn to the mews as they were still talking, and then went down various streets, always turning to head back to the house and not quite getting there. It was only when Georgiana began to get the feeling that Lord Langley grew tired from his injury, graze though it seemed to be, that she insisted on returning.
As they strolled along the quiet mews, Jasper said, “I hope you are not disappointed that you are not to be Queen of England, bride of the new Stuart king.”
“Do not even joke of such a thing,” Georgiana said.
“I did think, though, that you liked Asturt,” Jasper said. “At least a little.”
“Let us leave Lord Asturt behind, if you will. After all, there was never such a person existing,” Georgiana said, holding out her skirt and peering down at the wreckage she’d made of it. “I do not suppose Lady Mendleton will be very happy over what I’ve done to this dress.”
To her surprise, Lord Langley stopped her walking and pulled her close. “I don’t care about the dress.” He bent over her and softly kissed her.
Georgiana felt as if her body had become liquid, her knees no longer made of anything solid. She hoped his arms would keep her up and she would not fall on the cobblestones. She did think his embrace would keep her up, as it was far more powerful than she had imagined. It was powerful and rather perfect.
As she sank into the bliss of him, her very inconvenient rational mind kept posing the same questions. Did he kiss her from some sort of gratefulness? Was he really in his right mind? She could not bear to discover on the morrow that he had not been.
She pulled away gently and whispered, “I don’t care about the dress either. But I pray you do not kiss me only out of a sense of gratefulness.”
“Gratefulness?”
“For saving your life,” Georgiana said. “Or it might be loss of blood and you are not thinking clearly.”
“My God, Miss Wilcox,” Jasper said softly into ear, “I have been in love with you since the moment you blew into this house with your shockingly bad playing and bad taste in books and I’m guessing bad sewing and drawing too.”
Georgiana breathed a long sigh into his coat lapel. No gentleman out of his senses would recall how badly she played. “I think I have loved you all along, despite your incessant reading of newspapers and secretiveness and long absences and deranged suspicions and outrageous barbs.”
Jasper loosened one of her curls and twirled it round his finger. “Yes, as to the barbs this night, that was unforgivable.”
In truth, Georgiana could not care less about the barbs. It felt silly now, that she’d almost burst into tears on the ballroom floor. “My playing of the pianoforte is rather unforgivable too, so I suppose we just must put up with each other,” she said, a soft laughter escaping her.
“Tell me what else I must put up with,” Jasper said, nuzzling her hair. “I want to know it all and be delighted with it.”
As Georgiana rested her cheek against his coat, she thought of how very good he did smell. She had hardly dared imagine herself in his arms, and yet here she was. She would have to admit all though, no matter how vexed he got over it. If they were to spend their lives together, it could not begin with a secret. There had already been too many secrets and misunderstandings between them.
She peeked up and him. “I must admit to reading a letter that was in your desk. When I went to the library for a book, Marcus was reading it and I…”
“You were only a nosy meddler, precisely as I’d hoped you were.”
Georgiana nodded and continued. “As well, I fell off Minerva in the park because I’ve never in my life used a sidesaddle. I expect you think me a heathen.”
“A delightful heathen with none of the tedious accomplishments a young miss is usually forced to carry round and subject everybody to. Rather, you set off into the night like a veritable Joan of Arc to rescue me, which I find a far more interesting accomplishment.”
“I will hold you to that.”
“Do hold me, in any case.”
Georgiana did as she was bid, and gladly. She might stay standing in the mews all night. They both ignored Lord Langley’s horse, who did not seem to see the charm of standing in the mews and had taken to irritating snorting.
Jasper suddenly started. “Good Lord, I am bad at this.”
“What? What has happened?” Georgiana asked, silently praying he’d not changed his mind or suddenly remembered he’d declared for somebody else or realized a connection to her less than lofty family would not bring him any glory.
“Miss Wilcox,” he said, “I presume you have agreed to become my wife? I should have asked very specifically, but then I kissed you instead. I suppose you’ll want some sort of poem? Or at the very least, a list of your charms.”
Georgiana smiled. “Well, you did get shot in your effort to extricate me from a treasonous plot—I suppose that’s declaration enough. And, you’d better call me Georgiana. I have been thinking of you as ‘Jasper’ for ages.”
