Page 20 of Miss Wylde and the Wynd

“Thank you, Charles.” Damian turned and entered the parlor to find Georgie standing at the front window, looking out.

Her back was to him, but he first noticed that she was in a lavender dress, and second, her hair was no longer in braids but twisted and pinned at the back of her head.

“Does your father know where you are?” he asked.

She slowly turned and nearly smiled. “As in the Earl of Wyndham’s home? No, he does not.”

That was how she looked in a dress! How the bloody hell had he not noted the fullness of her breasts before now. He had carried her like a sack of grain and they had been against his back, but they were fuller than he realized and the cut of her simple, serviceable gown, though modest, emphasized her perfect frame. Of course, the style of clothing that women wore did not allow for a man to know her shape below the bodice but given he had seen her in male clothing, he knew that what lay beneath the fabric was perfection.

“England!” Damian bit out.

“Yes,” she answered simply. “He does not know that I snuck onto a ship. I had promised that I would book passage and write to him often.”

“Your father let you go off on your own?” Outrage caused his voice to rise.

“He trusts my judgment. He has always allowed his daughters far more freedom than most fathers.”

Bloody hell!

Damian strode to the sideboard and opened a bottle of wine.

How had he not realized she was a woman and not the girl he had assumed?

It was because of her blasted braids that made her appear too young for him to appreciate. Not even when he was eight-and-ten did he pursue women of a similar age. His tastes had always been for an older, mature women with full breasts.

It wasn’t just her dress either, but her chignon, which brought attention to her long slim neck, high cheekbones and bow-shaped, crimson lips and large, brown eyes framed in thick dark lashes. While she had possessed the same previously, it had been the styling of her hair that likely kept him from noticing that she was a mature woman, who was not simply pretty, but bordering on beautiful.

Bloody hell!

He turned to her and tried to focus on her eyes and not her breasts. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

He drew in a deep breath and blew it out as he poured wine for the two of them.

Maybe if he could channel anger or frustration, he would be able to ignore how enticing she appeared. “What of your mother?” he demanded while he tried to ignore that Georgie was, in fact, a desirable woman. “Was she not concerned?”

“Yes,” Georgie answered simply.

“Did neither parent think to send a chaperone or guard with you?”

Georgie chuckled. “I do not need a chaperone. I am practically on the shelf.”

“You are not even near the shelf!”

“I assure you that I am.”

“You are not!”

Georgie smirked. “How old do you think I am, Damian?”

This was one of those questions that could see him damned no matter how he answered, and especially if he was wrong.

“I would wager you are perhaps twenty years.”

Georgie chuckled and accepted the glass of wine. “I am three-and-twenty, which is certainly old enough to travel and mature enough to make decisions without the guidance of a father.”

Damian shook his head before he pushed his fingers through his hair. Three-and-twenty?