Page 68 of Miss Wylde and the Wynd

“Better than I have since…well, frankly, I cannot remember.”

Georgie reached into her valise to retrieve her brush hoping that he didn’t notice her blush. The only reason she believed that it was present was because her face burned.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. Quite well,” she answered as she tried to twist her hair back into a chignon except, she did not have all her pins.

“We need to leave for the port,” she reminded Damian because he was not yet out of the bed. They could not afford to dawdle, she needed to get away from the chamber, and the bed, especially while Damian was still in it.

He chuckled and sat up, then moved to a chair after he collected his boots and began to put them on. While he was occupied, and with one hand holding the twist and knot in place she returned to the bed to search for the pins, where she found several, but they were in the middle of the bed, where she had awakened and not where she had fallen asleep. Hopefully Damian did not notice, but if he did, she would be able to invent an excuse that he would believe. What did men know about hairpins anyway?

“I will return momentarily.”

“Where are you going?” she demanded in alarm.

“I am going to make arrangements so that we can break our fast before we leave.”

Yes, well, she was hungry, but before saying anything else, she checked her pocket watch. It was barely eight in the morning. “Thank you but do hurry.” Only when he was gone and the door had shut did Georgie relax and sink down into the chair Damian had earlier occupied.

Goodness.

Waking this morning in the way that she had would never be forgotten and she would be forever grateful that he remained asleep and would never know that she had slept on him.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Not only had he slept through the night and awakened quite pleasantly, but Damian also couldn’t remember being this humored in the morning. When in Southampton, he was already thinking about what needed to be done at Trade Wynd, what ships were due into port and which ones were leaving before he got out of bed in the morning. Today, he gave little thought to their import-export business and privately chuckled about how Georgie was clearly flustered.

Yes, she ordered him about each day, her one focus on finding Grace, but there was something different about her today.

Nervousness!

She was likely trying to come to terms with how she had awakened and likely quite shocked, if not horrified, and praying that he never learned that she had practically slept on him.

Damian chuckled again as he descended the stairs before he made inquiries into a private room where he and Georgie could dine then returned upstairs to inform Georgie. He then saw to it that his valise was packed with his discarded clothing from the day before, retrieved the satchel Cook had once filled with foodstuffs, noting that there was still another, unopened bottle of wine within, and then took Georgie’s valise and escorted her down to the private dining room.

“We could have eaten in the common room,” she suggested. “It is odd to be dining privately when we could have done so upstairs.”

Except there wasn’t a bed in this room and he had been tempted enough since he left Southampton.

“We will be more comfortable in here,” he promised, then led her to the table and pulled the chair out for her before taking his own seat.

“Would you care for coffee or tea?” Damian asked when the servant arrived to ask which of their choices they would partake of that morning.

A look of near ecstasy came over her features. “Coffee,” she answered on a breath.

Georgie was once again a surprise. He had expected her to ask for tea, or ale, but she reacted as if coffee was gold.

“I have not had coffee since I left Carrera. There wasn’t a day that I did not enjoy a cup or more at home.”

“I wish I would have known because we could have found some earlier.”

“It is not important,” she quickly assured him, but when the coffee was delivered, she lifted the cup to her nose, closed her eyes and inhaled. Pure peace on her face, before she sipped. And, as she always did when tasting something delicious, quietly moaned.

Would she moan in ecstasy? Damian wondered, as he took a drink of his coffee, and then pushed the thought away.

Georgie took another drink then set her cup aside, the earlier happiness gone and now concern filled her brown eyes. He should not be surprised. This was not a holiday, nor truly an adventure.

“After we find Grace, can we take time to book passage for me and my sister to Italy?”