Page 96 of Counting on Love

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Georgiana was restless. Hiding away in Marbury might be convenient, but it was only putting off the inevitable. Currently, the ton was diverted by Hazard squiring Alice about. Mama wrote that she had voiced some reservations about their scheme, but that Viscount Haslet’s attention apparently benefitted Alice’s prospects more than standing in Georgiana’s shadow had. If that was meant to make her feel better, it didn’t. And she knew she’d have to face down the gossip eventually—the ton wondering whether she had rejected yet another perfect suitor or that Lord Taverston had failed to come up to scratch.

People should have more important things to talk about.

There were numerous beautiful places to walk on the Marbury estate. The village was small and safe. The library was splendid, not as large as that at Sayles, but still, splendid. Even so, she was not satisfied to while away the hours in quiet, not the way she had been after her first failed Season. Now she knew what she wanted, and it was not this.

She had just spent an hour idly practicing the piano. But that made her think of Crispin’s effortless playing which had not been effortless at all. She could not stop thinking of the Taverstons. She could not stop pining for Reginald.

She tried reading one of Father’s astronomy books but could not concentrate. Disgusted with herself, she took a novel into the drawing room, curled up on the davenport, and read. It was not as fatuous as she’d expected. In fact, she was becoming rather engrossed when Fenton, their butler, appeared at the door.

“My lady, you have a caller.” His face was rigid with disapproval. “A gentleman caller. A Lord Taverston.”

Georgiana tensed. What was he doing here? She’d told him no. How did he even find her? Oh, good Heavens. Olivia must have told him where she was.

“I’m not receiving callers.” She had a good reason, even if it was rude of her. “Lady Millicent is not at home.”

Her father’s widowed cousin had made her home in Marbury. She was a little batty and fairly deaf, but she served the purpose of chaperone very well, especially as no one called on Georgiana in Marbury except the elderly curate and his wife and a few ladies from the village. But Millicent had gone into town to shop for a new bonnet to add to her collection.

“Very well.” Fenton evidently approved. He spun on his heel to send Jasper away.

Georgiana tried to read again, but the book had lost its appeal.

Fenton returned, carrying a package wrapped in brown paper.

“The gentleman asked me to bring you this. He said his sister wishes you to have it.”

Wonderful. The Italian had followed her home. But it was kind of Olivia to think of her. She gestured and Fenton came and handed it to her. She untied the strings. Unwrapped the brown paper.

The Principles of Analytical Calculation.

Georgiana’s heart stopped. She could barely speak, yet managed to murmur, “Has he gone away?”

“No.” Fenton pursed his lips. “He is awaiting a response, I gather.”

“Show him in.”

The butler huffed loudly but went to fetch him.

Georgiana sat up straight and set the book on the table, wringing her hands. Decorum, she reminded herself. She knew how to behave. She did. She’d let him say his piece and decide from there.

The butler opened the door. “Lord Taverston,” he announced.

“Mr. Taverston,” Georgiana said, rising and going to greet him. He had that unshaven appearance again and his hair was windswept from his ride. She offered her hand. He bowed over it. She said, “Fenton, that will be all.”

The moment he was gone, Georgiana shut the door. She turned the lock. And she threw herself into Reginald’s arms.

“You came.”

He answered with kisses. Flooding her with kisses. Backing her up against the door. They kissed as before, but Reginald was even more…insistent than he had been at the folly.

“Forgive me,” he murmured against her throat.

“Yes.” She would have said more, but he scooped her up and carried her to the davenport. He set her down, kissing her without ceasing. His hands roamed over her back, her shoulders, and then her breast. This time she wasn’t startled. She made a noise, but it was more of a moan than a gasp, and it didn’t prevent him from continuing. Somehow he loosened her gown by her shoulder and slid it down, down, then he began kissing her through the thin fabric of her chemisette. When his mouth tightened over her nipple she cried out.

“Stop?” he asked.

“No!”