Page 75 of The Mistletoe Dare

He frowned. “What for?”

“For last night,” she said, wringing her hands together. “Honestly, my family is not usually so very difficult. I don’t know what’s got into them.”

“Difficult?” he echoed, his frown deepening in confusion.

“Oh, please don’t be polite. At dinner last night, it was so awkward, with no one speaking. Mama tried her best, but Pa was cross, and my brothers were being difficult on purpose. They’re protecting me, of course, but it was hardly helpful.”

Rochford stared at her with interest. “Georgie, I eat alone most nights. Once a month I steel myself for dinner with my mother, which is an ordeal for both of us endured in silence. Last night was convivial in comparison and I’d have not noticed a thing if you’d said nothing.”

“You thought that was normal?” she asked, staring at him in alarm.

“It didn’t seem unusual, no. Actually, I rather enjoyed it,” he admitted. “You’ve a fine cook.”

“Oh, Rochford!” she said crossly and hugged him, there in the middle of the entrance hall.

Instinctively and with a burst of pleasure, his arms went around her as he gazed down at her in amusement. “What’s this for, now? Not that I’m complaining, you understand.”

“You need looking after,” she wailed, though she’d pressed her face into his waistcoat and the words came out muffled. “Why must you make me want to look after you?”

He grinned, for that had to be a good sign. “I want to marry you. You don’t want to be a duchess. I’m not allowed to seduce you, and I’ve not an ounce of charm. I’ll take pity as a motivating factor.”

“You’re impossible,” she grumbled.

He snorted. “This cannot come as a surprise to you.”

She shook her head, and he put his hand beneath her chin, raising her face so he could look at her.

“I’ll be back on Sunday. I’ll take you to church and then we’ll go for a walk or a ride if the weather is fine. We’ll talk.”

Georgie stared up at him and nodded.

Though the urge to kiss her was nigh on irresistible, he forced himself to release her and step back, contenting himself with raising her fingers to his lips.

“Until Sunday,” he said, and went out to his carriage.

Rochford was as good as his word. For the next eight weeks, he visited Georgie twice a week without fail. Once on Sunday, and for tea on Wednesday afternoon. He was never late, was scrupulously polite to her family, and kind and attentive to Georgie.

It was a cold, bright February afternoon when Georgie took him for a walk out to the ruins of Bucholie Castle. It was a wild place, romantic, and dangerous too if you weren’t careful. But her parents had taught Georgie from a child where was safe to play and where was not, because her mother had almost fallen off the cliffside herself. Her parents had known it was pointless forbidding their children to go somewhere so interesting, and so they’d taught them where the dangers lay instead.

“Christ, it’s cold,” Rochford muttered as an icy wind whipped about the headland, tugging at his coat. “Should we go back? I don’t want you to catch a chill.”

Georgie laughed and shook her head. “Not unless you’ve had enough. I was born here, Rochford. I won’t wilt because there’s a bit of a breeze.”

“A bit of a breeze?” he repeated, shaking his head. “Were you hoping it would blow me off the edge and into the sea so you could be rid of me?”

“There are easier ways to be rid of you, if I had a mind,” Georgie shot back, grinning at him.

Rochford paused, his gaze intent as the guillemots shrieked above them, riding the buffeting air currents overhead. “Does this mean you don’t mind having me about?”

Georgie stood for a long moment, staring out at the endless expanse of blue as the freezing north sea glittered in the sun. “I would have told you by now if I did, duke, or do you think I’m the kind to toy with a man’s affections?”

He shook his head. “No. But I know I’m no prize, Georgie. I’m wealthy and titled, but I’m still me.”

She turned to look at him. “So you are,” she said softly.

“It’s not much of a payoff.” His tone was dry, but she saw the anxiety in his eyes.

“But perhaps it’s enough of one. I suppose I can overlook the fact you’re a duke, after all,” she said, biting back a smile.