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Georgiana finally dared to look at him. He was gazing out at the sea beyond with an inscrutable look on his face.
“What a fantastic view.”
“Yes, indeed.”
At least that was something they could agree on.
“I know things haven’t turned out as you wished,” he began softly as he turned to her, “but I do hope you are able to enjoy yourself while we’re here.”
Then before she could respond, Captain Harris gave her a nod and left.
She blinked and turned back to the view. The loneliness she always fought to keep at bay was now clawing at her tattered edges. Time for a distraction.
“My lady?” Bea asked, the note of worry cutting through her vicious thoughts. Georgiana realized she had been glowering down at the surf below, her hands gripping the balcony rail. This was not the posture of the elegant, almost perversely self-controlled viscountess. She inhaled deeply and schooled her expression before turning around. “Your food has arrived.”
“Thank you.” Georgiana gave her a serene smile. The one that had been practically frozen to her face during her marriage. The one that only a very select few ever bothered to look past.
Bea looked immediately at ease and returned her smile before stepping back into the room. Georgiana glanced back toward the view, beautiful and unchanged, as she was meant to be.
You should find yourself a lover.
Dolly’s suggestion was now more appealing than ever. Georgiana decided in that moment that she would indeed do just that. Tonight.
***
Henry left the meeting with the Hotel Luna’s head of security feeling more relieved than he had in days. Commandant DuBois was a short, bulky man in his late forties who had served a lengthy stint in the French military, primarily in Egypt. The years of exposure to the heat and sun of the desert shone in the heavy lines of his tanned face, which seemed cast in a permanent frown. But that was perfectly fine by Henry. Security was a serious business, after all.
We host many guests of importance, Captain. Ambassadors, heads of state, titans of business, many still with targets on their backs. I promise you, Lady Arlington will be safe here.
Henry believed him. The viscountess had agreed to be discreetly trailed by two protection officers for the duration of her stay at the hotel as long as they kept their distance. He checked his pocket watch. Lady Arlington should still be having tea with the countess. He picked up the pace as much as he dared and headed toward the private lift.
It was an unneeded reminder that despite his physical training, Henry was not a professional bodyguard, and even without his injury, she was far more distracting to him than he would ever admit. Therefore this was an ideal arrangement. Any immediate threats could be handled by the protection officers, while Henry…well…Henry would collect a handsome fee for acting like a glorified companion.
The thought made him grimace as he stepped into the lift. He certainly didn’t intend to spend the next week lounging on a sun chair beside her, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence wasn’t really necessary. But then he recalled the look on Lady Arlington’s face when he had found her on the balcony earlier.
Without an audience to perform for, she had been stripped completely of artifice, and all that was left was a woman who looked very much alone. And so, so lost. It was a feeling Henry had needed to overcome when he had first returned to civilian life. Though it had been difficult at times, remaining in the navy had not been possible for him. Not after what happened in Turkey.
It had taken considerable effort on his part not to reach out and fold her into his arms. Was this how she always felt in those moments of quiet since her husband’s death? Was that why she had thrown herself into running a business and left her marital home? So that she did not have to face the evenings alone in an empty mansion in Mayfair?
I won’t be marrying again.
When she had first uttered those words that night on the steamer, all he could think of was that annoying smile being wiped off Lord Pettigrew’s face. But now something that felt dangerously close to disappointment throbbed in his chest.
Once he arrived at the top floor, he made his way toward the countess’s suite, where her butler showed him to the terrace. It was much larger than their own suite’s sizable balcony and decorated with a number of potted palm trees and other tropical plants, some in full bloom in shades ranging from blushing fuchsia to blazing yellow. The ladies were seated in the shade under an awning on a pair of wicker sofas, accompanied by a gleaming silver teacart laden with pastel confections. Lady Arlington’s back was to him, but the countess noticed him immediately and waved.
“Hello there, Captain Harris!” She had been a celebrated actress earlier in life and could still project quite beautifully.
Henry waved back, suddenly feeling rather awkward. Lady Arlington’s shoulders had visibly tightened, and she didn’t bother to turn around. Instead, she simply glanced up once he stood before them.
“It is so lovely to see you again, my dear,” the countess said as she embraced him. “And how well you look!”
Henry had forgotten how much Rafe favored his mother. They both shared the same dark brown hair, and though the countess’s temples were now streaked with gray, she was still a strikingly attractive woman. It was little wonder that Rafe’s father, the late Earl of Fairfield, had fallen in love with her on sight—and created the scandal of the decade by marrying the former actress.
“Sit, sit. Tell us about your meeting with Commandant DuBois. Isn’t he a character?” Before Henry could answer either question, the countess continued: “He refuses to tell me how many men he’s killed. Not even after I revealed my own history with espionage.”
Lady Arlington choked on her sip of tea.
“And when was this?” Henry asked pleasantly, as if they were talking about summer travel plans and not state secrets.
