An Elegant Façade (Hawthorne House Book #2) (31 page)

Years of hiding her frustrations kept Georgina’s groan locked in her throat, and she managed to slow her tears to a trickle. That was what he got from her speech? That she’d developed a
tendre
for him? “Is that all you heard?”

He shook his head, still looking as if she’d rammed him in the
stomach with her art easel. “I assure you I shall address the rest of it in a moment. But I want this settled first.”

Her lips pressed together. She considered pushing past him and leaving the room. All the books were starting to close in, mocking her with their very existence. But he’d recovered enough to grip both her arms now.

His might could keep her in the room, standing inches away and smelling the exciting blend of leather and soap, but he couldn’t make her speak.

“Georgina, do you want my affection?” He took a deep breath, his chest expanding until the buttons on his waistcoat pulled. “Because I would sincerely like to earn yours.”

Her gaze flew to his face, searching every nuance for the truth of his statement.

His breath sighed across her face moments before his lips brushed against hers. She’d never been kissed before, had always been too busy thinking and planning to get caught up in the moment.

She wasn’t thinking now.

Warm hands slid up her arms to her neck as his lips returned, pressing a bit firmer this time. She brought her arms up, gripping handfuls of his coat, pressing her fists to his sides, afraid he’d leave before she was ready.

His lips slid from hers like a shadow, leaving the ghost of their taste and the tingling memory of pleasure. He touched his forehead to hers.

She looked up to meet his eyes but found them closed. The lashes looked more red than light brown when she was this close. It was a funny thing to fixate on, but she treasured the knowledge that she was one of the very few, if not the only one, who knew that about him.

His eyes flicked open and caught her staring. “You look good in green.”

She glanced down at her skirts to see them bathed in a patch of green light. A giggle broke free as she brought her eyes back to his. “You look good,” she whispered, “always.”

There was no telling how long they stood there, drinking in each other’s souls, sharing the same breath. It felt like forever, but she nearly protested when he started to pull away.

His hands slid to either side of her face, thumbs curving in to rub away the last of her tears. “Come here,” he whispered.

Even as she told herself not to, she let him lead her back to the book. His arm lay across the back of her shoulders while his hand rubbed up and down her arm, drifting from sleeve to arm and back again. Each brush of his hand against her skin sent warmth to her toes.

He slid her ribbons the rest of the way off the book and started to read.

Thoughts of God should be the only thing in his mind. A soul hung in the balance here, after all. Something told him that if Georgina walked away from God this time, she wouldn’t turn back.

And then where would he be?

He shouldn’t have kissed her. He’d told himself he wouldn’t, that Lady Georgina Hawthorne wasn’t for him. But the moment he’d seen her fighting, struggling to make out the passage in the Bible, he’d been lost. That kind of determination commanded his respect, his admiration.

Everything he knew about her went through his mind. She’d been as crafty, resourceful, and diligent as the best businessman he’d ever worked with. He had no defenses left. So it was either help God draw her to himself or walk away, because Colin had seen what happened when a man and wife wanted different things in life. He couldn’t see himself spending that life with anyone who didn’t share his faith, his views, his guiding principles.

No matter how much he cared for her.

“‘There is no new thing under the sun,’” he read aloud. Ecclesiastes. Of all the books, why did it have to be Ecclesiastes? Difficult for even the devout to take in.

Georgina’s shoulders trembled against his arm. He felt her shak
ing against his side. How long had she been in here? Standing before the Bible, facing her greatest fear?

He retrieved one of the discarded ribbons to mark his place in the Bible and scooped the book from the stand. With his arm firm around her shoulders, he led them to one of the sofas.

The book fell open on his lap, the words of John staring up at him. He wished he could read from there, give her something easier to understand, something where the hope was considerably more obvious. But he couldn’t leave her thinking that a part of the Bible said she was ridiculous and worthless. She would always wonder.

Georgina stayed under his arm, pressed to his side. She pulled her feet up onto the sofa and curled them under her skirt.

Distracted by the image and the sensations running along his side, Colin fumbled to turn the pages back to where he’d been reading. And he read. He read until his voice started to crack and he prayed for stamina. God provided, though Colin almost choked on the rush of saliva that filled his mouth to wet his tongue.

“‘Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter,’” Colin read, thankful they were reaching the end of the book, but wondering if Georgina would be able to find meaning in it, praying she would see the point.

“Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work in judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.”

Georgina sat up, putting at least half a foot between their bodies.

Relief and regret warred in Colin’s heart.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Her eyes were wide, her voice touched with awe.

He lifted his brow in inquiry but didn’t say anything. He was afraid to say anything.

“That’s why you do things the way you do them. Why Griffith is so determined to do things a certain way, even when it’s family. Even though he’s a duke. Because no matter what we do, be it good
or ill, it goes away and only God is left. And fearing God, following God is the whole duty of man. The only thing that remains.”

A sob choked out of her, dampening the flame of hope that was flickering in his gut at her understanding.

She took a shaky breath. “Which means everything I’ve done is folly just as He says. Everything.”

She was seeking God. That could be enough, couldn’t it? It was going to have to be, because Colin didn’t think he could stay away from her any longer. He was drowning in the need to offer comfort, to tell her how wonderful she was without all the masks and machinations.

“I have to go.” Georgina sprang to her feet. “I have to think.”

She fled the room, a flurry of white bursting through the colored pattern that stretched along the floor.

Colin watched the door for a long time. What he was looking for, he didn’t know. Georgina had spent the last thirteen years scheming and planning to achieve a single goal. To have that goal called into question would take time to acclimate to.

If she ever did.

He shouldn’t have kissed her. It wasn’t his first kiss. He’d given in to the turmoil of emotions and kissed Erika on that dock in Glasgow five years ago. She’d kissed him back in an effort to convince him to stay, begging him not to board the ship. Kissing Georgina had been different. In truth, the two events shouldn’t even share the same name.

What would he do if she came downstairs tomorrow, still determined to make the best social match in order to protect herself and her reputation? Because there was no way he’d ever be that man. He clung to the edge of society by his fingernails. Marrying him would be a step down from spinsterhood.

The solid weight of the Bible in his lap drew his attention.

He flipped the pages to Romans and settled in for the evening.

Georgina wasn’t at breakfast the next morning. Not that she’d shown up for the morning meal any other day since coming to
the country, but part of Colin had hoped to see her as a sign that things had changed overnight.

He lingered in the breakfast room knowing he was being foolish. Eventually he pushed away from the table and went in search of Ryland. Whether for advice or distraction Colin didn’t know, but he couldn’t bear to be alone with his thoughts anymore, and if he didn’t do something soon, he’d track Georgina down wherever she was hiding.

The duke was stacking boards near a half-finished paddock fence behind the stable. Worn boots, patched wool trousers, and white lawn shirt open at the throat made the man look as far from the aristocracy as possible.

Colin raised his eyebrows as Ryland dropped three more white-painted boards on the pile. “Feeling nostalgic?”

Ryland had worked more than one menial job in his years as a spy. It was probably hard to accept an idle life after living on the edge of danger for so long.

“Physical labor can help clear the mind.” Ryland tapped his head with one finger.

“Have something serious you need to think through?” Colin leaned against one of the completed sections of fence.

“Not me.” Ryland scooped a hammer from the ground beside the pile of wood. A gentle toss sent it arcing in Colin’s direction. He scrambled to grab it before it connected with his midsection. “You.”

There was no denying that Colin’s brain was working hard and going nowhere, like trying to row up a fast-moving stream. If swinging a hammer would help straighten things out, he was more than willing to pound a few nails.

He draped his coat over the fence rail and jerked the knot out of his cravat. Hefting a board from the pile, he walked to the end of the completed sections. “I’ve never built a fence before.”

“I’ve seen the ship you helped build. I think I can trust you with my paddock.” Ryland hauled another board and a bucket of nails.

Fortunately the support posts had already been placed, leaving nothing for Colin and Ryland but the mindless setting of boards and hammering of nails.

They put up three sections of crossbeams in silence, and then, “One of my horses went on an interesting journey recently.”

Colin slid another board into the notch on the support post. What amazing patience the man had that he could wait two weeks before bringing up Colin’s trip to Cheshire. Colin had been beginning to wonder if Ryland even knew he’d borrowed the horse. “Thank you for that. I had urgent business to attend that couldn’t be delayed.”

Ryland handed Colin a nail. “Yes, I know. In Cheshire.”

Colin placed the nail against the wood and tapped it in enough to hold its place.

“Interesting how Ashcombe also had to hie off to Cheshire, isn’t it?”

Colin missed the nail entirely, banging his hand into the fence post and sending his hammer flying through the air.

Leaving his hand on the post for support, Colin turned to glare at Ryland. “What are you implying?”

“That Hugh Carson is a fine manager.” Ryland picked up the hammer and held it toward Colin. “I’ve tried to hire him away from Ashcombe myself.”

Colin took the hammer and pounded the nail in with a satisfying thud. His friend was too perceptive by half. How had he known about the position in Glasgow? “Your network is reaching far these days.”

He shrugged. “I like to know what’s going on in the country.”

The sentence lacked a note of finality, so Colin looked to Ryland’s face, trying to find the unsaid meaning.

Ryland didn’t leave him searching long. “And in my own home.”

Colin sighed. “Let me guess, the stained-glass shepherd is in your employ as well? Or perhaps that atrocious statue of Socrates told you.”

The grin that crossed Ryland’s face was boyish in its note of victory.

With a groan, Colin hung his head in shame. He’d fallen for a simple trick he often employed himself. Ryland had known nothing. He’d simply gone fishing and Colin had taken the bait.

Ryland lifted another board. “I’ve a staff of former spies, Colin. Did you really think they wouldn’t tell me when you and she spent upwards of an hour alone in the library? I must admit I’m surprised she’d step foot in the library of her own volition. She’s never shown much affinity for the written word.”

Colin focused on the nail. He wasn’t about to let that secret slip. It was possible Ryland had figured it out on his own. He had spent months hiding out among the family’s staff last year. Unless he said the words directly, though, Colin would assume the other man knew nothing. No matter how much he wanted Georgina to share her secret with her family, it was still her secret.

“Will you be considering me her closest male relative, or should we send word to Griffith?”

Colin hit the nail so hard it bent sideways, burrowing uselessly into the wood.

Ryland shot a questioning glance between the nail and Colin.

As if he could talk marriage right now. He wasn’t even sure Georgina ever planned to speak to him again. Colin grunted. “Even the most conservative Englishman reads.”

“Reads.”

“That is what normal people tend to do in a library, is it not?”

“I haven’t a clue what normal people do.” Ryland whacked his own nail into the board. “But you’ll never convince me Georgina was in that room for a book.”

Colin normally delighted in the rare occasion that Ryland was wrong about something. In this case, it was too dangerous to crow over his misconception. Georgina had been in the library for the very specific purpose of finding a book. A specific book. But he couldn’t tell his friend that. “Let’s just build a fence, shall we?”

One strike of his hammer set the nail, and another sent it to its new home in the fence. At least someone was going to benefit from his frustration.

Harriette crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on the floor. “Should I pull out a dress for dinner, or will the effort be wasted as it was this morning and this afternoon?”

Georgina winced at the derision in her friend’s voice. Harriette had been uncommonly patient with Georgina as she roamed the room in her gown and wrapper all day. She’d said nothing when Georgina rang for a tray for breakfast and again for luncheon.

She wasn’t going to be quiet much longer. If Georgina didn’t tell her about the library soon, Harriette was going to start prying.

“Perhaps we should simply ring for a dinner tray. Is there really any point to dressing this late in the day?” She’d deliberately stayed in her nightclothes so she wouldn’t give in to the urge to leave her room and find Colin.

“Only if you want Lady Miranda delivering the tray herself to see what the matter is.”

Georgina frowned. Harriette was right. Then again, she usually was. “I’ll go down to dinner.”

Her agreement didn’t mean she was happy about it though. She took her time dressing and swept into the drawing room at the latest acceptable moment, calling on every acting skill she’d developed.

“You’ve decided to grace us with your presence, I see.” Miranda crossed the room to kiss Georgina on the cheek. It was so much better than the pecks on the head they used to give her. Was there anything more condescending than a kiss on the head?