Miss Darcy Falls in Love (25 page)

But he was not prepared for how his senses were bombarded by merely entering the music room and laying eyes on the piano.
All
the
hours
spent
at
her
side, happier than I have ever been while witlessly denying my emotions. You are a fool and deserve to suffer.

He ran his fingers lightly over the keys. His leather portfolio sat upon the lid with several of the psalm sheets propped on the rest and scattered over the gleaming wood. The crisp pages written with the distinctive boldness of his notes showed numerous slight curls along the edges and faint smudges from tiny fingertips indicating her frequent playing. He rifled through the parchments, collecting the psalms from among the compositions written with her delicate strokes. There were at least a dozen songs that they had collaborated on, the pages filled with notations and music in both their penmanship, each sparking a crystalline memory.

Moisture stung his eyes and he shook his head violently to dispel the images.

Enough!

Fury rushed through him and angrily he gathered the sheets and stuffed them haphazardly into the folder. He snapped the case closed, slapping it harshly against the rim of the piano before shoving it under his arm. Reaching into the inner breast pocket of his jacket, his fingers brushed the folded letter but stiffened seconds later.

“Mr. Butler! I did not know you were here.”

His head jerked backward, every muscle twitching as if a knife had plunged between his shoulder blades. He froze, his hand falling to grasp the edge of the piano.

“I did not wish to disturb your rest. I came to retrieve my music,” he whispered, harsh and rasping without the slightest hint of warmth.

“Oh. I see. I apologize. I should have returned them long ago. Please forgive me.”

He closed his eyes, rigorously willing his body to not betray him. “There is nothing to forgive, Miss Darcy. I hope you enjoyed them.”

“I most assuredly did, very much. I confess I shall miss having them in my possession, but as I have memorized all of them, I suppose it does not matter. Thank you, again.”

Her voice was soft, tender even, but with a hint of confusion that he detected with tremendous remorse. Relaxing slightly, he turned to face her. He glanced briefly into her gorgeous eyes, noted the sadness therein, and quickly looked away.

“You look well, Miss Darcy. Are you fully recovered from your illness?”

“For the most part, yes. I have a residual weariness that I cannot seem to shake and my memory of that evening is hazy at best.” She stepped further into the room, drawing closer to him. “I recall seeing you there, Mr. Butler, by the staircase, but cannot be certain. Were you there?”

“Yes,” he murmured, reluctantly meeting her eyes and holding the gaze. “I was there. Very near Lord Caxton, your rescuer,” he finished with a bitter twist to his lips and low snarl to his voice.

She was frowning as if sorting through a puzzle. There was a question within her eyes, as if she were begging him for something, but he did not know what.

“Did you see me? Before my rather dramatic entrance, that is? I thought… that is, for a moment it seemed… but I am not sure.”

“Yes, I saw you,” he whispered.

“I was unsure and have wanted to ask, but our paths have not crossed. Until now.”

Sebastian’s mind was blank. Her words were spoken lightly but he sensed her encouraging for an explanation. The pain was threatening to overwhelm him and he had a sudden, savage need to escape.

“I apologize for my disassociation, but under the circumstances it is for the best. Pardon my intruding upon your solitude, Miss Darcy. I… I must be going.”

He ducked his head and lurched forward in a rush to pass her body, but she impulsively reached out and grabbed on to his forearm. Her grip was not overly strong, yet it halted his momentum as surely as a noose thrown about his chest. He gasped, his jaw tightening as the sensation of her touch pierced through him.

“Please! I beg of you, please tell me what I have done, what I have said to lose your friendship! I cannot bear it, Mr. Butler. I thought, I thought that you cared for me, that our friendship was real and—”

“I cannot be your
friend
,” he snapped.

She dropped her hand, stunned. “But…”

He lifted his head, piercing her with eyes dark from agony and suppressed passion. “I cannot be your
friend
. I will not be a
friend
when I want so much more! I will not watch you with
him
… God, Georgiana!
I
love
you!
”

And then he clasped her face between his palms, closed the small gap, and claimed her mouth in a hard kiss.

Georgiana stiffened in momentary shock. The declaration and impetuous movement startled her, but the feel of his warm, soft lips, even in the wild roughness of his attack, was intoxicating and amazing. She melted, pressed into him, and grasped onto his forearms for support. Instinctively, her mouth responded, her lips parting slightly and softening.

His crazed longing took advantage and with a groan he plunged his tongue between her lips. The kiss became more demanding while strangely tender, the grip about her face relaxing as he explored every aspect of her mouth. Then she opened wider, tentatively meeting his seeking tongue, Sebastian moaning as he sensed all control spiraling wildly beyond his reason.

The squeeze of her hands on his arms and soft curves pressing against his chest penetrated the haze of his passion. He wrest out of her grasp, releasing her lips with a strangled cry of pain. Desire was instantly replaced with numbing recrimination.
I
have
forced
a
kiss
from
a
lady
who
belongs
to
someone
else!
It was unconscionable. Shame nearly buckled him. The assault of emotions rendered him unfit to interpret her eager response for what it signified. He could not look at her, instead running a trembling hand over his face and stammering incoherently as he stepped away.

“I… I am sorry.”

Georgiana stood immobile long after the reverberating thud of the slammed front door was gone. She raised her fingers to touch her swollen lips and ruddy cheeks, both of which tingled from his touch. She was shivering uncontrollably, breathless, her heart pounding a soaring rhythm in her ears. It was glorious! The single most incredible moment of her life!

Already she knew she was lost, addicted, and desperate for more of him. In that instant, she suddenly comprehended precisely why her brother and Lizzy were continually drawn to touch each other. She also finally understood what Mrs. Annesley had meant by her analogies of unquenchable fires burning within. Merely from the touch of his lips, an inferno raged through her insides, ignited unknown places, and infused her with life as never sensed before.

This fire was nothing close to the simmers felt when in the presence of Lord Caxton. Suddenly, every shred of doubt evaporated and her fate was utterly sealed. All from three simple words and one kiss.

“It was not a fever dream! He does love me!”

Slowly, a beaming smile spread over her face and a deep laugh erupted from her throat as she performed an uninhibited pirouette with her arms waving freely. Then, after three exuberant twirls she abruptly stopped. She saw the truth behind his absence over the past weeks, his withdrawn posture and cold indifference in sharp contrast to the warmth prior, his desperation and agony as he kissed her, and mostly his references to Lord Caxton. Suddenly, the scene from the ball flashed through her mind clearly as if an act in a play.

“Oh, Sebastian,” she cried, dropping into a chair. “We are the biggest of fools, you and I!”

Her heart was freshly pounding but not from desire. That he was suffering with the false impression that she loved another caused all air to vacate her lungs. Panic rose within her chest. She had to talk to him…
now
! He had to know the truth of her feelings, so they could end this craziness.

She launched from the chair prepared to run the miles to his residence if need be. Damn propriety! But voices and laughter of the Matlocks and de Valdays entering the foyer halted her. The thought of Mr. Butler hurting for even another second was intolerable, but she must be sensible.

“Aunt Madeline will know how best to proceed,” she whispered, the uncontainable smile breaking out again. “Be patient, my love. Soon I shall be yours.”

***

Like Lady Warrow, Lady Matlock was aware of the tangled web her niece and Mr. Butler had unconsciously woven, watching the unfolding drama as patiently as possible. A large part of it was speculation on her part, since Georgiana possessed many of the typical Darcy traits so expertly wielded by her brother. Deciphering the thoughts of one who so adequately hides them behind silent composure is a difficult task. On several occasions, Lady Matlock felt that Georgiana was close to divulging, only to have her taciturn nature exert itself. Questions were deflected, conversations were vague, and replies were noncommittal. Georgiana made light of the situation, but the spoken hints and observed actions were enough for Lady Matlock to know that her niece’s heart was captured by the young musician, and Lady Matlock was convinced he was equally enthralled by Georgiana.

Georgiana’s pyrexic mumblings confirmed Lady Matlock’s suspicions. When confronted, Georgiana elaborated on their meaning to the sympathetic Lady Matlock, Lady Simone, and Mrs. Annesley, the full story thus revealed. Lady Matlock’s advice was to seek the aid of Lady Warrow, judging that she could solve the puzzle of Mr. Butler. Georgiana balked at this; her natural timidity and insecurity regarding his feelings paralyzed her.

“I quail at the image of his rejection, Aunt. To hear my worst fears bluntly confirmed will devastate me! I cannot bear it, not now.”

The older ladies accepted Georgiana’s pleas for the present, her health precariously perched and not strong enough to handle that degree of shock. Georgiana did ask for guidance in how to handle Lord Caxton, however.

Lady Matlock was against her niece having such a conversation with her persistent weakness and lingering symptoms, but Georgiana insisted on dealing with that situation immediately. There truly was little choice since the worried gentleman visited the townhouse a dozen times a day! The Matlocks grudgingly agreed to Georgiana’s demands, and there was no consolation in being proven correct when the stress endured did lead to a short relapse.

Georgiana’s spirit improved with that drama no longer hanging over her head, but her physical health was slower to catch up, so it was judged best not to tell her of Lord Caxton’s return two days later. Lady Matlock felt for the man’s obvious anguish, but his belligerence when requests to see Georgiana were denied erased some of her pity. Richard had been incensed and close to calling the baron out, but Lord Matlock managed to restore peace long enough to evict the crazed baron, who clung to the belief that they had an agreement.

Despite the serious nature of Georgiana’s influenza, the family speculated that her prolonged lassitude was not entirely physical. Upon returning from the exhibit it only took one glance at the incandescent glow upon her face and buoyant skip to her steps to confirm the theory.

“I cannot pinpoint the moment I knew I loved him,” Georgiana softly answered her aunt’s query. “My feelings of friendship evolved of their own volition, it appears. Nor do I have any idea when he recognized his love for me. It is a question I intend to ask, merely for my own curiosity,” Georgiana declared with a gay laugh.

The ladies sat in the cozy salon of the de Valday townhouse drinking warm beverages and snacking on hastily supplied treats while Georgiana recounted the past months’ interactions with Mr. Butler, culminating with the encounter in the music room.

“I was amazed when he kissed me,” Georgiana went on, blushing furiously. “I pray you are not angry with him, Aunt. Mr. Butler is a gentleman in every way that counts, but is it not desirable to allow the soul free rein upon occasion? Music is about stirring the soul and passionate feelings. I delight in this and cannot fault Mr. Butler for expressing his emotions in an active manner.”

“Absolutely not!” Yvette blurted. “It is so romantic!”

“Was his kiss divine?”

“I shall not answer that, Zoë,” Georgiana gasped, but her expression and physical reaction to the remembered kiss gave her away, the twins laughing gleefully.

“We have been tremendously foolish, Aunt,” Georgiana resumed once somewhat composed. “I have been certain Mr. Butler wished for no more than friendship and that his musical pathway too important to complicate with romance. I have no desire to interrupt his study and am determined to wait for him as long as necessary.”

“Do not fret over that aspect of the situation, Georgiana. Honestly, I doubt if Mr. Butler would consider his music more important that you.”