Rogue Grooms (23 page)

He had nearly turned and gone back to England, at the thought of what she might unleash upon him when he dared to show his face to her.

But the memory of other times, of happier moments, kept him moving steadfastly forward. If she would only smile at him again, he would gladly
walk
to Venice, and beg on his knees on her doorstep.

If only . . .

The thought of her sun-from-behind-clouds smile sustained him. Alex stepped up to the door and banged the lion head knocker.

For a long time nothing happened. The door did not open; no one appeared at any of the windows. Alex began to fear that Georgina was far from home, that perhaps she had gone instead to her lakeside villa.

Then, so abruptly that he almost fell back off the doorstep, the door was pulled open.

A small, round Italian woman stood there, her dark hair springing loose from her sheer cap. She wore a muslin apron over an extraordinary gown of carmine velvet, and held a bottle of wine in her hand.

“Si?”
she said.

“I do beg your pardon, er, signora,” Alex said, a bit taken aback. “Is this the home of Signora Beaumont?”

The woman’s dark gaze flickered over him, taking in his traveling clothes of buckskins and a deep green greatcoat. He resisted the urge to smooth his wind-tousled hair, and wished he had taken the time to shave.

Apparently what she saw pleased her, though, because she smiled widely. “Oh,
si,
Signora Beaumont lives here. You bring a gift, no?”

Alex thought of the small box in his pocket, that held the ruby ring that had been his grandmother’s. He supposed that could qualify as a gift. “No. That is, yes. I bring a gift.”

“Va bene.
If you give it to me, I will put it with the others.”

Others?
“I would prefer to present it to the lady myself. If she is at home.”

The woman examined him again. “She is at home, but she is working. The Countess d’Onofrio is here for her sitting. I have been with Signora Beaumont many years, and I know better than to bother her while she is working.” She winked. “You know how it is?”

Alex smiled. “Of course I would not wish to
bother
her. Perhaps I could just wait in the drawing room until she is finished. I have come a very long way to give her this gift, you see,” he said cajolingly.

She glanced over her shoulder, then said, “Very well. But you might have a long wait.”

It felt as if it had been an eternity already. “I do not mind.”

“Hmph. Then follow me.” She opened the door wider to let him in, then shut it behind him and led him down a narrow, painting-lined corridor. “I am Bianca, by the way.”

“How do you do, Bianca. I am Alexander Kenton.” Somehow, he did not think it a good idea to throw his title about around here.

“Well, you may wait here, Signor Kenton.” Bianca ushered him into a drawing room, and pushed the bottle of wine she held into his hand. “I was to take this to the studio, but you may have it.”

Then the odd little maid was gone, closing the door behind her.

Left alone, Alex surveyed his surroundings. It was not a large room, but it was bright and airy from the many tall windows. The chairs and settees were of a light carved wood, upholstered in azure and cream. Small
objets,
boxes and figurines, were scattered on the tables; several paintings in Georgina’s bold style hung on the blue-painted walls. He could also see what Bianca had meant when she said
others
. There were flowers piled along one wall, gaily wrapped parcels stacked on the pale blue carpet, letters laying unopened on the desk.

Alex laughed wryly, and turned away from the offerings to where a fire burned in the grate.

Above the fireplace of white marble hung a portrait of Georgina, a lovely work in a somewhat softer style than Georgina’s own. The folds of her purple satin gown shimmered as if real; the painted smile was Georgina to the life, mischievous and merry.

Alex moved closer, and saw the “Elizabeth H” signature in the canvas’s corner.

There, in that room, he felt closer to Georgina than he had in weeks. Why, he could almost smell the sweetness of her rose perfume.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Then he heard soft footsteps in the corridor, a gentle swish of a silk skirt. He opened his eyes.

He forgot to breathe as the door slowly opened.

“Why, Alex!” Georgina cried. “You are turning quite white. Are you about to swoon?”

 

Georgina had scarce been able to believe her ears when Bianca had told her who was downstairs in the drawing room.

Her hand had begun to tremble, so she carefully placed her brush down on the palette. “Did you say—Kenton, Bianca?”

“Si.
Alexander Kenton.”

“Are you quite sure?”

Bianca snorted in affront. “My hearing is excellent, signora! He said he has brought you a gift, but when I said I would put it with the others, he insisted he give it to you himself.”

“Did he?” A gift. Alex had come all the way from England to give her a
gift?

The mind reeled at the thought of what it could be.

“Si
. I have put him in the drawing room, signora, because he said he would wait for however long it took for you to finish your work.”

Alex,
here!
In her very house. It only just began to sink in. Oh, how she wanted to fly down the stairs to him!

She looked over to the countess, who had been listening to them with the greatest interest.

The countess made a shooing motion with the ostrich feather fan she held. “Go,
cara,
go! I will come back another day.”

“Are you certain, Countess?” Georgina said.

“
Amore
is so much more important than any old portrait!” she answered, already stepping down from the dais where she posed. “I must be returning to my
caro sposo
now, anyway.”

Georgina laughed. “Then, I will see you again on Wednesday!”

She tugged off her paint-stained smock, and looked quickly in the mirror to smooth her hair back into its ribbon bandeau, and adjust her yellow silk dress. Then she ran off down the stairs.

But as she neared the closed drawing room door, doubts again assailed her. What if he had only come to berate her again? To demand that she cease the correspondence that had been going on between her and Emily? To insist again on paying her back the blasted money?

“Don’t be a goose!” she whispered to herself. “Why would he come all the way to Venice just to quarrel?”

He would not, of course. That would be silly. His presence here could only indicate something positive.

Could it not?

Georgina took a steadying breath, and reached out to push open the door before she could lose her courage.

It was indeed Alex, standing before her fireplace, looking impossibly handsome with his tousled golden brown hair and his beard-roughened jaw.

And also looking as pale as the marble he stood beside.

“Are you about to swoon?” she cried out.

Alex turned to her, his blue eyes lighting. He started toward her, but then halted abruptly, reaching out a steadying hand to the mantel.

“Certainly not,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Soldiers
never
swoon, you know.”

“Not even at the sight of blood?” Georgina said inanely, feeling thoroughly giddy.

“Not even then. Though I fear
this
soldier may swoon at the sight of you.”

“Why? Because I look that hideous?”

Alex shook his head. “Because you look that lovely. The most beautiful sight I have ever seen.”

Georgina gave a half sob, half laugh. Her heart felt so full at that moment, so overflowing with joy. Never had she felt such happiness before; she knew that when she was an old woman, lying on her deathbed, this was what she would remember. The sight of Alex, bathed in golden sunlight, his gaze beseeching and besotted as he looked at her, and the warmth of love wrapped all about them.

She raced across the room to throw her arms about his neck, clinging as if she would never let go, her tears wet on his shoulder. His own arms tightened around her, and she felt the press of his kisses in her hair.

“I thought you would
never
come!” she sobbed. “Emily wrote that you were gone to the Continent on business, and I hoped, hoped against hope, that you were coming here. But you never did!”

“I came as fast as I could, but there was a storm and I was delayed. I went to the Hollingsworths’ house the very day after, but you were gone.”

“I know, I was so foolish! I was frightened. I ran away.” Georgina pulled away to look at him. “I will not run away again, I swear to you. I am sorry.”

“No!” Alex protested. “I am sorry. I was the one who was such a cabbage-head. Being such an ass about the money. I am surprised that you can even think of forgiving me.”

Georgina shook her head, puzzled. “I should not have given Emily that money without your knowledge. You had a right to be upset.”

“No. My pride was hurt, true. I, well, I have always been so used to being the one in control. To ordering my regiment about, to having everything that is expected of me, and what I could expect of my men, known,” Alex said, struggling to explain something that even he did not fully understand. “Then I came home, and I found that my brother’s actions had taken away that control. I knew what was expected of me, as a son and brother and as a duke, but I did not know how to fulfill those expectations. I was so accustomed to quite another life.”

Georgina nodded in understanding. “Oh, Alex. Yes, I see.”

“And, in the midst of my struggle, you appeared. So beautiful and glorious, like no one I had ever known. I wanted to give you the sun and stars, but I knew I could not.”

“Alex,” Georgina sniffled. “You
do
give me the sun and stars. Just by being here, by speaking with me so honestly, you give me all the universe.”

“I want to give you so much more. I want to give you jewels and carriages and silk carpets.”

“I have all those things! I have come to discover that they are all as naught, next to you, next to what we could have together. If we can only quit berating ourselves, and give ourselves a chance.”

Alex’s grasp tightened on her shoulders. “Yes. That is what I have found myself, when I thought I had lost you forever because I had behaved like a fool. You gave Emily that money out of your generous heart, to help me and my family. And I was cruel to you for it, which I will regret for the rest of my life.”

“No, Alex . . .”

“Yes! My ridiculous pride was wounded. But I know that pride was a foolish thing to cling to, when it had lost me you and your love.” Alex let go of her shoulders, and went down on one knee before her, reaching into his coat pocket for a small box.

He opened it to reveal an exquisite ring of a deep red ruby surrounded by diamonds.

Georgina clapped her hand to her mouth, her tears flowing down her cheeks.

“I love you, Georgina Beaumont,” he said, his own voice thick with tears. “So very much. Please, forgive a foolish old army man his misplaced pride. Please, marry me, and be my duchess.”

Georgina removed her hand from her mouth, and choked out, “Yes. I will marry you, Alexander Kenton.”

Alex slid the ring onto her finger, above the narrow gold band Mr. Beaumont had given her so long ago. Then he bent over her hand, and placed a gentle kiss there.

It was a tender scene, one Georgina had painted on many a fantastically romantic set for
Romeo and Juliet
, or
Pelleas and Melissande,
but one which she had never thought could happen to her.

It
was
happening, though. Alex’s kiss was warm on her skin; the weight of the ring heavy on her finger. It
was
happening, and, for this moment, life was perfection.

Georgina knelt beside Alex, and leaned forward to press her lips against his.

“Oh, Alex,” she sighed as their gentle kiss ended and her head sank to his shoulder, “what took you so long?”

He laughed, his breath gently stirring in her hair. “I do not know. I should have asked you to marry me the very day we met, directly after I fished Lady Kate from the river. How is the little imp?”

“Very well, getting fat from all the extra treats Bianca feeds her! She will be delighted to see
you
again.”

“As I will to see her. I never liked dogs much, but Lady Kate is quite special.”

“Of course she is! She brought us together, did she not?”

They sat together on the carpet, as the shadows lengthened and the fire died, resting in full silence in each other’s arms.

Eventually they moved to the settee, where Alex opened the bottle of wine Bianca had given him, and poured out two glasses of the ruby liquid.

“To my bride!” he toasted.

“Oh, no!” Georgina protested. “To
us.”

“Yes, indeed. To
us.”

Georgina sipped at the wine thoughtfully. “There is still one problem, Alex dear.”

Alex leaned back against a silk cushion with a contented sigh. “Indeed? I cannot imagine what it is.”

“I still have a great deal of money.”

Alex laughed. “What, you mean you have not spent it all these last weeks? I promise I will not hold it against you.”

“Of course I have not spent it all!” Georgina laughed in return, and nestled her head against his shoulder. She inhaled deeply of his lovely soapy, woolly scent, and smiled in contentment.

“Georgina,” Alex said after a moment.

“Yes, dear?”

“I do have one condition on our union.”

Georgina sat back up, and looked at him sharply, startled out of her contented cloud. “Oh? And what might that be?”

“That no matter what the law says, your money is yours alone, to do with as you like.”