Two Beaux and a Promise Collection (5 page)

Richard couldn’t allow it, but he had no delusions about the lengths to which Herriard would go to regain possession of Georgiana. The only true protection he could offer her was his name.

Heat pooled in his groin.

He must wed soon if he wanted his mother to attend the ceremony. Assuring the succession would ease her mind at a time when fretting worsened her condition. With Emily now wed, marriage became even more urgent, for Emily had run the household for years. So he’d intended to use the remainder of the Season to find a wife.

Fate seemed to be helping him. Georgiana was much like his ideal wife. Marginal breeding. No fortune to speak of – merchants’ dowries would hardly impress society. Excellent training. And after five years as Herriard’s slave, even his modest circumstances would seem like heaven. As a bonus, her antipathy to society meant they could remain in the country much of the year, reducing his expenses.

He’d stayed in London after coming down from school because he’d needed freedom from his parents’ scrutiny. And because liaisons were more difficult to arrange in Gloucestershire. But marriage negated both reasons. The Beaux had long since taken vows of marital fidelity.

This was no time to broach the subject, though. Despite that riding off alone technically compromised her, he felt no obligation, for she was unharmed and would remain so. He had time to learn more about her, for they could not wed before her birthday. But soon…

He nodded as the spinney appeared around the corner. His immediate goal was to slip back into London without Herriard’s knowledge. Once she was safely hidden, he could consider the future.

* * * *

Georgiana bit back a whimper as pain slashed up her leg, buckling her knee. Only grabbing a branch kept her upright. Walking a hundred yards had seemed easy when Richard had suggested it, but she’d barely made it.

She leaned weakly against a tree, praying that he could slip away without drawing Derrick’s attention. She couldn’t move another step. But at least Richard had revived her determination to escape. Giving up had never been her way. Even if Derrick won, she had to thank Richard for renewing her hope and her courage. She would not face her fate as a coward.

He’ll win, whispered a voice in her mind. Derrick always does. No one can keep you safe.

Her newfound courage wavered, then collapsed entirely when hoofbeats approached along the road.

Derrick!

She tried to dodge behind the tree, but her legs wouldn’t move. A sob escaped. When Richard appeared, she nearly swooned in relief.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, sliding to the ground. The horse stood dully behind him, showing no sign of spirit. A sluggard.

“Of course,” she answered.

His eyes turned skeptical. “How bad is the pain?”

She sighed. “I can’t walk another step.”

He cut off a curse. “I shouldn’t have—”

“There was no other choice.”

“I know, but…”  He shook his head, then lifted her across the horse, mounting behind her. Before she realized his intent, she was tight against his chest with his cloak encasing both of them. She had to work to keep from melting against him. His heat was too enticing, especially when his hand caressed her arm before taking up the reins. He was a rake to the bone.

“Relax, Georgiana,” he murmured, letting the horse pick its way through the spinney. “I will take care of you. Herriard won’t threaten you again.”  His mouth nearly touched her ear.

“He won’t give up.”

“He will have no choice. So set aside your fear.”  His arms pulled her closer against him. Her heartbeat quickened to match his.

She fought the warmth that spread from his touch. This sudden seductiveness – for how else could she describe his current behavior? – was suspicious, to say the least. Her fortune would tempt a saint, and God knew the Beaux weren’t saints, especially Richard. Now that they were alone, he might claim compromise, forcing her into marriage.

It wouldn’t be force.

Of course it would, she snapped at Temptation. She had no use for aristocrats and less for fortune hunters. Tying herself to Richard would destroy her.

They emerged from the trees and turned down a footpath between two fields, heading straight into the setting sun.

She stiffened. “I thought we were returning to London.”

“We are, but not by the Brighton road. Herriard’s carriage cannot follow us if we circle out to Richmond before turning back to town.”

“We’ll never make it before dark,” she protested. It would have been difficult anyway, but now they wouldn’t reach London for many hours.

“It can’t be helped. The ostler knows I am returning to town, which means that Herriard will also know. I hope he believes we parted company, but we can’t count on it, so remaining on the road is foolish.

She had to admit the logic of his argument. Riders could go anywhere, while drivers were restricted to roads. And even if Derrick left his carriage behind and hired a horse – which was unlikely, given his finances – he would have no trail to follow.

She relaxed, letting her head fall against Richard’s shoulder. She knew she shouldn’t, but she was tired and in too much pain to care. She needed to absorb his strength. There would be time later to plan the next step.

* * * *

Richard smiled when Georgiana fell asleep. She felt good curled against him. And maybe she finally trusted him.

But his smile soon slipped. The horse was a slug that refused to move faster than a walk. He’d known the moment the groom led it out that it would be a problem, but raising a fuss would have drawn unwanted attention. And a better horse would have cost more than he had. His pride had turned down a loan from Jacob, which in retrospect had been stupid. He should have foreseen that plans could change, separating them from the carriage and Oakhaven.

Feeling far too exposed, he picked a path between fields and along rutted lanes, keeping hedgerows and stands of trees behind him. He also bypassed villages, for the fewer people who saw them, the more likely they would reach London undetected.

An hour passed before his fears waned. There was no sign of pursuit and no interest in their passage.

A second hour slid by. The sun dipped lower, playing peekaboo with the treetops and dazzling his eyes whenever it pierced the foliage.

Georgiana stirred in his arms.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Mmm.”  She stiffened as her eyes blinked open.

“Relax.”  He shifted her to a more comfortable position, ignoring what the motion did to his groin. “Are you thirsty?”

“Not quite.”

“We should stop, though. London is still hours away. Most travelers halt at dusk, so seeking refreshments now will draw less notice than it would later.” 

“Are we at Richmond yet?”

“No. It’s about five miles north of us.”

“We could stop there.”

An objection hovered on his lips, for he hadn’t intended to go through Richmond itself, where he would likely encounter acquaintances – and not only his peers. Most of the innkeepers knew him, for he’d often eaten there with friends or liaisons.

Running into friends would settle the question of marriage, though. Georgiana would have to accept him, saving him from an argument. He could already imagine her objections.

But she had no idea how hard it would be to set up her own establishment. Nor did she understand how isolated she would become if she tried. It would sever any ties to society, of course. But her father’s peers would also condemn her. Where would she find friends?  Marriage was clearly her best course. Even if a few brows lifted now, she would be ennobled when he inherited the viscountcy. That would terminate any doubts. The easiest way to assure that course was to be caught traveling together.

“Very well,” he agreed. “Richmond it is. The Crown and Anchor has excellent ale and a meat pie that melts in your mouth.”  It was also the inn most likely to be jammed with acquaintances.

He turned north, following another footpath between two fields.

* * * *

Georgiana was appalled that she’d fallen asleep in Richard’s arms. How had she relaxed so thoroughly?  Her ankle should have kept her awake, if nothing else.

But this proved how dangerous he could be. One heated look from those brown eyes could seduce a statue, and those talented hands… 

He’d carried her, held her, embraced her, caressed her. It was the first time she’d been touched since her father’s death. She had never considered herself susceptible to male charm, so it was unnerving to realize how vulnerable she really was. A little kindness, a little warmth, and she melted into a pool of need.

It had to stop.

To divert her mind, she concentrated on her naïveté. Only an idiot would have thought Derrick would give up the income from her trust. He’d been living on it for five years. Losing it would force him to sell the town house and retire to his derelict country estate. He hated the country. And now that she understood his character, she had to admit that Margaret had saved her from an even worse fate. If Derrick had not already been saddled with a wife five years ago, he would have forced her to the altar much earlier. With him.

An intelligent ward would have run away long ago, slipping out when everyone was asleep. London was big enough so that he would never have found her. And proper planning would have turned up someone to help her. Someone besides a notorious rake.

Instead she had grown complaisant, thinking that caring for the boys made her indispensable. So while she’d dreamed of breaking free once she controlled her inheritance, she had done nothing to further that goal, not even consider the obstacles she would face. Learning that unwed ladies required guardians had shocked her. It wasn’t true of gentlemen, who were free when they came of age. But Derrick’s guardianship would not have ended. Nor would he have stopped dipping into her funds. He would have found a way to confiscate everything.

What else had her ignorance overlooked?

Richard’s arm shifted along her back, sending excitement rippling along her skin. Even his inadvertent touches burned her to the core. They felt nothing like her grandfather’s pats as she’d cried on his shoulder after the funeral. Nor did they resemble her father’s protective hugs – or even his congratulatory ones when he’d shared her excitement over a new accomplishment.

She banished the memories. Richard was not for her. No one was, least of all a fortune hunter.

To distract herself from his touch, she studied the sun as it dipped below the horizon, turning previously unnoticed cloudlets a brilliant orange. Lingering rays pierced the gathering night. “Pretty.”

“Very. Are you warm enough?”  He tugged his cloak tighter – forcing her closer against his chest.

“Quite.”

“How is your ankle?”

“Much better. It no longer throbs.”

“I wouldn’t risk walking on it, though. The Crown and Anchor has a private parlor just inside the door, so I’ll carry you.”

“I can walk that far,” she protested, not wanting to appear in public in his arms.

“We’ll see.”  His tone made it clear that she would not walk, but she didn’t argue. Time enough for that later.

He forded a stream, then turned down a narrow road. “We’ll have to follow lanes from now on,” he said. “Darkness makes it hard to see the footpaths. I don’t want to ruin someone’s crops.”

His concern surprised her even more than his courtesy in stopping at the Yellow Oak so Hawthorne’s staff needn’t provide an unexpected meal. The aristocrats she knew cared only for themselves. Few would notice if they trampled a tenant’s fields or disrupted a household. Fewer would care. Especially Derrick, who delighted in exerting his authority over underlings.

Richard’s consideration was even odder, for it did not mesh with the Beaux’ reputations as conscienceless rakehells. Which raised questions about Richard’s character. Did gossip malign him?

“Why did you let your sister wed a rake like Hawthorne?”  The question was out before she realized how rude it sounded.

“Jacob?”  He sounded surprised. “He is one of the best men I know.”

“But his reputation—”

“If you judge people solely on gossip, what are you doing with me?”

“I’m not quite sure,” she admitted with a sigh. “I’ve had no time to think since fleeing this morning. It gave me a jolt to realize you were one of the Beaux.”

“I suppose it was too much to hope you hadn’t heard of us.”

“Quite.”  She grinned. “People more isolated than I am know of your exploits.”

“Not true. Oh, they’ve doubtless heard tales, but most rumors are exaggerated, and many are downright false.”

“Really?”  She twisted to look him in the eye.

“Really. Gossip loves scandal, so it twists anything out of the ordinary to make it more shocking. Events that contradict a scandalous image get swept under the rug. Virtues are ignored unless their owners are saints. Too boring.”

“Are you saying that you didn’t loose a bear in Lord Cardway’s drawing room, where his prospective bride’s father would find it?”

He laughed. “That one is true, I must admit. But a great many details disappeared in the retelling.”

“Such as?”

“The girl had already refused Cardway’s suit, but her father insisted she accept him – Cardway had offered a fortune for her. Very like Stagleigh’s offer for you.”

She gasped.

“Exactly. Cardway was obsessed with her – she is quite lovely. Convinced that she was just being coy, he ignored her refusal. Only after her father encountered the bear did the man reconsider the proposed alliance. By the time he learned that Cardway was not responsible for his scare, his daughter had accepted another suitor. Someone she loved.”

“How did you become involved?”

“The man she loved is a friend.”

“So why not tell people the truth?”

“Sometimes truth can do more harm than good. Cardway is a wealthy viscount, which makes him a marital prize. Her father was admired for negotiating such a good match. Had people known about her refusal, they would have ridiculed her, reducing her credit. Had they learned why the bear was there, I would have been roundly condemned for interfering. So I let people believe that a joke on Cardway had gone awry. Better for all concerned.”