Page 75 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
Georgiana glanced at Benedict. His auburn hair was standing on end, his clothing was wrinkled and soiled from his brawl with the coachman the night before, there was a livid cut on his forehead from the scuffle with Kenilworth’s footman, and still…she’d never seen a man more handsome than he.
The thought made Georgiana’s heart lurch in her chest, and she swallowed as she turned back to Madame Célestine. “I’ll do my best.”
“Ah, Mademoiselle, that is all any of us can do.” To Georgiana’s surprise, MadameCélestineleaned forward and pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek. “And you, my lord. You will behave like a proper gentleman, yes?”
Benedict cleared his throat. “I’ll do mybest, madame.”
A tiny smirk rose to Madame Célestine’s lips. “Hmmm. You will have an exciting trip then, I think. Goodbye!”
With that, Madame Célestine sashayed across the room and disappeared through the door. Georgiana waited until the sound of her footsteps had faded before turning to murmur to Benedict, “She’s rather remarkable, isn’t she?”
He nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on Georgiana, his eyes dark and compelling. “She is, yes. I have a weakness for remarkable ladies.”
Georgiana’s cheeks heated once again, but she didn’t know quite what to say in answer, so they waited in silence until Madame Célestine’s coachman brought her curricle into the drive. The top was pulled up, to prevent their being recognized.
“Shall we, Miss Harley?” Benedict offered her his hand.
She took it, and he led her out to the drive and helped her into her seat, then climbed into his own seat and took up the ribbons. A moment later they were off in a shower of gravel, with Madame Célestine’s house retreating from sight behind them.
Georgiana didn’t expect she’d fall asleep, but between last night’s excitement and the drama of her confrontation with Benedict this morning, they were only an hour or so into their journey before her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off.
She woke with a start when the curricle hit a roughpatch of road.
“All right there?” Benedict glanced down at her, a tentative smile on his lips. “There was no avoiding that jolt, I’m afraid.”
Georgiana blinked up at him. He was very close, nearly on top of her, and—
No. Oh, dear God, hewasn’tnearly on top of her.Shewas nearlyon top ofhim.
Again.
Her head rested on the warm, solid curve of his shoulder, where she must have slumped against him when she grew drowsy. Judging by the afternoon light, she’d been asleep for at least an hour, and lounging on him the entire time.
She scrambled upright and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I beg your pardon, Lord Haslemere. I shouldn’t have been…why didn’t you wake me, or at least nudge me over to my own sideof the bench?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t mind it.”
She cast him a wary look. My, he was being awfully gentlemanly about this, wasn’t he? Her lapse in propriety gave him the perfect opportunity to tease her, but aside from the satisfied grin hovering at the corners of his mouth, he held his tongue. Hehadpromised Madame Célestine he’d behave himself. Perhapshe’d meant it.
There was no reason that thought should make her heart sink, but there was a heaviness in her chest she’d never felt before. She couldn’t explain it, but it felt like…disappointment? No, something deeper than disappointment, sharper than that. Something that had sunk into the edges of her heart and was dragging it downinto her belly.
“If you look to your right, you can see glimpses of Cliveden House through the trees. The Duke of Buckingham built it for his mistress, the Countessof Shrewsbury.”
Georgiana turned to look, curious to see the house, and also relieved to have an excuse to look away from Lord Haslemere, who was being altogether too charming for her liking. They were traveling down a rutted country road lined on both sides with a hedge so thick it was difficult to see beyond it, but after a moment she caught a fleeting glimpse of a corner of a stone manor house. “Yes,I think I see…”
She trailed off with a gasp as they came to a slight gap in the hedge, and the whole of Cliveden House in all its breathtaking splendor appeared in the valley below them, like a warm, honey-colored jewel set into endless rolling acres of verdant green. “Oh,” she breathed, raising her hand to her mouth. “It’s magnificent.”
Indeed, Georgiana found it difficult to tear her gaze away from it. She’d never seen a house so grand as this one. It was enormous, seeming to sprawl from one end of the valley to the other, and even from here she could see a patchwork of formal gardens and walkways branching out from the main house.
“Is your own estate anything like it?” She knew, of course, that gentlemen of rank had handsome country estates—everyone in England knew that—but it had never occurred to her to wonder what onemight be like.
“Haslemere House is a monstrous old pile of rocks.” Benedict chuckled. “Damp, and the eastern roof leaks every winter, at least half a dozen of the fireplaces bellow smoke, and the glazing seems to require constant repair. But I’m rather fond of it, despite its many quirks. I find I spend more time there than London these days. I imagine I’ll give up on London entirely at some point, and spend all my time in Surrey, rusticating.”
“You’d give up all your London frolics in favor of country living? You shock me, my lord. Whatever will London do without you?” Georgiana smiled to take any sting out of her words, but in truth, she really was shocked.
He laughed. “There are only so many footraces a man can run before he becomes bored of them, Georgiana.”
“But you’re…” Georgiana found she had no idea how to explain what she wished to say, and lapsed into silence.
