Page 77 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
“That, ah…that leaves us with only one bed.” Benedict glanced around the room, as if he could conjure another bed simply by force of will alone, then returned his gaze to hers, his throat moving in a swallow. “I’ll sleep in oneof the chairs.”
Georgiana opened her mouth to tell him they could each take a side and share the bed, but then she closed it again without a word. Sharing a bed had seemed like a harmless enough idea last night, but he’d nearly broken his neck to get away from her this morning.
No, she couldn’t go through that again. So, she swallowed her words and nodded. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea, Lord Haslemere.”
From now on, it was best if they kepttheir distance.
Chapter Eighteen
When Benedict woke the following day, his neck was stiff and his back cramped from sleeping on the chair all night. If it hadn’t been for that—well, that and the Duke of bloody Kenilworth trying to kill them—it would have been the most pleasurable morning of his life.
He opened his eyes to the soft sound of Georgiana’s deep, even breaths, and raised himself up onto his elbow, hoping to steal a peek at her face before she awoke. He was treated to a delicious glimpse of her long eyelashes resting on her flushed cheeks, and her loose, mahogany-brown waves spread in wild disarray across the pillow.
Benedict let out a sigh and flopped dramatically onto his back, like every lovelorn fool before him. It wasn’t the first morning he’d woken with a lovely lady in his bedchamber, but it was the first time his chest pinched with longing and despairas it did now.
He’d never felt about any of the others the way he did about Georgiana Harley.
She wasn’t a distraction, nor was his attraction to her a passing thing, sure to pall with familiarity. When they’d paused to look down on Cliveden House yesterday, he’d pictured Haslemere House in his head. He’d imagined bringing Georgiana there with him, leading her from room to room, and showing her all the private corners and nooks he’d taken such delight in when he’d wandered those halls as a child.
That had never happened before. He’d never even considered bringing a lady to Haslemere House, but kept his liaisons confined to the London townhouse. Now here he was, wishing he could fling open the front doors of his most sacred place and reveal everything about himself to her.
And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Or abouther. He couldn’t have her. Even if they did find Clara Beauchamp and learned the duke’s secret, there was no way of knowing how the discovery would affect Freddy and Jane. As long as they remained in England, the duke had complete control over them. If the only way to keep them out of Kenilworth’s clutches was to leave England, then that’s what he would do.
North America perhaps, or—
“Benedict?”
He turned his head, warmth flooding through him at her soft murmur, his Christian name on her lips. “I’m here.”
The coverlet rustled as she shifted in the bed. “What time is it?”
He fumbled for his pocket watch and flipped open the lid. “Early still. Go back to sleep, sweet—go back to sleep, Georg—er, Miss Harley.”
She let out a little sigh that went straight to his cock. “It’s not yetcalling hours?”
Benedict chuckled. “Are we observing calling hours? Given we’re sneaking through the forest to pay a secret visit to Draven, I thought we might dispense with the proprieties.”
“Well, let’s see.” Georgiana rolled from her back to her side to face him. “We’ve kidnapped a duchess and her son, stolen a duke’s carriage, and you’ve assaulted his coachman and footmen. So yes, I suppose there’s no point in fussing over a call.”
“No, especially since we may be forced to break down Draven’s door to gain admittance to him. Something tells me he won’t be pleased to find us on his doorstep. If he’s even conscious, that is.”
“Poor Lord Draven.” She was quiet for a moment. “What if he isn’t conscious, or is, but sends us away without speaking to us? I suppose we’ll have to quiz the servants then, though I don’t know how far that will get us, as most of them have only been in Lord Draven’s service since the attack.”
“Not far. We’ll just have to hope Draven has regained consciousness and is willing to talk to us. I’ve no doubt he knows Kenilworth’s secrets. If we want to find them out, we have to move quickly, before Kenilworth has a chance to organize his men.” Benedict heaved himself up from the chair, wincing as he stretched his cramped muscles, then padded across the cold flagstone floors to the door of the cottage. “Are you hungry?”
As if on cue, her stomach let out an insistent growl that made him grin, and her cheeks flush. “Why, are you preparing breakfast, my lord?”
“Certainly not. I haven’t the first idea how to do so. I did, however, have the foresight to request provisions from Madame Célestine.” He disappeared through the front door, and returned a few moments later bearing a large hamper.“Here we are.”
Georgiana blinked at it, then struggled upright in the bed. “My goodness. I’m impressed, my lord.”
“I don’t fancy starving in the woods.” Benedict was busy unloading the hamper as he spoke, but he watched from the corner of his eye as Georgiana swung her legs over the side of the bed and approached the table. She’d slept in her dress again the previous night, and her long hair was tumbling over her shoulders in a ripple of unruly waves. “What shall I serve you?”
“Hmmm. If you’re offering to serve me my breakfast in bed, Lord Haslemere, perhaps I’llreturn to it.”
A shy smile crossed her delectable lips, and Benedict was assailed with a vivid image of the two of them lying in bed together while he fed her the choicest morsels from the hamper. It was too tempting to resist. “If you wish me to serve you in bed, princess, I will. What will you have first?”
“Hmm. Fresh strawberries? Warm scones with clotted cream? Hot tea, or…no, I think I prefer chocolate.” Her lips curved in a teasing smile. “Surely you have all that there, my lord?”
