Page 78 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
Benedict swallowed, and returned to rummaging through the hamper to keep himself from staring at her mouth. “No, but I did ask for…ah, here it is. I believe I owe you a jar of preserves, Miss Harley?” He held the jar aloft triumphantly, quite pleased with himself, but to his surprise she looked taken aback. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no. I’m just…amazed you thought of the debacle with the preserves.” She flushed, then looked away.
“How could I not? My valet was in despair over the sticky mess it left on my evening shoes. He grumbles every time he looks at them.” Benedict spoke lightly, but when Georgiana still avoided his gaze, he lowered the jar of preserves to the table with a defeated thud. “I don’t understand, Georgiana. I thought you’d be pleased, but you seem upset.”
“No, no. That is, Iampleased. Indeed, it’s a kind gesture on your part. I justdidn’t think…”
“Didn’t think I was kind?” He gave her a half smile even as he hoped that wasn’t what she’d been about to say. He had dozens of flaws, but he’d never been accused of unkindness before.
She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I mean. I just never imagined you’d paid much mind tothe…preserves.”
She said “preserves,” but it wasn’t what she meant. This wasn’t about the bloody preserves. What she meant was she hadn’t imagined he’d paid much mind toher. How incredible she should think so, when he’d thought of nothingbuther since he’d returned to London—
No, that wasn’t true. His preoccupation with Georgiana Harley had started before that.
She’d haunted him since he’d first laid eyes on her.
The truth was, it had started in Maiden Lane, when she’d emerged from the darkness like an avenging angel, her tongue sharpened to a fine edge and wearing that damned brown cloak and the ridiculous hat she used to hide under. Only it hadn’t been enough, that hat. He’d seen beyond her disguise, had noticed the vulnerable curve of her lower lip, the slight shake of her hands when she’d delivered him a set-down he wouldn’t soon forget.
He’d seenher. Once he had, he couldn’tunseeher, and now…now he could see nothingbuther. The smooth, creamy skin that made his mouth water to kiss, to taste, and the rich brown tresses his fingertips itched to caress. Her slender curves, so sweet, that fit into his hands so perfectly, as if she were made just for him, and her hazel eyes, that flicker of temper in their depths he’d grown to crave, replaced now with a softness he’d never seen in them before.
Benedict cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’m fond of…preserves. Perhaps you didn’t realize how fond I amof…preserves.”
Christ, was he talking to her aboutpreserves?
If Georgiana thought it odd, she didn’t say so. “Oh, yes. Preserves are…” Her teeth sank into her lower lip. “Irresistible. The sweetness, you know, and the, ah…the pleasing thickness onone’s tongue.”
Her husky murmur, the unbearable eroticism of hearing the wordtongueon her lips—Benedict’s eyes slid closed as he prayed for strength. When he opened them again, her gaze had dropped to his mouth.
A groan tore from his chest, but he didn’t kiss her lips. He wanted to—God, how he wanted to—but they were alone in a cottage half-buried among the trees. It was a great deal of privacy for an amorous gentleman like himself. One kiss would lead to another, then another, and then…
No. He wouldn’tthink about it.
He leaned toward her, and pressed as chaste a kiss as he could manage on her forehead. Then he stepped back, and busied himself with unpacking the remainder of their provisions from the hamper. “Since we both dote on preserves, shallwe have some?”
* * * *
Georgiana had expected they’d leave for Lord Draven’s estate as soon as they’d finished their breakfast, but Benedict kept them in the cottage until the bright morning light had waned, so there was less of a chance they’d be detected moving through the forest.
There wasn’t much to do in the gamekeeper’s cottage while they waited for the light to change. Georgiana felt inexplicably shy around Benedict, and he didn’t seem to be much more comfortable than she was. She did notice him staring at her a good deal, but each time their gazes chanced to meet his darted away, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
After their encounter with Kenilworth’s scoundrels, she was as jumpy as a cat at the thought of the duke’s men pouncing on them when they left the cottage, but she was relieved when they were on their way at last, riding the two horses that had been hitched to Madame Célestine’s curricle. Either Benedict’s cautiousness had paid off, or luck was on their side at last, but they made it through the forest without encountering anyone.
But as soon as she got her first glimpse at Lord Draven’s estate, her heart sank. “It looks as if the house is closed.” There wasn’t a soul to be seen, not even a stray gardener, and all the shutters were drawn tight. “It’s sealed up like a tomb.”
“There has to be someone here. Remember, Draven was being taken to his country estate the day we spoke to Mrs. Bury.” Benedict’s brow furrowed as he frowned up at the house. “No, this way, Georgiana,” he added when she set her horse’s head in the direction of the main entrance. “We’ll go inthe back way.”
Georgiana followed him along the western edge of the tree line to the stables, which were clean and well-provisioned, but deserted. Benedict led their horses to two empty stalls, then they made their way across the back drive on foot to a door she suspected must lead into the kitchen. Benedict strode up to it and gave it a firm knock, as if he traipsed through the woods to this door every day, and hadn’t any doubt he’d be welcome.
It was some time before anyone answered the knock, long enough so Georgiana’s heart had begun to sink again, but when Benedict knocked a second time, she heard footsteps approach, and a moment later a stout, dark-haired woman with a kindly face answered the door. Her tidy gray dress and the ring of keys at her waist marked her as the housekeeper.
Her eyebrows flew up when she saw them. “My goodness. Where did you two come from?”
“Lord Haslemere, to see Lord Draven.” Benedict stepped up to the door, every inch the distinguished earl who couldn’t imagine he’dbe turned away.
“Oh, my lord, I beg your pardon. We’ve been here a week, and not set eyes on a single soul aside from the staff. It startled me, it did, finding you here on the doorstep.” The woman’s hands fluttered nervously. “But I’m afraid Lord Draven isn’t well, and isn’t able tosee visitors.”
Benedict raised a haughty eyebrow. “I’m the Earl of Haslemere, and an acquaintance of Lord Draven’s. I’m aware his lordship has had an…unfortunate accident. I’ve come to see how I might help him.”
