Page 84 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
He was right, of course, but that didn’t stop Georgiana’s cheeks from heating with humiliation. “I beg your pardon if my riding doesn’t meet with your approval, Lord Haslemere.” She was aware of how petty she sounded, how like a whining child, but her pride was stung, and worse, well…she felt almost as if she might burst into tears, which was so ridiculous as to be intolerable.
She didn’t burst into floods of tears,ever, and she wouldn’t start now.
Tears were absolutely out ofthe question.
“If I’d grown up on a grand estate with a stable full of horses at my disposal, perhaps I’d ride like the cavalry as you do,” she said resentfully.“But as it is—”
“Hang the cavalry. Come down from there.”
He reached up to wrap his hands around her waist, but Georgiana squirmed away from him. “I can’t get down on my—” She broke off at the sound of a low, angry rumble coming from his chest. “Did you just…growlat me?”
Benedict, however, had evidently run out of patience, because instead of dignifying her question with a reply, he reached up, grasped her waist in his strong hands and jerked her from the saddle.
“Lord Haslemere! How dare—”
“I said,enough.” He set her on her feet, but kept his hands on her waist, keeping her body close to his.
Georgiana would have died before she’d admit it, but as the blood rushed back into her limbs, her knees threatened to buckle, and she clung to his muscled forearms, grateful for those commanding hands and the solid, steady strength of him. She glanced up into his face, and was puzzled to find him staring down at her with wrathful dark eyes. “You, ah…you look angry.”
His fingers tightened around her waist. “That’s because I am angry, Georgiana.”
Oh, that was unmistakably a growl.
“Because I can’t ride?” But of course, that was the reason. He was anearl, for pity’s sake, and accustomed to ladies who rode as well as they walked. It must be tedious in the extreme for him to be stuck withher. The thought was unexpectedly painful, and when she spoke, her voice wasn’t quite steady. “Well, I beg your pardon if I can’t—”
“I don’t give a bloody damn if you can ride or not. I’m angry because you didn’t simply tell me you couldn’t make it this far on horseback. I thought we were past this sort of nonsense, Georgiana.”
Georgiana had trained her gaze on her feet in order to avoid looking at him, but his words made her eyes snap back to his, and she was stunned to see a shadow of hurt cross his face. He wasn’t angry because he was disappointed in her. He was angry because he’d wanted to take care of her, and she’d deprived himof that chance.
That wasnotthe sting of tears in her eyes, no matter how much it felt like it was.
His arm muscles tightened as if he were going to pull away, but before she could reason herself out of it, Georgiana clutched at the fabric of his coat to keep him with her. “I…you’re right. It was foolish of me. I’m sorry, Benedict.”
She offered him a tentative smile, and though he didn’t quite return it, his face softened. “We’ll continue the journey in a hired carriage, as I have an aversion to dragging an exhausted lady across a half-dozen counties in England. Madame Célestine’s horses need a rest, in any case. We can fetch them onthe way back.”
“Won’t that take too much time?” If they didn’t reach Great Missenden soon, they wouldn’t be able to visit the parish churchuntil tomorrow.
“No.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “No arguments. Go inside and order us luncheon while I arrange for a carriage. I’ve no wish to starve you, either.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, but turned and strode off in the direction of the stables. Georgiana watched him go, his broad shoulders straight, his long legs eating up the ground at his feet, and an odd breathlessness overtook her, born of both tenderness and panic. If he’d been the frivolous, selfish lord she’d expected him to be, all this would have been so much easier, but Benedict Harcourt was nothing likeshe’d imagined.
She tore her gaze away and turned toward the entrance of the inn, but she couldn’t shake the feeling Jane and Freddy weren’t the only ones at risk.
Now, it was also her heart, and every moment she spent with Benedict Harcourt, the greater the risk she’dlose it to him.
* * * *
Great Missenden proved to be a typical English village, sleepy despite its proximity to the larger town of Wendover. Lee Old Church was a small building of pale gold stone with arched, whitewashed windows, rather pretty but not remarkable, and situated at the end of a narrow, tree-lined lane.
“Remote, isn’t it?” Benedict gazed out the carriage window. “Difficult to find, if one doesn’t know it’s here.”
It was deserted at the moment, the only sound the soft sloughing of wind drifting through the gravestones in the tiny churchyard to one side of the building. No one appeared as Benedict brought the carriage to a stop in the drive, but there was a small house of the same pale stone just behind the church that was presumably thevicar’s house.
Georgiana took in the small building, shading her eyes from the late afternoon sun reflecting off the windows. “Yes. It’s the ideal place for a clandestine marriage.”
So ideal, in fact, there was some chance the duke might have believed his secret marriage to Clara Beauchamp would never be discovered, and so hadn’t bothered to cover his tracks.
She had a feeling about this place…
