Chapter Fourteen
When Teddy had appeared in the doorway of the receiving room moments ago, she’d never have anticipated that a happenstance mention of the most notorious gambling den proprietress in all of London would herald more of Teddy’s recovery.
His memories were coming back in droves.
Joy welled up inside her. Those fools spreading that ridiculous gossip about him would all see.
Nothing could keep her beautiful Teddy down.
She sent him her brightest smile, even as, deep inside, a sprinkling of sadness tinged her happiness.
Because the moment he remembered all, he would be gone. No more afternoon chats in her sunny receiving room. No more sitting beside Teddy before the hearth while he demanded she share her worries with him.
No matter. She wanted what was best for him, always.
“But that’s wonderful, Teddy. You’re getting better. You see? You just needed a quiet place, and to receive your regular dose of medicine.”
His triumphant smile faded the moment she broached the subject of his medicine, replaced by a look of sullen reproach.
“As you say,” he clipped out. “Let us return to the subject at hand.”
“Very well,” she said in her most agreeable tone, not wishing to annoy him further.
He sent her a stern look. “Listen carefully, Georgina. I know you pride yourself on your forward thinking, but such progressive attitudes do not extend to most of the ton. Unless you wish to make of yourself a social outcast, you cannot be seen to frequent such establishments as the Lyon’s Den.”
She sent him another brilliant smile. “Oh, is that what concerns you, that I might have been recognized? I took measure to assure that would not happen.”
His eyes narrowed. “Measures. What sort of measures?”
It occurred to her he might not approve of those, either. “I…er…wore a disguise. Have you had lunch? I could ring for tea.”
He tapped a finger on his chin and regarded her very steadily.
“Define disguise.”
She bit her lower lip. “I went out at dusk wearing…” she paused, then blurted, “an old suit of Drake’s. I assure you no one recognized me.” Aside from Mrs. Dove-Lyon. She opted not to mention the woman’s uncanny discernment.
Teddy blinked, seemingly having difficulty digesting her words. Then he issued an expletive. “Dear God. I can see I made a terrible error in judgment leaving you to your own devices for far too long. You are running wild.”
“I’d hardly call it that,” she muttered.
“Of that, I have no doubt,” he said stiffly. “Listen to me, Georgina. So long as you are my wife, I forbid you to consort with the likes of Mrs. Dove-Lyon in future—disguised or otherwise. Do I make myself clear?”
She sniffed. “Perfectly.”
“I take full responsibility for the predicament in which you found yourself. If not for my lengthy absence, you would not have begun the practice of funding your father’s ill-begotten habit, and thus would not have had need of advice as to how to resolve matters.”
“It’s not your fault, and you mustn’t blame yourself,” she argued, thoroughly vexed at hearing his harsh self-indictment. In truth, she had not visited the Black Widow in search of advice regarding her father, but out of desperation for news of him—not that she could tell him.
“It is,” he said gently, reaching to smooth his thumb over the space between her brows.
“If such a meeting is required in future, as your husband, I shall see to it. Not that I foresee such an event as you seem to have managed everything in my stead. Perhaps, though, now that I am home, and so long as you are my wife, you might allow me the privilege of taking care of you, Lady Arlington?”
At once, her eyes burned and she felt herself ridiculously on the verge of tears. Spoken just like a husband with the best interests of his wife in mind. When was the last time anyone had looked out for her?
She turned her face away from him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
A low curse sounded. In the next instant, the sofa creaked as he moved to her side. His large, warm hand covered both of hers, currently gripped very tightly in her lap.
“I know you did not feel you had a choice. Drake was gone, and I…we were estranged thanks to…” He broke off.
From beneath her lashes, she glanced up at him.
He’d dropped his head in his free hand as if it truly was his fault she’d been forced to visit a gambling den on her own.
Good Lord. What a tangled web she’d woven. She certainly didn’t mean to add anything else on his plate for him to worry over.
Her gaze fell on the book that he’d dropped sliding toward her. The sketch book she’d given him several days ago.
“Teddy, what’s that you’ve brought? Have you something to show me?” So, she hadn’t gotten that wrong. He did have an artistic bent.
He straightened, scrubbed a hand over his hard jaw, and released her to pick up the sketch pad. After placing the book on his lap, he slanted her a long, considering look.
He was so close now, she could practically count his thick, curling black lashes. She could see tiny swirls of chocolate in his liquid eyes.
“I’m no artist. I just…it feels natural. I don’t know.”
Moving slowly, she reached for the book, sensing his reticence to share, and unwilling to risk him leaving without giving her a glimpse at his drawings. “May I?”
He shrugged as she flipped to the first page.
She gasped, then grinned in delight. “But this is wonderful. It’s Drake.
” She hovered her fingertips over the rendition, not wanting to touch and accidentally smudge the sketch.
“It’s Drake,” she said again, more softly, “with the silly white hair powder he always complained over having to wear. He said it made no sense whatsoever. Was this Spain?”
She looked up and searched his face.
His eyes were still on the drawing. “Yes, the Spanish front.”
“You remember him?”
He shook his head. “Bits. Images. Nothing…I can’t hear his voice. Except the once.”
When he recalled Drake’s words that had sent him running from the room and caused him to avoid her ever since.
She didn’t want to talk about that. Didn’t want the conversation to go sour again and have him flee from her.
“It will come. In any case, this is a perfect likeness. Do you have any others?”
“Actually, I have drawn someone I wanted to ask…”
While he spoke, she turned the page, then stiffened as a horrible wave of jealousy slammed through her. He must’ve noticed because he broke off.
“Is that Lady Catherine?” he asked gently.
“Yes.”
Whatever he heard in her voice had him reaching for the sketch pad, which he took, closed, and tucked under one arm.
He was going to leave—because of how she’d reacted.
“Well. That’s it, then. That’s what I wanted to know. I’ll leave you to your—”
“Teddy, wait.”
He went very still. Only his gaze slid in her direction. “Yes?”
She licked her lips and saw his eyes track the movement, then an unmistakable flash of heat. An answering flame ignited within her.
She should let him go. He was remembering. He didn’t really need her around to do that, evidently, and it would be better for him if she left well enough alone.
Then again, he was remembering. Soon he would be gone.
Words spilled from her mouth as if someone else was speaking. “I thought, perhaps, it might help if I…” She bit her lip and cursed her own selfish nature. “Told you another story—about us.”
He should leave. Though he hadn’t the specifics, he had all the confirmation he needed as to his guilt. He’d done something bad, likely involving this Lady Catherine. Possibly involving Georgina’s brother, Drake.
But he’d made the fatal mistake of touching her. Her hands. Her skin was so very soft. Her fingertips, he knew, were smooth as silk. What he wanted more than anything was to feel those gentle fingers tracing his cheeks, those gorgeously plump lips under his.
So instead of leaving as he ought, he set the book aside, draped his arm over the back of the sofa, and angled his body toward hers. “All right.”
Her silvery eyes widened, her lips parted, and she nodded. So very eager to please him. To keep him near.
“Umm. Okay. Let me think.”
A slow smile he could not contain curved his lips.
Her gaze dipped to his mouth and held there, unblinking. Good God. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. But he hadn’t needed the reminder. He already knew that. If he were any sort of gentleman, if he had any care for her, he would remind her of the annulment she sought.
Evidently he wasn’t, or perhaps, the draw of having her eyes on him appealed more than maintaining his honor.
Arousal burned through him. It was all he could do not to drag her hand to his face to feel those cool, searching fingers over his heated skin.
By the time she looked away, he was desperate for her touch.
“Oh, I know,” she said, clapping her hands together and holding her fingertips to her chin. “It was before you’d declared your intentions.”
“This can’t be too terribly exciting then, can it?”
She slanted him a suppressive look. “We’d had a tiff, and I was still a little put out with you.”
“Me? Darling, I’m sure there was a perfectly good explanation for whatever I’d done.”
She grinned at him and her dimples flashed. “You and Drake planned an outing for the four of us at our favorite spot at Hampstead Heath. You planned everything. The day, the time, you even had my favorite picnic foods prepared—”
“Which are? No, wait. Let me guess.”
She sent him a shy, and utterly charmed, smile. “Very well.”
“Butter,” he announced, then added, “and bread.”
She laughed in delight. “Isn’t that the wrong order? Shouldn’t it be bread and butter?”
“Not in your case. Butter first, always.” He did not know from where the idea had sprung, it had just sort of spewed from his mouth. But now he waited on tenterhooks to see if his off-hand guess proved correct.