Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Julian sat amongst the dunes a mile or so from the beach where he had seen Georgiana talking to young Meggie, the daughter of Robert Eames, Julian’s estate manager.
He had seen the two females talking together before today, and Eames had mentioned that his daughter talked of the kind and beautiful dark-haired lady she sometimes met on the beach.
Julian had no wish to argue regarding Meggie’s opinion of Georgiana, already knowing of her kindness and beauty.
He was also inwardly pleased by the friendship, knowing Meggie didn’t make friends easily. It came as no surprise that Georgiana had chosen to befriend the young girl rather than shun her because she was different. Annabel had not been so kind in her opinion of Meggie.
All the servants at Moreland Park seemed to like Georgiana. Julian had heard several of them comment that she was kind as well as beautiful, that she was always polite and smiling, and that she always showed an interest in them by asking about their health and families.
Georgiana was a true lady. Everything that Annabel should have been but had sadly never aspired to be once the two of them were married.
Julian already knew how lovely Georgiana was. He certainly didn’t need others to constantly remind him of how much more suited she would have been to being his duchess than Annabel had ever been.
Truth was, Julian ached to spend time with Georgiana himself.
To bask in that same warmth and kindness.
Instead, he completely avoided her by absenting himself from the house as much as possible.
Oftentimes by escaping for these daily, sometimes twice-daily, gallops across the sand. Come rain or shine.
More often than not, Julian dismounted, as he had today, and then wandered amongst the dunes for an hour or so in an effort to spend even more time away from the house.
Shadow, living up to his name, roamed free a short distance away from where Julian now sat, completely unperturbed by Julian sitting or pacing on the beach for some time every day for the past week.
Julian was living in a hell of his own making. A hell that would surely stop the moment he sent Georgiana Stapleton back to London, where she belonged.
Except, so far, he hadn’t found the strength to bring himself to do that.
Instead, he lived for the occasional glimpses he caught of Georgiana as she went about fulfilling the list of daily tasks he left for her on the desk in his study each morning. Always long before she came downstairs for her breakfast.
Or as she strolled along the sand in the afternoons, the ever-present sea breeze buffeting her gown against her legs and generous curves.
By the third day, she had stopped wearing a bonnet on those forays after the wind constantly blew it from covering her dark curls, resulting in it only being held by the ribbon about the slenderness of her throat.
Those visions of her loveliness stayed with Julian long after he had retired to his bedchamber each evening.
That same image prevented him from sleeping.
Because, Julian could admit to himself, Georgiana’s beauty now haunted him day and night.
In his frustration, he had written a blistering letter to St. Albans telling him exactly what he thought of his friend for having put him in this untenable position.
It had only been a matter of days since Julian sent that letter, and as yet, he hadn’t received a reply. But he had the greatest suspicion that, upon receiving Julian’s missive, the other man would greatly enjoy rather than lament his predicament.
St. Albans was one of the people who had advised Julian that, once the necessary seven years had passed since Annabel’s disappearance, he should immediately report that abandonment to the authorities and have the marriage dissolved.
St. Albans had assured him he would bear witness to the desertion by Julian’s wife.
Seven bloody years.
Another five years hence.
By which time, Julian would be one and forty years old.
Ancient.
His life more than half over.
Even if he met a woman and fell in love with her, it was ludicrous to think he could ask her to wait another five years for him to be free of his previous marriage.
Bloody Annabel.
Even missing and presumed dead, she continued to make Julian’s life a living hell.
Except Georgiana, after admitting her attraction toward him, had then assured him she was not interested in marriage or in having a husband.
A statement that added to Julian’s torment as those words constantly played in a loop inside his head, adding to this constant restlessness in which he now lived.
Because of Georgiana.
He hadn’t so much as looked at any woman in a sexual way these past two years. After his failed marriage, the whole process of charming and flirting with a woman, of possibly seducing her, had made him feel ill.
Until Georgiana.
Everything about her, from her glossy dark curls, the merriment in her eyes, her smiling lips, and the way that she—
“So this is where you have been hiding yourself.”
—was developing a habit of appearing out of the ether!
Julian had startled at the sound of Georgiana’s voice, and he now rose quickly to his feet to turn and gape up at the woman he held solely responsible for his agitated state of mind. Georgiana was sitting side saddle on the chestnut mare named Rosebud that had once belonged to Julian’s mother.
Rosebud had been born to a mare on the estate. She was a beautiful animal, with the mildest of temperaments, and Julian hadn’t had the heart to sell her after his mother died four years ago. Despite Annabel having urged him to do so.
The new duchess did not ride, nor had she understood other people’s enjoyment in doing so. She claimed that horses terrified her. Even one as placid as Rosebud.
Confirming to Julian that a woman who could feel no empathy or affection for Meggie, and also hated horses, was one without a heart.
He already knew that Georgiana and Meggie were friends. It now pleased him immensely to see how perfect Georgiana appeared seated upon the back of the chestnut horse.
She looked positively regal in how beautiful she was in a blue velvet riding habit, the same shade of blue as her eyes, with a matching bonnet of the same material perched upon the dark curls secured at her crown. Her riding gloves and boots were made of dark blue leather.
She arched one dark brow. “Well?”
Julian blinked at the same time as he tried to think what she was asking… Ah. “I am not hiding,” he answered coolly. “Merely enjoying my daily constitutional. I saw you earlier on the beach, collecting shells with Meggie.”
Georgiana smiled. “We have met several times this past week. She is a delightful young woman…child.” She gave a confused frown, obviously not knowing quite how to describe the childlike Meggie.
“She is the daughter of my estate manager and his wife,” he explained. “She was like any other five-year-old until she was kicked in the head by a horse and was rendered unconscious for almost a day before waking. Mentally, she has not aged a day since that time,” he added.
“Whatever her age, she is a very happy young lady, always smiling and pleased to see me,” Georgiana assured.
“Which is more than could be said for her aversion toward my wif— Damn it.” He scowled. “Change the subject. Please.” He groaned. “And quickly.”
“Very well,” she humored smoothly. “Are you not a little old to be sitting on the sand drawing pictures?”
Julian glanced down to where he had, indeed, been idly drawing in the sand with a stray piece of driftwood that the tide had washed ashore from somewhere farther down the coast. There were no trees at all near this stretch of beach.
He looked up at Georgiana. “I was not drawing pictures but making a list of the things I still have to do this week.”
She smiled. “I have left several social invitations on your desk for you to consider. One of them is for dinner and cards at the vicarage tomorrow evening.”
Julian barely repressed a shudder. Not because he held any dislike for the Reverand Archie Cox. The man was far too kind and affable for anyone to dislike him. His wife, however, was another matter entirely.
Hester Cox enjoyed nothing more than gossiping to and about her neighbors with anyone who was not quick enough to escape her company.
From the number of invitations Julian had received and refused from the Coxes these past two years, he believed his reclusive behavior had become something of a challenge that Mrs. Cox intended to overcome by sheer determination, if nothing else.
Julian had no doubt that this latest invitation was due to the fact that there would have been gossip in the village in regard to the female secretary now residing at Moreland Park. Hester Cox would be desperate to glean more information from him on the subject.
“From your expression, I gather it is another invitation you will be refusing?” Georgiana drawled with a knowing smile.
“Most certainly,” he stated firmly.
“Why, when your neighbors obviously still wish to see and entertain you?”
“Gossiping jackals, the lot of them.”
“I do not believe that to be true. The vicar’s wife, perhaps, but the squire’s wife seems very warm and kind. As do the doctor and his wife.”
“And the first subject of conversation of any of them will be how sorry they are for the disappearance of my wife.”
“Perhaps that is because they are sorry…?”
Julian snorted. “Annabel did not endear herself to people.”
“Why not?”
“I have no idea— I apologize.” He took his voice down from a shout to a mutter. “I am afraid that the subject of my wife is not a happy one.”
“I can see that,” Georgiana sympathized. “Help me down, would you?” She held out a gloved hand for him to take so he could assist her in dismounting.
Julian froze, no part of him moving except for the loud beating of his heart. Instead, he could only stare at that delicate hand as if it were a cobra about to strike.
“Julian…?”
He came out of his stupor to see Georgiana eyeing him curiously. “I apologize. I was… Never mind.” He shook his head as he roused himself enough to clasp her hand so that she could use his strength to assist her in sliding from Rosebud’s back.
A move, he realized too late, that would result in Georgiana standing far too close to him once she was on her feet, her hand still held firmly in his own. Her face was tilted upward, and those deep-blue eyes were looking straight into his.
Tempting.
Inviting.
Challenging.
* * *
Georgiana held her breath as she waited to see what Julian would do next. Whether he would step away and put distance between them, or if he would take her in his arms and kiss her as Georgiana had so longed for him to do during this past long week.
She knew the exact moment that he made that decision, from the way Julian’s eyes darkened and he released her hand before taking her in his arms. He hesitated only a brief second more before lowering his head and claiming her lips with his own.
Every thought, along with any awareness of what time it was or where they were, fled Georgiana’s mind as she responded and then returned the fierce passion of that kiss.
She was barely aware of being lowered to the sand amongst the dunes, Julian above her, as they continued to kiss and touch each other.
She gasped as she became aware of the physical evidence of Julian’s arousal as he pushed up her riding habit and settled between her parted thighs. She instantly felt the heaviness of his arousal pressing against her mound and stimulating the small nubbin she knew resided there.
She had discovered this organ of arousal completely by accident when she was sixteen and had been washing herself in the bath.
But the arousal and heat generated by having Julian’s cock thrusting against that nubbin was unlike anything she had ever experienced before as it coursed throughout the whole of her body until she felt as if she would burst.
Then she did burst, in a kaleidoscope of colors and never-ending pleasure.
A release that rose higher, becoming more prolonged, when Julian also gave a cry, and she could feel the warmth of his release against her drawers.
Seconds later, he pulled back to look at her with obvious consternation. “Dear God… I have not done such a thing since my youth. I am so sorry. I should not have done that.”
Georgiana stared at him as he stood up, obviously uncomfortable in his clothing.
Her cheeks bloomed with heat at the realization it was their lovemaking that had caused this discomfort.
She shook her head, straightening her clothing as she also rose to her feet, her drawers feeling as uncomfortably damp as his. “You did not force me into returning your passion,” she chided. “Indeed, I believe I might have encouraged it.”
“That does not make it right.”
“It does not make it wrong either.”
“I am a married man—”
“A married man whose wife has been missing for two years and is believed dead.”
“It is still wrong.”
“In whose eyes?”
“Mine!” he rasped. “I will not put you in a position where you can be denigrated and gossiped about by anyone.”
“I believe the method of my father’s death has already succeeded in doing that,” she dismissed wryly.
“All the more reason for me not to involve you in a yet more damaging scandal.”
“Does this mean you will not kiss or touch me again?”
“Yes.”
“Because your wife abandoned the marriage and there is no proof that she is dead?”
“Exactly,” he confirmed bleakly.
Georgiana studied Julian for several long seconds, taking note of the implacability of his expression, before coming to a decision. “Do you promise me once and for all that you had no hand in her disappearance or death?”
Julian glowered at her. “I do.”
“Stop glaring at me, Julian,” Georgiana dismissed. “It is a perfectly valid question to ask, given the circumstances. Now that you have answered it, we can move on.”
“Move on?”
“Yes, in that the two of us will have to either find the evidence that proves she is dead or locate Annabel herself, if she is not.”
“What the hell do you think I have been doing these past two years?”
She nodded. “And your fortitude in continuing to do so for so long is admirable. But you did not previously have my assistance in this matter.” Her expression, she hoped, was one of determination.
“We will continue this search together, Julian, by first reviewing the reports in your possession sent to you from your agents you instructed to search for the duchess. Then by questioning the servants, who often see much more than we would wish them to. And,” she continued firmly when he would have spoken, “because I very much wish for you to kiss me again, more than kiss me, in fact, we must ensure that we prevail.”