Chapter 4 #3
“Quite right.” He dipped his head, patient, controlled, persistent .
His request felt like a dare, an intimate and personal one.
A task a wife completed for her husband, a woman for her lover.
Georgiana lifted her hand, watched it tremble.
Pulled her fingers into a tight fist, released, then sank them into his hair.
Thick, silken, as she’d imagined. Breathing in his scent, she placed the twine between her teeth, using her other hand to gather the strands into a neat bind.
His hand went to the rug, fingers spread as he braced himself.
A raw gasp snaked through his teeth, she heard it, and he made no effort to keep her from hearing it.
His shoulders lifted, his biceps hardening with the effort.
Parts of her body that had lain dormant for years aroused with his choked breath.
He was affected; she was overwhelmed. If Dex turned, pushed her to the floor, and climbed atop her, she’d let him.
Welcome him, despite her fragile heart, despite her fears, despite her suspicion that their chance at love had passed.
This level of desire was a creature she’d never experienced nor soothed.
Soothing desire wasn’t what she was here for.
Swallowing, she rocked back on her heels.
Tucked her finger in her bodice pocket and worked the suitables list free.
It was a hammer blow of a response, nothing subtle about it, panic driving the undertaking.
The lapis stone he’d given her escaped with the list and tumbled to the floor, landing right by the toe of his dirty boot.
Her cheeks lit, her palms going damp. Just bloody perfect .
Slowly, carefully, Dex covered the stone with his hand.
“I drafted a list,” she said, her words tripping one over the other.
“Two women I feel are appropriate. And immediately available. The families are in Derbyshire for the holiday, and both are in dire need of funds, meaning they will happily forego the Season, which is convenient given your promise to provide a name to your father by Twelfth Night. I’m happy to hold an intimate dinner party at my home since your father is ill.
I’m a family friend, a widow of means. Therefore this is entirely proper.
If you have more flexibility with regard to time, I’ll confer with my partner in the Duchess Society upon my return to London and?—”
“ Enough ,” he whispered, a thousand sentiments wrapped in the plea. Anger, when she had no idea why he was angry. Disappointment, frustration.
Georgiana’s temper flared, relieving a little of the yearning pulsing beneath her skin.
How dare he, when she’d done nothing but what he’d asked of her.
“Why do you sound vexed when I’m simply doing what you requested I do?
What I’ve been doing quite successfully for going on two years within every level of society.
We’ll need to go over my suggestions if you’re able to hold a civil discussion about your quest because I don’t understand what you want, what you need in a wife.
I usually conduct a thorough interview with both parties; consequently, these were guesses .
Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I don’t know you anymore. ”
He ran the lapis along his lower lip, then sent her an inscrutable look over his shoulder. “Would you like to, Georgie?” He tossed the stone from hand to hand. “Know me again?”
A stunned sigh left her, and she spoke without thinking, “I’ve given up on that.”
He frowned, sending a neat fold between his brows, the stone falling still in his hand. “Given up on what?”
“Friendship. Belonging. Derbyshire.” She blew out a breath, unable to articulate what she meant, what she wanted, what she dreaded, what she feared .
Funny, when she’d asked him to tell her these things about himself.
“I don’t know. All of this. I’ve been alone for so long I’m used to it.
Coming back here has been like the first sweep of sunlight after winter.
Addictive and startling. And in a way, uncomfortable.
I’m having trouble seeing through the glare. ”
Didn’t he know?
She was made of ice and wasn’t sure she wanted to melt.
Shaking his head, Dex pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, seeming to realize a task he’d assumed would be easy wasn’t going to be easy at all.
“You’ve always had my friendship.” Turning to face her, he unwrapped her clenched fist, dropped the lapis into her palm, and sealed her fingers around it.
“It’s entirely my fault you felt you lost it. And we must start somewhere.”
“Start what?” she whispered, a tendril of unease threading through her voice.
He rose, looking down at her for a charged moment. “I’ll go over your list of suitables, Georgie. Share my vision for the perfect duchess.”
“I never promised per?—”
“But first, we’re going to have an adventure.
The best I could construct in the middle of a snowstorm.
As I mentioned, we’ll start with travel to Germany and Austria,” he said, crossing the room to the map tacked on the wall.
He tapped India with his knuckle. “Maybe, before luncheon, we’ll even dip our toe into Asia.
Then, over whatever delicacies my kitchen staff is inspired to provide for us, I’ll tell you about the fever in Delhi that nearly killed me, the viscount’s daughter in Shanghai who brandished a knife and thought to force my hand, my plans to survey parts of Scotland and Wales for a government initiative, which would keep me closer to home for the next year or two.
My hopes for Munro Geological and how I pray my plans align with my duty to the dukedom.
I’ll tell you why I left Derbyshire, why I felt I had to.
You want to know me, know me. But I get the same in return. Discussions, like we had as children.”
“Dex, when we were children, when we were friends, we talked about everything. ”
He shrugged and tapped the map again, closer to home this time. “Okay.”
She squeezed the lapis, pressing a rough edge into her skin. “You don’t fight fairly,” she said, soundly defeated and utterly euphoric, proving she was, indeed, losing her mind.
He laughed, shaking the neat snatch of hair tied with twine. “When you used to fight dirty. I took more than one fist to the face as I recall. A boot kick to the shins. Where is that courageous hellion, I wonder?”
She’s right here, Georgiana wanted to say, hiding beneath the Ice Countess.
Instead, she slipped the lapis in her pocket, settled Dex’s folio on her knees, dipped the quill, and wrote Buprestidae in neat script on the page. She swept the feathered end over the glowing beetle fossil. “Let’s start with this one, shall we?”
His only reply was a brilliant smile and a teasing wink as he settled in beside her.
And she realized she was in deep trouble.