Chapter 4
“Wherein mischief is made.”
Georgiana looked down at her measly haul and huffed with annoyance.
What on earth was Aunt Jane thinking, making Dandelion and Burdock so late in the year?
The leaves were bound to be bitter and so late in the season the dandelions were hard to see, covered as they were by so many other taller grasses and flowers.
Grumbling to herself she picked up her basket and called Conrad to heel.
The big black mongrel came running back to her, tail wagging merrily and with every manner of burrs and seeds stuck to his coat.
“Oh really! Look at the state of you.” Georgiana tutted with disapproval. “Aunt will give us both a scold if you go home looking like that, you wretch.” She looked up at the sky and frowned. “But we’ll both be wet through too if we don’t hurry; I don’t like the look of that sky.”
Looking around her Georgiana made a quick decision. It would take hours searching out enough dandelions here, but if she were to head over to the Gower estate’s four-acre field where she usually gathered, she could be done within an hour at most, and no one any the wiser.
“Come on, Conrad,” she called, stepping out. It would take her at least an hour to walk over there but better that than breaking her back in the meadow at Longbarrow.
Her instincts proved to be right on reaching the Gower estate and her basket was almost full when the heavens opened.
“Oh blast!” she cursed, squealing as a freezing drop of rain made its way down the back of her neck and made her shiver.
Picking up her basket in one hand and her skirts in the other she ran down the hill to the smuggler’s cave.
It was no longer used by smugglers of course, or at least rarely, as it was too well known by all to be a safe hiding place.
But it was a good place to sit out the rain storm. She sat on a ledge just inside the shelter of the cave and looked out as a storm boiled overhead. Heavy, bruised-looking, indigo clouds tumbled together, blocking out the daylight and casting an eerie and melancholy light over the countryside.
“Oh dear, now we’re in for it,” she muttered, pulling Conrad’s silky ears distractedly as the first fork of lightning crazed the skies and ended with a sharp crack before thunder rumbled through the landscape.
Conrad whined and fidgeted beside her and she hushed him, thankful for his companionship.
She was in no way a fanciful creature, despite her love of lurid Gothic novels and unsuitable romances, but the storm was unsettling, and she would be glad to be safe back at home beside a warm fire.
The wind turned and rain lashed into the opening of the cave, driving her farther back into the darkness where she lingered with unease whilst the storm raged.
She was just beginning to think the worst of it had passed when there was a commotion at the mouth of the cave and she stifled a scream of alarm as the shriek of a horse could be heard and she saw the great creature rear up, the black shape highlighted against a luminous white strike of lightning.
A moment later and she saw a man leap down, pulling the terrified animal into the shelter of the cave and murmuring soothing words to it.
With her heart beating in alarm she took stock of the man, not a local man that was for certain, for she would have been well aware of having seen those broad shoulders and powerful legs before, had she but glanced at them in passing.
The man stripped off his soaking wet jacket and waistcoat and laid them down over a rock to dry.
Very much alive to the impropriety of her situation, alone with a man in the middle of the countryside in a thunderstorm, Georgiana kept well back in the dark and prayed she wouldn’t be noticed. But she had of course forgotten her recalcitrant hound.
At first, slightly cowed by the spectacle of man and beast fighting each other and the elements, Conrad had hidden, quaking, behind his mistress's skirts.
Now that everything had calmed down, however, he was feeling rather braver.
Stepping boldly forward, he offered a sharp yip of disapproval to the newcomer before Georgiana had the wit or the time to stop him.
The man swung around, and she was obliged with a view of thick brown hair, rather fierce dark eyes under thick eyebrows and a strong, square jaw.
“Who’s there?” he demanded.
Quite unable to do anything else, Georgiana stepped forward, out of the darkness into the purplish shadows cast by the storm that was finally showing signs of abating, much to her relief.
“Good God,” the man breathed, as she emerged from the gloom of the cave.
It seemed to take him a moment to remember his manners, or at least, Georgiana assumed the next time he opened his mouth he would introduce himself and put her mind at rest he meant her no harm.
He did not. “Are you a witch?” he demanded, amusement glittering in his eyes as he looked her over, an openly appraising look that made her blood boil.
“Indeed, I am not, Sir,” she replied, with as much froideur as she could muster. “For if I were, I would conjure myself at home by the fire, instead of sheltering from a storm in a damp cave.”
The man gave a bark of laughter, apparently delighted. “Well, I’ll be damned. If you aren’t just the thing to brighten a tedious afternoon.”
She looked back at him in appalled silence while he continued to look her up and down in approval.
Georgiana gave him a disgusted sniff and glared back at him. “I’m sure I find myself relieved to have afforded you some entertainment,” she replied with cool dignity. “For you amuse me, not at all.”
“Mercy!” he replied, laughing, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Come, little witch, I think we have set off on the wrong foot. Will you not come and introduce yourself to me?”
“As you seem to have a lack of manners that is beyond anything I have had the misfortune to encounter until now, no. I shall not.”
“Ah,” he replied, the glittering amusement in his eyes darkening as he took a step forward. “Then perhaps I should introduce myself?” he said, his voice soft now.
“Please, do not trouble yourself,” she snapped in response. “If you will only stand aside, I will bid you good day. It appears the storm is over, and I can continue on my way.”
“Alone?” he asked, quirking one eyebrow.
“Yes, alone!” she replied, any last vestige of patience long since vanished as this odious creature seemed determined to torment her. “I was born and raised here, and everyone knows me. It is no great scandal for me to walk alone.”
“On your own lands perhaps?” he acknowledged with no little scepticism. “But this isn’t your land.”
“Nor yours!” she retorted, trying to push past him and gasping in shock as he caught her by the arms. “Let me go!” she shouted, trying and failing to pull out of his grasp.
“Easy, love,” he said, grinning at her. “If you want to pass, you’ll have to pay the toll.”
She didn’t have a moment to utter the bewildered question that came to mind as he answered it for her very neatly by pulling her into his arms and kissing her.
By now far more angry than frightened, she struggled to pull away but found his grip on her more than she could counter. He released her mouth and looked down at her, his eyes darker still and somewhat devilish in the dim light of the cave.
Belatedly, aware that perhaps his mistress was not enjoying the stranger’s attentions, Conrad began to bark, leaping forward and back between the entrance of the cave and the stranger.
“Oh, thank you, Conrad!” Georgiana exclaimed in exasperation. “Just a little too late, you idiotic creature.”
“Perhaps not,” the man whispered, his breath hot and damp against her neck. He looked up, those devilish eyes sparkling with mischief. “Perhaps I have further nefarious plans for you?” he suggested, waggling his eyebrows in imitation of a theatrical villain.
“I will thank you to take your hands off me this instant!” Georgiana demanded, wriggling once more in the brute’s ridiculously strong arms. The man looked down at Conrad, whose barking was becoming ever more alarmed as the stranger did not do as he was bid and release his mistress.
“Be silent!”
Conrad jerked in surprise, clearly recognising the voice of authority and lying down with meek obedience at the sound of a man’s voice.
“Oh! You faithless creature!” wailed Georgiana. “Of all the idiotic, disloyal ...”
“Hush yourself, little witch,” the brute said, though his voice was soft as he returned his attention to her. “Now then, tell me your name and where you come from and I swear I’ll let you go. I’m not going to hurt you, you have my word.”
“Oh yes,” she replied with asperity. “The word of a gentleman,” she infused that last part with all the scorn she was currently feeling, adding with venom, “How terribly reassuring.”
“Oh, ho, little cat,” he laughed. “Now, now, show me your claws and I may change my mind and keep you here.”
“Of all the odious, vile, detestable ...”
“Loathsome?” he added helpfully.
“Yes, loathsome!” she repeated, stamping her foot. “And abhorrent, repulsive ...”
“Oh no!” he interrupted her stream of adjectives. “Repulsive I won’t have.” he shook his head, his eyes holding a faintly mocking gleam. “I have it on very good authority I am not in the least bit repulsive.”
“Whose authority?” she demanded. “Not mine I collect. Oh, and now we can add disgustingly arrogant and prideful!”
“Tell me your name, witch!”
“Oh!” In utter fury she bit back a very unladylike curse and replied. “My name is Georgiana Bomford and I wish you joy of it for you will never have cause to speak it again. Now. Let. Me. Go!”
“Oh, but I have yet to introduce myself to you,” the stranger replied, all mocking politeness.
“Then get on with it so I can make haste to forget it,” she muttered furiously.
The man seemed to hesitate for just a second, his dark eyes full of something she could not decipher. “Charles Stafford, the Marquess of Beaumont, at your service, madame.”
Georgiana froze and blinked up at him, disbelieving.
She had long wanted to see for herself the dangerously beautiful Beau Beaumont, and while this man was very handsome indeed, and certainly a danger to her - or any other woman who had the misfortune to cross his path - he wasn’t what she expected. She frowned at him.
“You’re Beau Beaumont?”
She thought he looked faintly annoyed by the question which pleased her.
“I am,” he replied, sounding a little defiant. “What of it?”
She pursed her lips and shrugged before replying, “Nothing.”
“What?” he demanded. “What do you mean nothing?” She was intrigued to find he looked rather ruffled, which tickled her enormously and decided her to fluff his upset feathers a little further - for his own good; for the devil was clearly in dire need of a set down.
“Well, my lord,” she murmured. “I suppose I’m a little ... disappointed.”
“Oh?”
There was a dangerous note to that single utterance that didn’t escape her, but she was too angry to deviate now.
With another eloquent shrug she simply added. “Yes. Well, I have read much about the dangerous Beau Beaumont, that he is devastatingly handsome and charming and that women melt into puddles at his feet and ...” She paused and looked up at him from under her thick lashes for effect.
“And?” The dangerous tone had grown and intensified, and she experienced a moment’s qualm before plunging the knife home.
“Well, it is just a grave disappointment to find your technique relies more on the brute force of a caveman than the clever and sophisticated flirt I had supposed you to be.”
For a moment she watched the emotions chase across his face.
She was certain that no woman had ever spoken to him so in his life before.
Though she was only too glad to fill the gap in his education, she did admit to holding her breath as she awaited his response.
It wasn’t what she’d expected, as he tipped his head back and gave a hearty bark of laughter.
“Why you little wretch!” he exclaimed, grinning at her. “Well, well, Georgiana Bomford. I’m more delighted to have met you than you know.”
To her astonishment he released her and stepped away, pausing for a moment to bestow a stroke to the traitorous Conrad, who wagged his tail happily in response.
To further her astonishment, he looked back at her, smiling broadly and looking for all the world like a naughty schoolboy rather than the villain who had just manhandled her so outrageously. “I’ll be here again tomorrow afternoon, Miss Bomford, do say you’ll come and meet me?”
Her mouth fell unwillingly open in a manner which would have had her aunt scolding her soundly and for a moment she felt quite incapable of giving an answer. It didn’t last.
“Are you quite mad or simply foxed?” she demanded, for drink or an unsound mind could be the only explanation for believing she would willingly meet him again.
“Neither,” he replied, sounding far too cheerful. “I’m stone cold sober and not at all unhinged I promise.”
“Spoken like a true madman,” she replied with a sniff, as she made to turn her back on him, adjusting her bonnet as she went.
“Wait!” he cried, grasping hold of her hand and disarranging the ribbons of her bonnet all over again.
“Oh! Will you stop manhandling me,” she exclaimed.
“I beg your pardon,” he replied, the dark eyes suddenly full of warmth though he didn’t look the least bit remorseful. “But please, I meant what I said. I’m so pleased to have met you. Won’t you come and talk to me again. I promise you, I will behave like a gentleman if you do.”
“Certainly not!” she replied with some heat, though she was aware of a growing desire to do as he asked in response to the soft look in those dark eyes. Happily, it was a desire she thoroughly mistrusted and would certainly not be foolish enough to act on.
“Oh, but you are cruel, little witch.”
“Stuff!” she replied succinctly, taking up her basket and heading out of the cave.
“I’ll find you again, Georgiana,” he called, laughter in his voice as she strode away from him. “Just see if I don’t!”