Chapter 6
“Wherein our heroine steps upon a perilous path.”
To Georgiana’s dismay, she awoke the next morning with a sore throat so severe that she couldn’t speak and was ordered immediately back to bed by her aunt, despite her protests she was really quite well.
In point of fact she wasn’t well at all, but the idea that Beau might believe she had stood him up without so much as a message of apology made her feel even more wretched.
The next moment had her scolding herself.
Whatever was she thinking! Even to be considering the idea of going and meeting the most notorious rake in England, alone.
It was beyond anything. Her chances of finding a suitable husband were dim enough in such rural parts but at least she would come out this year.
There were the assemblies at Truro to look forward to and perhaps that wasn’t as glamorous and exciting as a come out in London but plain old Miss Georgiana Bomford wasn’t due such distinction and well she knew it.
It was perfectly clear to her that Lord Beaumont was just enjoying a flirtation to while away a pleasant day or two.
She wasn’t such a ninnyhammer to believe there was anything more to it than that.
Neither was she foolish enough to believe that any time spent in his company wasn’t dangerous to her .
.. in more ways than she could count. In fact, the idea of being discovered was the least of her concerns.
She knew the area like the back of her hand.
She knew where she could spend the day and never see a soul and she thought, if she put her mind to it, it would not prove difficult to meet him without arousing suspicion or being found out.
What was less likely seemed to be the idea she could spend more time in the man’s presence without becoming ... interested in him.
Although he was not at all what she had expected, he was undoubtedly interesting.
He was well read and engaging, charming in fact.
He made her laugh, often at his own expense but also liked to tease her.
His mind was quick and lively, and he enjoyed her sense of the ridiculous .
.. which she had discovered was a rare thing indeed.
And all that was without ever even considering those deep brown eyes and that astonishing smile that seemed to entirely change his rather severe countenance into something far more approachable and appealing.
He was also, she reminded herself as she recalled their first encounter in the caves, ill-mannered, rude, provoking and perfectly outrageous. To her chagrin those particular deficiencies only made her smile.
It was another three days before Aunt Jane agreed to let her out of the house.
It was a fine autumn day, an astonishingly rare event after the past months of cold and rain.
Georgiana had never known a summer like it, nor apparently had anyone else and there was much talk of trouble in the towns as crops failed and those less fortunate scratched about, struggling for survival.
But for today at least it was mild, with a teasing wind that skittered the leaves that had begun to fall around her feet and tugged at the ribbons of her bonnet.
Conrad bounded ahead, turning every so often to bark at her, admonishing her to make haste.
Indeed, she needed no such urging, though she told herself over and again it was the height of folly.
In the first instance, the very idea that Beau should be waiting for her still was ridiculous.
A man like that did not return day after day for some silly country girl with neither title nor fortune.
Although she was aware of her own worth, she wasn’t one to view the world in any way other than that of reality.
She knew in this tiny corner of England she was considered a beauty, but she never doubted for a moment that if put against all the lovely young women at Almack’s or some other elegant London affair, her own charms would be eclipsed.
Georgiana had no doubt in her mind she would end up marrying some local squire who she met at the assembly rooms. She expected the courtship and subsequent marriage would be dull and comfortable and that was as much as she could hope for.
She came from a good family, very respectable except .
.. she was aware that there was some shadow over her parents' death.
Her aunt and uncle never spoke of it and had always become so agitated if she broached the subject, she had never tried.
She knew how much she was in their debt for taking on a child that wasn’t theirs and would do anything to save them from distress.
It would no doubt affect her chances of marrying well and put that with the modest sum she imagined her uncle might be so generous as to provide for her .
.. well, it was hardly likely to turn the head of the Marquess of Beaumont.
So, what on earth she was doing retracing her steps to the secluded spot he had discovered her in four days earlier was beyond her.
Her only comfort was the fact that he wouldn’t be there, and she would have enjoyed a pleasant walk and have been brought back down to earth.
For no good would come of yielding to the temptation of dreaming about the enticing Beau Beaumont.
It was, therefore, with a start of surprise she noticed a handsome chestnut horse grazing at the edge of the meadow, just as it had been the day she’d bid the marquess goodbye.
As she took a hesitant step closer, she noticed a figure on the rock.
He had cast his jacket aside and was sitting with one leg outstretched and his arms resting on his bent knee.
Her heart seemed to do a little leap in her chest at the sight of him, though whether that was because of the sheer folly she was indulging in or for any other reason she had no idea.
Taking another step closer she saw the wind ruffling the thick waves of his dark hair and as if drawn by some invisible force he turned his head and stared directly at her.
She was quite certain her heart stopped for just a moment.
For in that brief second, she was not quite sure of her reception.
There seemed to be a flicker of hurt, or perhaps that was anger in those dark eyes.
But when he spoke there was a mocking amusement in his voice, and perhaps a little reproach.
“In secret we met, in silence I grieve, that thy heart could forget, thy spirit deceive,” he said softly.
“Well really!” she replied, recognising the scandalous poem about a deceitful lover only too well. “If you feel that way I shall turn around and leave again.” She went to do just that, but he sprang to his feet and jumped down from the rock, running after her and grasping hold of her hand.
“No! Forgive me ...” he laughed, looking a little wild as the wind tugged at his hair. “Only you are very cruel to me, love, leaving me waiting for so long.”
She swallowed, her heart thudding while a little voice in her head was screaming at her to turn around and leave ... now!
“I didn’t mean to,” she murmured, too stunned by the dreadfully inappropriate endearment he’d uttered to form a sterner reply. Her eyes drifted down to her hand where he held it clasped in his. “I--I was unwell.”
“Oh!” he replied, clearly not having considered this as a possibility. “Oh, Miss Bomford please do forgive me.” He laughed at the expression on her face. “I know what a shabby fellow I am. How many times have I begged forgiveness already in our short acquaintance?”
“Too many for propriety I think, my lord,” she replied, moving her hand as though she would take it from his grasp. His fingers tightened though, refusing to release her.
“Are you quite well now?” he asked, and she didn’t dare look up and meet his eyes while that soft voice enquired after her with such tenderness.
“Quite well,” she repeated, feeling flustered.
She should leave, now. This was the worst idea in the world.
Oh, her poor aunt would die of shame if she could see her now, dallying with Beau Beaumont of all people!
“But I must go now. I only came to say I was sorry ... I--I never dreamed you would actually be here ...”
“Then why did you come?” he asked again in that same caressing voice.
She couldn’t answer, too aware that she was in danger and that she needed to go, but too driven to stay just another moment in his company to force herself to move.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have ...”
“Did you want to see me?” he asked, and the seductive tone lingering over the enquiry was only too apparent, and though she didn’t reply her cheeks flushed, betraying her as eloquently as if she’d admitted aloud how very much she’d wanted to.
She felt his fingers beneath her chin, and he tilted her head up so she was forced to look at him.
“I wanted to see you. Very, very much. I came every day,” he said, and she noticed for the first time that there were little flecks of amber and gold in the dark brown of his eyes.
“I waited from morning until dusk each day, and I would have come again tomorrow and the day after ...”
“Oh stop!” she cried, tugging her hand free and walking away from him. “This ... this is beyond foolish, it’s ... it’s ...”
“Madness?” he demanded, his voice rough.
“Yes, perhaps,” he said, shadowing her movements, not allowing her to move more than a foot or so away from him.
“I have been considering all the ways in which I could discover more about you. Where you live, where I might find you ... some of my ideas were quite mad, I’m sure. ”
“Please, my lord,” she said, imploring him to be a gentleman and do the right thing because she was fast becoming aware that she would not be able to. “You must go. We both know there is no future for you here. I am far beneath your notice and ...”