Chapter 24
“Wherein hot air causes mischief all around.”
“I can’t think how you persuaded me into this,” Beau remarked as they strolled in and out of picnicking families strewn about the grass in Hyde Park as they made their way towards The Ring.
The grand circle of trees enclosed a large space where the fashionable came to see and be seen, to promenade and sometimes ride or show off a new sporting curricle or a tilbury - which was becoming quite the rage, and some flashy high steppers.
Today, however, a crowd had assembled for the spectacle of a balloon ascension. The silky, blue and gold mound of fabric was billowing disconsolately in the warm spring breeze, however, and showed no immediate signs of taking to the skies.
Georgiana looked up at Beau with amusement.
“Persuaded you? You wretch! You practically begged to escort me.”
He shrugged and pursed his lips. “Perhaps,” he admitted. “But it’s rather unkind of you to remember that fact.” He sighed and looked down at his dusty boots with an expression of deep distress. “My valet won’t speak to me for weeks, you know.”
“Mortifying,” she said, tutting and shaking her head sadly as he narrowed his eyes at her.
“You can mock, sweet Eve. But it will be entirely your fault if he sends me out with my cravat askew and last season’s coat on my back, I assure you.” He looked pained at the amusement in her expression. “My reputation may never recover,” he complained with a sad shake of his head.
“How terribly shocking,” she murmured, trying not to chuckle and failing. He grinned at her, pleased as ever to have made her laugh. “Oh, come on then,” she replied, taking pity on him. “Let’s go to the Cake House and get an ice. It’s really very hot and dusty isn’t it.”
Agreeing with obvious pleasure, he escorted her to a charming little white-painted house with a multitude of beams, pretty latticed windows and a gabled roof.
It was an idyllic picture and a surprisingly Arcadian setting in the heart of the capital.
Wild flowers and oleander bushes grew in profusion and a little stream ran directly in front of the entrance door.
A rickety plank forming a rustic bridge had to be traversed to gain entrance to the building.
Beau went first and reached his hand out to help Georgiana across.
Smirking at him Georgiana refused his hand and immediately regretted it as the plank tilted a little to the left and her heel slipped on the dry timber. With a squeal she righted herself and scurried forward to be hauled against Beau before her balance deserted her for a second time.
She gasped and looked up, only too aware of the hard male body pressed flush against hers.
For a moment his hold on her tightened and she could feel the heat of him through the fine sarsnet of her gown.
Looking up she found his blue eyes full of desire and knew without a doubt he was desperate to kiss her.
She wondered what it would be like, to be kissed by him. Could he really make her forget Sebastian?
He released his hold on her before anyone could see, but there was reluctance in his eyes.
“Careful, Eve,” he whispered in her ear. “I have only so much self-control, my sweet temptress.”
She huffed at him and raised an eyebrow.
“Well it isn’t as if I lost my balance on purpose, is it?” she muttered, smoothing out the line of her pale blue walking dress.
He reached out, on the premise of picking an imaginary piece of lint from her darker blue velvet spencer but instead wound the red curl he found so tempting around his finger and gave a little tug.
She looked up, startled by his boldness.
Although he spoke far too freely with her, he never overstepped the bounds of propriety.
In fact, he seemed to be on his best behaviour in that respect, as aware as she of the eyes on them.
There was a fierce look in his eyes now though, as he tugged the little ringlet again and raised it to his lips.
“I won’t be denied, Eve,” he said. “You cannot keep me on a leash forever with that tempting red apple so close to my jaws. I’m not the spoilt little lap dog you’d like me to be, no matter that’s how you treat me.”
“I do not!” she replied, indignation staining her cheeks.
He snorted and she couldn’t read the expression on his face, but she wondered if she’d hurt him somehow. “You think I don’t see how you watch him? Waiting to see how jealous he is when he sees us together?”
“I ...” She stopped before she began her rejection of his accusation, too aware of the truth of it.
Had she really just been using him all this time?
She stared back at him, stricken and unable to form a reply.
For she did care for him, very much, and he would be dreadfully easy to fall in love with .
.. if her heart hadn’t already been taken.
“I’m sorry, Beau, I ...”
He dropped the curl and waved his hand looking annoyed. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me,” he snapped, and she was a little taken aback by the anger in his eyes. “I give you fair warning, my lovely siren, I won’t play nicely any longer. Do you understand?”
She nodded, disquieted by the look in his eyes.
“No,” he murmured. “I don’t think you do.
But you will.” He offered her his arm and they walked into the little shop.
“Come now,” he said, smiling at her again, his fit of temper apparently passed.
“Let’s cool ourselves off with an ice, and then I’ll take you out in one of the boats. How does that sound?”
“Lovely,” she replied, smiling back at him, relieved that he seemed to have got over whatever fit of jealousy had struck at him.
By the time they found their way to the edge of the Serpentine and rejoined Céleste and a group of her friends, the afternoon sun was growing rather warm. The countess waved at them and they wandered over to meet her.
“Do you want anything to eat? There is so much food!” she complained with a grimace. “I am so full it’s disgusting and nobody else has eaten a morsel!”
Georgiana shook her head, too consumed by the sight of the tall, dark figure making his way towards her.
To her everlasting gratitude Céleste took Beau’s arm, insisting that he must help her do justice to the extravagant feast that had been provided.
If Beau realised he was being manipulated, he was too polite to protest. He went as bid, to sit beside Céleste and her lady friends who welcomed him with beaming smiles and fluttering eyelashes.
Georgiana turned her back on the advancing figure and went to stand by the edge of the river where the air was a little cooler.
There were several little jetties where the pleasure boats were tied up and after lunch they would be busy with people buying tickets and going out onto the water.
But for the moment it was quiet as she stepped onto one boarded walkway, and the only sounds were the gentle hum of conversation at her back and the quack of a hopeful duck paddling around in search of a generous benefactress.
“Good afternoon, Miss Bomford.”
She turned without surprise, having had time to prepare herself on this occasion. She met those dark eyes with a placid expression, curtsying to the large presence who had provided some much-needed shade by blocking out the sun.
“Your grace.” She looked at him, silent, refusing to help him navigate the tension between them as he stared at her.
“Georgiana,” he whispered, the longing behind her name quite taking her breath away. “Please don’t keep punishing me, love. I’ll run mad if you won’t talk to me ... give me a chance to explain.”
She stared at him, wondering if she could put any value on those words, on the desperation in his eyes.
“Please, my own dear love. Nothing has changed, can’t you see that?”
Her heart felt as though it was falling from a great height, a rush of exhilaration and fear so profound she could hardly breathe. She had so longed to hear those words, but how could she place any trust in anything he said?
“You still have my heart,” he pressed, taking a step closer. “Don’t you ever wear the little gold one I gave you?”
She was torn between giving him a sharp no which he thoroughly deserved, and telling him the truth, that she slept in it and returned it to her jewellery box every morning.
“How can I?” she replied, after a pause that seemed measured out in her own heartbeats. “When I don’t know who gave it to me.”
“And I never knew you were Lady Dalton’s daughter!” he threw back at her, dark eyes blazing. “I thought you were sweet Georgiana Bomford, the lovely, innocent girl I lost my heart to!”
She took a breath, startled by the fury in his voice and unsettled by the realisation that he was right.
“That’s because I didn’t know myself!” she said, flushing with anger.
“I was Miss Bomford, the doctor’s daughter.
I have been all my life, until my uncle arrived on my doorstep after you had left me alone and told me the truth.
He told me I was an heiress and he called my mother a whore and said I was just like her. ”
He stared at her, appalled shock in his eyes at her revelation.
“I never lied,” she said, biting out the words and holding his gaze so he was forced to see the truth in her words. “You did, your grace.”
He was silent for a moment, clearly at a loss. “Let me explain then,” he replied, his voice low and urgent and obviously frustrated.
“Very well, explain,” she replied, daring him to tell her everything.
He looked around the crowded park, and she became aware of the eyes watching them conversing, whispering about how the Duke of Sindalton of all people, had searched her out alone. “Not here,” he replied. “I’ll meet you somewhere, anywhere you choose. I could come to the house?”
Georgiana knew he did have a point about them being watched and moved carefully around him, back to where the jetty met the land.