Chapter Twenty #2
It was an odd thing, he realized, just to walk away from Marcus.
He could feel Marcus’s glare, and indeed he savored it.
At one time, he was entirely at the eldest son’s beck and call.
Gabriel too, if he thought on it, even more so once they joined the army.
Now, there was only one person he cared to answer to.
He ducked into a quiet corner outside the ballroom and read Georgie’s note.
Dear Mr. Worthington,
The last time we exchanged letters, I fear you were misled. I beg a few moments with you to right the wrongs spoken in my name. I am in the library if you are so inclined to meet with me.
– G
Would he meet her in the library? Hell, he would meet her anywhere. Blood pounded in his ears, hope dancing with fear, as he forced himself to walk to down the candlelit hall that led to his father’s library.
He gripped the polished brass doorknob, prepared to turn it, when he realized the door was open. A sliver of golden light framed the door, coming from within. Anticipation flared inside him, swirling in his blood.
An invitation.
He pushed the door open and beheld the love of his life standing in the center of the room.
Candlelight warmed her skin, dancing off the beads sewn into the neckline of her dress, which skimmed over her body and inspired a hundred unholy thoughts.
She was at once angel and temptress, salvation and sin.
“Tom.”
The sound of his name on her tongue had always been sweet torture. Playful, sometimes argumentative, and when they were younger, naturally infused with the authority of a person of her rank. But there was something else in her acknowledgment.
“Thank you for coming,” she continued, and for a moment he thought he saw this newfound confidence waver. “I hoped we could speak in private.”
He would always come if she called. “Of course.”
He closed the door behind him, then approached, uncertain if it was cowardice or caution that stopped him closing the entire distance between them.
“I have something to say,” she began, squaring her shoulders. “Something I should have said years ago, but I was too afraid to do so.”
“Georgie, you—”
She held up her hand, and Tom had to smile. She had not lost her imperiousness. She was a Hawthorne after all.
“For too long, I have let others speak for me. I have tried to behave as I should so as not to sully my family name, to assuage my father’s moods, to protect my family. And maybe I was even doing it because I thought I was protecting you.”
“Georgie, I know—”
She placed a finger on his lips, commanding him to silence even as his body went wild at this slightest of touches.
“I love you.”
Three words. So simple. And yet, something broke him apart inside.
He stayed silent, almost afraid to speak, when she continued.
“I was too afraid to tell you that once. But not anymore. You make me unafraid to do anything.” Her fingers still rested on his lips, and he resisted the urge to taste her, instead taking in the brightness of her eyes in the candlelight.
“I understand that I have done nothing to deserve a man who cares so deeply for the people in his life and treats everyone as if their happiness matters. But if nothing more ever happens between us after tonight, I need you to know, Tom, that I love you. I loved Tom Blakey, and I love Tom Worthington.”
“I have always loved you,” he said. “And it was wrong of me respond so harshly to a sentiment I assumed was yours.”
She blinked. “You know about that?”
“Marcus confessed it himself, not long before I arrived in this room,” he said, then found himself tripping over a niggling detail in his mind.
“When I visited you, you talked about the Blakeys. About having to keep them safe. Did he—” Tom forced himself to check his tone, as the full intent of Marcus’s actions became clear.
“Did he threaten the Blakeys? Is that why you agreed to that letter?”
She paused, then nodded. “He was going to have father dismiss them without a recommendation. I couldn’t do that to you, or to them.”
“You did nothing,” he said, marveling at the irony of Marcus’s ire only moments ago.
He pushed thoughts of Marcus aside, the pain of his own actions that had forced her hand squeezing at his chest. “Indeed, I must apologize. I shouldn’t have tried to press you into a future we were both too young and too ill-equipped for. ”
She ran her fingers along his hairline, brushing aside whatever wayward lock that had escaped his valet’s best attempts at putting into place. A river of sensation moved through his body, his eyes suddenly fixated on her lips and the subtle movement of her bosom as she breathed.
“We aren’t now,” she said, her eyes bright, the sheen of unshed tears reflecting the candlelight.
He let go a ragged breath, struggling to swallow under control this strange sensation even as it seemed his chest was ready to burst. It wasn’t hurt. It was longing. Possibly joy. Definitely love.
“Georgie, I need to kiss you.”
“Yes, you do.”
The flash of wickedness in her smile nearly ended him.
He’d kissed her with restraint at the Lyon’s Den, knowing he had to control himself and protect her virtue.
But as he covered her mouth with his, he struggled with that control.
She responded by pressing her body against his, her breath hitching and releasing a pretty little moan that made her need for him plain through thin layers of silk and muslin.
“Tom,” she whispered, breathless. “I didn’t know kissing could feel this good.”
“My darling Georgiana,” he said, breaking the kiss and delighting in that sigh of protest. He ran his fingers down her neck, grazing the tantalizing line between her gown and her lush bosom, then skimming further, where her own arousal was made plain under his palm.
“You have no idea how good I can make you feel.”
“Is this what it means to be compromised?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Indeed, if someone discovered us now, you might be forced to marry me.”
She replied with a wicked grin of her own.
“What if I wanted to wait for us to be discovered? Can you compromise me even further?”
Tom had prided himself on being in control of his carnal urges, as any number of nights spent alone with his own hand could attest. But her not so innocent question threatened to make him spill his seed in his rather expensive trousers.
“My darling, I would happily volunteer,” he said, then grew serious. “But on one condition.”
“What is that?”
“That when we are discovered, you allow me to do the honorable thing.”
“Then by all means, please compromise me.”