Chapter Twenty-One
Georgie had not thought it possible to know bliss—not like this.
She had not thought it possible to be kissed in a thousand different places and have it feel so utterly divine.
The little spot on her neck, right below her hair, which he had thoroughly mussed.
Her breasts, which ached with need every time he suckled them over the lacing of her stays.
The skin along her inner thigh, which sent throbs of glorious sensation up to her core.
And then, most scandalous of all, the kisses right there.
She had no idea that was meant for anything but the functional bits Gabriel was forced to tell her about when they’d watched a ram mount a sheep in the Cheshire hills.
When Tom kissed her there, she’d gone to a place of pure sensation.
And when he’d gently pushed a finger inside her, then two, the sensation turned urgent, her body suddenly desiring a fullness she had not known before that moment.
“Tom,” she breathed, as he’d pressed her up against the bookcase, an urgency for something she didn’t know how to voice frustrating her.
“Georgie,” he answered, his voice low and dark, the playfulness replaced with something she instinctively knew as mirroring her own need. “I have to stop now.”
“No, you don’t,” she replied, surprising herself with the primacy of her need.
“I will spill inside my own pants if we continue.”
“Does that mean I’ll be compromised?” she asked, surprising herself with her own playfulness at a moment like this.
“Georgie, I’ve already compromised you.”
“Thoroughly?”
His mouth hitched up in a devilish smile. “My God, woman, I think you’re about to compromise me.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his forehead to hers. “Tom, I want to compromise you, thoroughly.”
He paused, his expression turning serious. “If I do, you might be with my child.”
The idea sounded divine. She hadn’t thought a moment about starting a family, but the idea of being a mother to their child was surprisingly tempting.
“Then we will most definitely have to marry, won’t we?”
She’d barely stopped speaking before he started frantically pulling off his jacket, then unfastened the buttons on his trousers. The hardness of him she’d felt against her body was unmasked, the length of him before her. Her eyes must have widened, because he paused again.
“Are you certain?” he asked, his eyes wild, his chest heaving. “I can find another way to have my release.”
A curious sort of possession came over her, as if the very idea that anyone else—including Tom—should satisfy his need was absolutely out of the question.
“I am going to compromise you, Tom Worthington. Thoroughly.”
Tom had dreamed of this moment from a time before he’d had the life experience to imagine it with any semblance to reality.
He took great care as he entered her, but she welcomed his body, and soon they found a natural, blissful rhythm that climaxed in a blur of sensation and need.
Their coupling, awkward as it was against the wood panels and well-organized bookshelves, was delicious.
Later, he might raise a glass to Christopher Marlowe and Rene Descartes for their service to the momentous occasion.
Retrieving a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, he gently cleaned up the evidence of his seed.
There was no awkwardness about it. Once his trousers were back in place, her skirts smoothed and her bodice tugged back where it should have been, he helped her pin her hair.
As he tucked the last tendril back in place, she shivered.
“Are you cold?” he asked, turning her around to face him.
She shook her head, her mouth flattening into a grimace. “I was just imagining what this might be like with Lord Sharpe.” She pulled a face, as if she’d had a mouthful of sour wine. “I don’t think I truly appreciated how awful it would be until now.”
Tom bit back the anger at both Ashcombe and Marcus for their willingness to sacrifice Georgie to a man who viewed her as something to consume. He turned that anger into resolve. It was time to end that farce of a betrothal.
“Are you ready to be compromised, my lady?”
Her face blossomed into a wide teasing smile, and he was tempted to pleasure her again.
“I thought you’d never ask.” He walked to the door, opened it a crack where Benedict, bless him, was waiting. With a nod, he signaled to the footman, who returned the gesture with the smallest hint of a smile, then disappeared down the hall. Tom returned to Georgie, ensuring the door was closed.
Then they waited.
The baroness, the dowager, and Miss Duigood were the first to arrive. Tom made certain they walked in on a scene that, while definitely affectionate, would hardly qualify as indecent, given what they’d just done. Still, the baroness managed to look scandalized, while Miss Duigood rushed to Georgie.
“My dear boy,” his grandmother clucked, “I had no idea we had a rogue in the family. I am going to fetch your father at once.”
Before she turned to leave, Tom could have sworn she’d winked at him.
For her part, Georgie managed to look respectably distraught at being found, before being taken to the opposite side of the room by Miss Duigood and the baroness, who planted herself down on a nearby chair, looking for all the world as if she were holding court.
“I believe there is only one thing to be done to save Lady Georgiana’s spotless reputation,” she said, pointing her walking stick in Tom’s direction. “As her chaperone, I will not see her leave this house tonight without an engagement.”
“What the devil—”
Tom tensed as both his father and Marcus Hawthorne appeared at the threshold. Marcus looked positively wild eyed, turning from Georgie to Tom.
“Marcus,” Georgie said, her expression unreadable, her delivery almost sincere. “It’s not what this seems.”
“How dare you,” her brother hissed, anger flushing his cheeks as he charged into the room. “How dare you destroy the honor of this family.”
“My lord,” the viscount broke in, two steps behind. “Please take a moment while my son explains himself. I’m certain there is a legitimate explanation for what we are seeing.”
Marcus whirled from Georgie to Tom.
“You bastard,” he said, pointing a finger squarely at Tom’s chest. “You’ve been waiting years to get your hands on my sister. Your depravity knows no bounds.”
“Your tone, sir!” the viscount said, his voice like the crack of a whip.
Tom stepped between Marcus and Georgie.
“I will do the honorable thing, Marcus. Your family’s honor, such as it is, will not suffer as a result.”
“You can’t have her,” Marcus spat, dragging a hand through his carefully coiffed hair, which, given the amount of pomade, had the singular effect of making it appear as if it was standing on end. “She’s already been promised. There is a contract.”
“That contract is now null,” the viscount said. “And since I will outrank both of you—”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “You are the heir to a viscountcy, Worthington. Know your place.”
“My place is at your sister’s side, Hawthorne,” he snapped. “And while you may outrank me, know that the Worthington fortune is not a hair’s breadth from insolvency.”
Marcus’s jaw fell slack as he realized he no longer held power over the man he’d called a servant. Tom was certain he would savor this moment until he was lowered into the grave. And possibly in the afterlife as well.
Marcus recovered his lower jaw, tilting his head upward in an attempt at defiance.
“It is as I suspected,” he said. “You trapped her into this, just so you could ruin us.”
“I trapped Mr. Worthington,” Georgie called out, rising and walking toward her brother with all the confidence of a queen. “I wrote him a note, asking him to meet me here alone. If anyone did the compromising, it was me.”
Marcus blinked, and Tom wasn’t certain if it was her confession or her confidence which gobsmacked him. “You did what?”
“Father trapped me in a marriage, so I decided to escape that trap.” She arched a brow, tilting her head to one side. “Perhaps I am not so witless after all.”
Marcus seemed to hold his breath, as if he didn’t know how to speak to this version of his sister.
“Your dishonor to our family is reprehensible,” he said, his mouth twisted in a sneer. “After all Father has done—”
“What Father has done is try to sell me to a horrible man who agreed to wed me while he was still married, so I might save an estate that will never be mine,” she said so forcefully, Tom swore he saw Marcus flinch. “Do not speak to me of honor, Marcus. In fact, do not speak to me at all.”
“What can we tell Lord Shape?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“Tell him the truth, if you dare,” she said, her gaze sliding to Tom. “Tell him I have been compromised. Tell him I am marrying Mr. Thomas Worthington. The man I love.”
“What about Whetherby?” he hissed.
“Whetherby isn’t my problem, Marcus.”
Marcus’s face twisted in anger. Tom moved closer to Georgie, concerned her brother was in danger of doing something rash. Marcus turned away, paused, then whirled around, lunging at Georgie.
Tom dove at Marcus, but his father reached him first, dropping Hawthorne with a single jab to the jaw. Tom ran to Georgie, who sank into a chair, Miss Duigood already at her side.
“Georgie,” Tom said, cupping her face in his hands, searching her face for any signs of injury.
“I’m fine, Tom,” she said, looking at him with a smile that seemed too high for this world. “I think that’s the first time I’ve said it and it’s been true.”
“Shall I fetch you a glass of wine, or brandy?” he asked.
“Something to settle your nerves?”
“Mais oui,” Tom heard the baroness exclaim from behind him. “Some cognac would be just the thing.”
Marcus had already begun to stir.
“Tom, my son,” his father said, standing over Hawthorne, “let us take care of this mess so we can allow the ladies to return to the ball, and definitely before my wife decides to throw me out for ruining it.”
Several footmen were summoned to pull Marcus to his feet and escort him out the door. Only then was Tom able to breathe a sigh of relief. He returned to Georgie’s side, his father joining him.
“Georgie,” he said, “allow me to introduce my father, Viscount Worthington. Father, this is Lady Georgiana Hawthorne.”
“Lady Georgiana,” his father said, giving her a warm smile. “I have heard much about you over the past few days. I had hoped my son would have had the opportunity to introduce us properly before this moment. Nonetheless, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she replied. “And allow me to apologize for my family’s egregious behavior.”
“Think nothing of it,” he said. “From now on, the egregious behavior of this family will be your only concern.” He turned on his heel, then gestured to Tom. “Let’s return and give the ladies a moment, shall we? I need to dance with my wife.”