Page 14 of Better Not Bet a Bluestocking (Ladies of Opportunity #3)

Fernleigh House garden

Six weeks later—early in the morning

Georgine lifted her face, breathing in the perfumed air and enjoying the slightly cool and refreshing breeze. If today were anything like the past week, it might be too warm to venture outdoors this afternoon.

She didn’t mind.

Not only was early morning her favorite time of day, but July was her favorite month. So many trees, plants, and flowers bowed beneath a bevy of blooms, and occasionally, she spotted a baby animal or bird. Plus , she enjoyed the abundance of fresh local produce.

She skimmed her gaze over the grounds.

Matilda had transformed the manicured space into a vibrant sanctuary, and it had become Georgine’s favorite place at Fernleigh House . It didn’t even bother her that the garden was where she had been shot.

How long ago that seemed.

How much had changed.

Indeed , how much she had changed.

Now that she was free to roam the house and grounds at will— Doctor Tinsdale had lifted several restrictions, so long as she didn’t overexert herself—she sought the privacy and serenity the gardens offered.

She vowed she healed faster just being outdoors, surrounded by nature.

The doctor cautioned her to take care if she took trips to town or church, or attended gatherings, concerned that her healing arm might get jostled.

He estimated it would be another two to three months until she fully healed, and only then would they know to what extent, if any, the damage to the bone had reduced the use of her arm.

Before this, she had never considered what recovery from a gunshot entailed.

Georgine didn’t mind the extended convalescence now that she could move about Fernleigh House’s grounds. She had no desire to enter the feeding frenzy that was Polite Society , particularly as hers and Robyn’s names were yet on many flapping tongues.

Aubriella had shared that unfortunate and rather chafing detail during her last visit.

Old tabbies, bitter spinsters, and on-the-shelf wallflowers needed something to chat about, after all.

Georgine’s friends came to call often, and they held the Ladies of Opportunity meetings here, the last on the garden veranda.

That reminded Georgine .

She wanted to speak with Cook and make certain the lemon shortbread, almond macaroons, and marmalade puffs she had requested for tomorrow’s meeting, along with finger sandwiches, would be ready.

Hetty had called three days ago and wagered every cent she had scrimped away during her employment with Mrs . Wynecott —fifty-one pounds. Her wager was quite simple. “ Mrs . P shall be removed from all charitable committees of St . Winifred’s before the quarter’s end.”

Hetty deserved her happiness and freedom from the harpy.

Pausing beside the ornate five-tiered fountain with its cheerful cherubs, Georgine trailed her fingers in the cool, burbling water. A bashful frog launched itself from behind the spout’s dark recess, splashing into the largest scalloped basin.

“ Hello there.” She bent forward.

What a cute little thing, with those enormous black eyes.

“ I shan’t hurt you.”

“ Have you taken to talking to chubby stone cherubs, my dear?”

Since marrying, Robyn rarely addressed Georgine by her name, instead using terms of endearment.

Darling . My sweet. My dear .

And in private, even my love and sweetheart .

Georgine rather enjoyed the tenderness. It made her feel cherished, and that was a unique experience for her. No male, assuredly not Father , had ever made her feel precious and secure.

In truth, unexpectedly and much to her surprise, she rather enjoyed being married to Robyn .

Thus far, he’d been the epitome of kindness, patience, and attentiveness. If she didn’t know he had been forced into the union, she might be fooled into believing he cared for her as much as she had finally admitted she cared for him.

How could she ever have considered him her nemesis?

Well , perhaps nemesis was too harsh a term, but troublesome and bothersome were not.

Was it only now, with her guard down, that she allowed herself to see him through undistorted lenses?

She still hadn’t decided on the terms of her bet with him because the truth of it was, she had no desire to wager against their happiness. She wanted to embrace it, treasure it, see it grow into something meaningful and magical.

“ Or are you talking to yourself again?” Robyn teased.

“ I do not talk to myself, as you well know.” A half-smile played around her lips. At one time, his teasing would have irked her. Now she found his roguish charm endearing and amusing. “ No . It’s a little frog. We frightened the starch out of each other.”

“ A frog, you say?”

“ Come see.” She half-turned and held out her damp fingers. “ He or she is a little thing. I think it’s a baby.” Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “ How did you find me?”

Robyn chuckled, the sound rolling over her like a soft silk wrap. “ When I couldn’t find you in your bedchamber, I assumed you had asked Nelly to help you dress and made your way to the garden. It’s where you usually are in the morning.”

“ How astute of you.” Robyn had ordered several new gowns for her—all with front buttons and laces, since Georgine still couldn’t lift her arm high enough to have a gown slide over her head. A condition, Doctor Tinsdale had warned, might be permanent.

It was bad enough that Robyn had been forced to marry her, but to be stuck with an invalid… Georgine kicked that ugly thought to next month.

The sky-blue and white striped morning gown she wore, with its ruffled sleeves and hem, and embroidered ribbon encircling her waist, made her feel pretty…desirable even.

The appreciative glint in Robyn’s eyes as he raked his intense gaze over her caused a little thrill to zip along her veins. Not so long ago, his intense scrutiny would have peeved her. That was not her reaction these days.

No , indeed.

“ I had no idea I was marrying a morning sparrow.” He bent and kissed her forehead. “ I confess, I quite like it. I , too, enjoy the early hours.”

That was something else he did—dropped kisses on her crown or forehead or cheek, but never tried to do more. And the truth was, she very much wanted him to do more.

Much more.

And acknowledging that didn’t shock her as much as it would have mere weeks ago.

This past month and a half, as they’d spent time together, she’d discovered she not only liked Robyn —a lot—but he stirred feelings she wasn’t quite certain what to do with.

Except she wanted him to kiss her.

That much she knew beyond a doubt.

She took a step nearer to him on the pretext of flicking a piece of lint from his lapel.

A very wifely thing to do.

He smelled marvelous: sun-dried linen and Castile soap, with the faint crispness of starched cloth and a whisper of bergamot from the pomade in his freshly brushed hair. And sandalwood, of course.

Had someone bottled masculinity, rakishness, and charm?

She inhaled deeply, savoring his essence.

As usual, a sensual shiver raised bumps on her arms and caused her tummy to quiver.

“ Where is your froggy friend?” he asked in a husky purr.

God help me.

“ It’s just there, tucked into that niche.”

Goodness , her voice had become positively sultry.

Something that caught her off guard and happened far too often lately. When exactly had he gone from being a pebble in her shoe to the comfort she never sought but could not now forgo?

Robyn winked as if he guessed her secret as he bent to inspect the little frog. “ It is a tiny thing. Definitely a juvenile.”

He was so close, she could see the gold flecks in his iris, and a little mark on his firm chin where he must have cut himself shaving.

His attention dipped to her mouth.

Did he want to kiss her too?

Yes . Yes . Please do .

He raised his gaze to hers, a question in his rich brown depths.

She parted her lips, but words escaped her.

How did one ask one’s husband to kiss them?

Georgine had no practice at flirting. There had never been a need to attract a man’s attention deliberately before.

Nevertheless , attending dozens of balls, soirees, and routs had given her ample opportunity to observe ladies using their guile, subtle machinations, and posturing to entice gentlemen.

She leaned nearer until only a couple of inches separated their mouths.

There , that ought to do it.

Unless the man was as obtuse as a pumpkin.

Even so, Robyn hesitated.

What more of an invitation did he need?

Surely , he didn’t expect her to kiss him.

And why not?

Marshaling every ounce of courage she possessed, Georgine closed the distance and pressed her lips to his—the merest wisp, no harder than the brush of a butterfly’s wing.

At once, Robyn cupped her nape and deepened the contact, something near a growl echoing in his throat.

“ There you two are.”

Georgine sprang away, her cheeks on fire.

Robyn bent toward the frog.

Wearing a cheerful pink and yellow floral morning gown, and oblivious to the scene she had just interrupted, Regina skipped toward them, the curls framing her face bouncing. “ Matilda wants to know if we would like to accompany her to Bond Street today?”

Unlike Georgine , Regina adored shopping, even if she only selected a new ribbon for an old bonnet.

“ We could stop at Gunter’s Tea Shop for a lemon or strawberry ice afterward.” Features animated, Regina looked between Robyn and Georgine .

Georgine hadn’t indulged in a raspberry ice since before their mother died.

Regina looked so hopeful that Georgine hesitated before uttering the no that sprang to her lips. Neither Regina nor Matilda had ventured out since the wedding either.

“ I think that’s a marvelous idea. I shall accompany you. I would rather enjoy an orange ice.” Grinning , Robyn shoved a lock of hair off his forehead. “ We shall present a united front, and if anyone dares to give us the gimlet eye, we shall cock a snook at them, one and all.”

Brave words.

He put his thumb to his nose in a comical gesture.

“ What say you, Georgine ?” His expression softened. “ We shan’t go if you do not feel up to it.”

Georgine glanced at her sister.

Regina’s big, pleading eyes tore at her resolve.

Half child, half young woman, Regina needed the outing. Georgine couldn’t keep her hidden away at Fernleigh forever. At some point, they must venture out and face the wagging tongues and pointed glances.

Lifting her chin, Georgine nodded. “ I need new stockings, and in this heat, Gunter’s would be a treat indeed.”

She had plenty of mended stockings, but a new pair wouldn’t go amiss for a special occasion.

“ That’s my brave darling.” Approval radiated from Robyn’s eyes. Then , to her utter astonishment, he brushed a kiss across her lips, right in front of her sister.

And Georgine couldn’t summon a scold for his impertinence, for her lips glowed hot from his touch.

Regina giggled. “ I shall inform Matilda .”

About the kiss ?

No , ninny. About the outing .

With a flip of her wrist, Regina skipped away, calling in a sing-song voice, “ Don’t be long, you love birds.”

The faint mist from the fountain cooled Georgine’s hot cheeks.

Robyn stood close enough that the warmth of his nearness seeped through her gown. For weeks, they had spoken with careful politeness, their rare touches only the brush of fingers or the fleeting press of his lips on her forehead in a restrained farewell.

But now his scorching gaze held hers, steady and searching, as though weighing some silent question.

The garden remained oddly still, save for the fountain’s gentle splash of water and the rustle of leaves stirred by a soft morning breeze.

A thrush trilled somewhere in the hedges, its song bright and unguarded, and Georgine’s pulse beat in time with it.

Reluctant to break the spell, she slowly pivoted to return to the house. “ I should go in too.”

“ Not before I kiss my wife in the manner she deserves.”

When Robyn bent toward her, she told herself it would be another brief caress, no different from before. He looped a muscular arm around Georgine’s waist, taking the utmost care not to bump her injured arm. With his other hand, he lifted her chin.

The moment his mouth found hers, all such expectations dissolved.

He moved his lips over hers with a tender insistence, deepening the kiss until the fountain’s murmur, the bird’s song, even the flowers’ fragrance surrounding them faded, until there was only Robyn and her.

Heat unfurled within Georgine , curling low and sweet, each breath drawn against his mouth sending a shiver through her.

She wrapped her fingers around his lapel, seeking an anchor as the world narrowed to the sure, unhurried passion of his embrace—and the wonder that, at last, she had stopped wishing for his kiss and now experienced it.

And deep within her, Georgine knew her life had irrevocably taken another turn.