Page 47 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses
“What about my wife? That silly duchess person.” He made an inane gesture, an insult to his future spouse. “Do I bring her as well? Tell her not to worry as we’re childhood friends-turned-lovers. Pay no mind, darling, everyone in thetondoes it. Very progressive, this marriage. No fault of yours it’s with the wrong woman.”
Georgiana pressed the heel of her hand to her belly, forcing back the queasiness rippling through her. “Oh, God.” She drew her knees up, dropped her cheek to them. “That won’t work. I’ll scratch her eyes out if I get within reach.”
The silence thumped like a heartbeat between them. They’d done this before, waited out the hush until one of them broke. Usually her. She was finding Dex to be extremely hard of head and steady of mind. A log snapped in the hearth, a mantel clock counted off the seconds. The scent of lavender and sandalwood, smoldering birch and mating bodies, filtered in and gave her heart a hard twist.
“You’re not really going to leave, are you?” he finally asked in a stark murmur.
She rolled her head to look at him just as he lifted his to look at her. His eyes were losing their acidity and sliding back to a pale, approachable hue. “I have an interview with the Earl of Nottenworth’s daughter in four days. Camilla is beautiful and temperamental and practically abandoned by her family. Her father has gambled away the fortune. Her brother, Vincent, is an absolute bounder. She cannot enter the upcoming Season without support. She simply cannot.”
A muscle in Dex’s jaw flexed. “Your support.”
“Mine and Hildy’s.” Her partner, Hildegard Templeton, had agreed to manage the Duchess Society while Georgiana traveled for the holiday but this was a temporary arrangement. Georgiana’s temper sparked as Dex continued to stare as if his searing gaze would change her mind. They were naked, after all, and it had happened before. “Why is your surveying so important, all those blessed fossils, every split of rock from here to India, when my work is not? Is it because I’m a woman? Please enlighten me, Dex. I’d love to hear why my career, unique though it may be, is not valuable to society when yours is.”
His top lip canted, escalating her irritation. She’d no idea why her displeasure often made him smile. “I have an idea, Georgie girl.”
“Oh,” she whispered and dug her face into her knees. Dex’s ideas were legendary. Legendary debacles. Like the time they’d spent the night in one of those limestone caves he cherished after misjudging the daylight and getting lost. It had been exciting, a remarkable adventure, even as she’d questioned if they’d make it home. It was one of her fondest memories of Anthony. Her brother had laughed as the darkness rushed in on them, fearless, the most daring man, aside from Dex, she’d ever known.
Dex took her hand, turned it palm up, and started drawing deliberate circles that caused her skin to heat, her body to burn. “Believe it or not, my responsibilities are luring me to London as well. A legal issue with a tenant on one of the Yorkshire estates requiring consultation with the family’s solicitor. Also, there’s a government committee I’m scheduled to discuss the Wales expedition with, details of the start date, funding, equipment, and such. I can do much via messenger, but not all. The correspondence back and forth regarding each is killing me.”
She blinked, lifted her head. “Yorkshire estates. As in two?”
He drew up his leg, hooked his arm around it, and propped his chin on his wrist. She completed a comprehensive study from his unruly hair to his very masculine toes, unable to check the impulse. His skin, still damp, glistened in the firelight. His body was simply breathtaking, and her fingers itched to touch.
He sputtered out a laugh. “I’m supposed to talk to you while you look at me likethat?”
Her cheeks flushed as she lifted her gaze to his. If he laughed again, she would punch him.
“Georgie, you’ve no idea the hardship this ducal title brings. More responsibility than funds allow for. I’m to be burdened with two residences in London, two estates in Yorkshire, Markham Manor you’re acquainted with, plus a charming castle of sorts in Ireland to round out the bunch. Accountability for the village here, which you know I’ve been reviewing improvements for. I’ve only visited the Irish castle once and plan to take my charming bride there, conceivably for an entire summer as a research project on the Cliffs of Moher has been presented to me. The first Duke, a staunch Royalist, fled there after being expelled from the House of Lords in 1642. The home is haunted, the whole bit. And lovely, from my memory. Romantic.” He sighed, his lids dipping low, his lashes a neat sweep against his skin. “I’d hoped to have her, the duchess, that is, travel with me to Wales for an upcoming expedition, too. Not many wives accompany their husbands on these excursions, that’s true, but for the right woman, the absolutelyperfectone, which is what I’m tasked with finding, it could be advantageous for both parties. It could be, dare I dream,fun.”
Georgiana squinted as he pressed his lips together to hold back his laughter. He was tempting her with what she sought to reject. Dangling all that appealed before her, likeheappealed, every last bit of him. His flat tummy, his chest covered in what she’d determined to be the ideal amount of hair, his wickedly charming smile, those eyes.Oh, she did love his eyes. His wit, his sly humor, his intelligence. Hair no man in London could claim, in shades of ginger and gold. “You are a scoundrel,” she groused.
He shrugged, scratched his chin with his thumb. “I propose we table this discussion until Twelfth Night because I want to triumph, which is, at present, not occurring. Six days to ponder our noteworthy circumstances and what each of us wants from the other with two hundred miles of terrain separating us. A fair distance, that.”
Her mind whirled, her thoughts dizzying. This was another roundabout proposal—the most enticing one yet. Lots of pull without all the push. “Your father?”
“His condition has improved enough that I can leave for a few days, and these issues aren’t going to disappear because I wish like bloody hell they would. And I can’t help him, much as I find I’d like to. I’m doing no good pacing his bedchamber an hour each day and talking to the walls.”
“What of your promise?”
“I plan to fulfill my promise.” He leaned to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath left her in a soft sigh Dex wouldn’t miss. He looked away, his jaw clenching. “In London, it seems.”
“What I’m hearing is you expect I’ll miss you so much I go blind.”
His laugh was clipped but exuberant, surprising them both. “I’m not sharing the details of my plan, darling. What kind of strategy is that?” He leaned even closer, his lips skimming hers. More the fool, she didn’t move away. “Perhaps I’ll roam the cobbled city streets searching for the perfect duchess. Since your beloved society has not provided able assistance.”
She made a sound, either a groan or a sigh, and his pupils expanded, flooding those gorgeous eyes. Then he was kissing her, hand tangling in her hair and drawing her against him, bare skin melding as they reached and strained. Gasping breaths and desperate appeals. Sizzling contact with a bite, nothing sweet about it.
Before the world dissolved into hazy hues, she shoved him back. He’d been lowering her to the rug, and she knew where the party went from there. “Six days.”
His lips parted as he blinked. “What?”
Poor man, she thought, kissing himself senseless. “Six days. And we meet on neutral territory.”
He paused, considered, nodded. “January 5. The British Museum. Natural history room. One o’clock.”
Georgiana rolled her eyes. Only a man of science found a museum romantic. “They only conduct personal tours, Dex. You have to have connections, be a member. I tried once before to gain entry and was denied.”
His answering grin was hypnotic. “Georgie, half the rocks in the place are mine. I can gain entry. I’ll send my carriage for you, let’s make it noon.”