Page 53 of The Colonist’s Petition (Heirs & Heroes #2)

A moment later the rest of the Duke’s company arrived.

“Lord Whitstone, Lady Healand, Miss Jane, Miss Georgiana.”

Johnathan’s heart sped up to a quick trot. He stood when the ladies entered.

The duke continued as if nothing out of the ordinary was occurring. “Welcome. I’m afraid I quite miscounted seats. Miss Georgiana would you mind terribly sitting in the back row.

Georgiana turned, her eyes grew wide as they met with Johnathan’s. Her lips curved into a smile. “The back row suits me well.”

Johnathan could not help his smile which came as quickly as his revision of opinion of the Duke. “I am not sure I understand all of his Grace’s plots and plans. However, they make life interesting.”

“I’m beginning to think he is one of the most brilliant men in the country.

Look at him next to my grandfather. There will be few who would continue to give Grandfather the cut direct now.

Then with my sister on the far side of my aunt, the duke is clearly saying that my sister, and by extension me, who is in his box, are not to be trifled with despite the inappropriate declarations of our father. ”

“You know of those?” Johnathan tried to keep his voice calm. When he’d heard the rumors, only Lord Banbridge’s interference kept him from confronting Lightwood.

“Not in detail. However, I am not a stranger to my father’s outbursts or linguistic choices.”

“You should not be subject to —” Without words to finish the thought, he took her hand in his. “Did the Duke tell you of his scheme to take us northward?”

“Yes. He says you are not in favor of the plan.”

“You told me visiting Gretna Green would disgrace you and your sisters.”

“Not with Lord and Lady Banbridge as our escorts. They add a sense of legitimacy to the affair. Proper escorts. Proof we are running to Gretna Green only because my father leaves us little choice.”

“This is not what you wanted.”

“I am not sure what I wanted. I am not like Isabel. I have no dreams of a certain wedding dress, or a flower filled breakfast after pleading my troth. I did hope to at least be asked to wed.”

Johnathan stared at her in the dim light.

For the first time he realized there was someone singing on stage.

He racked his mind. They discussed marriage several times.

Even discussed their admiration for one another.

Laughed over his misunderstanding of Gretna Green not being a person.

Never once had he actually asked her to marry. Court, yes. Wed, no.

The aria concluded and the gaslights glowed brighter for intermission.

Johnathan did not let go of Georgiana’s hand. “It seems I have been very remiss. I intend to remedy this as soon as we can find a moment of privacy.”

“Not likely to get any privacy now. Everyone will come to see the Duke in his box.”

“May we leave?”

“I understand there are refreshments down in the lobby.”

“There were last time I was here.”

“You did not write of the refreshments or the theater.”

“Neither of us are good at writing details of our lives. Shall we go seek some lemonade?”

“Yes, we should take Jane.” Georgiana motioned to her sister.

A flash of disappointment flicked across his mind. However, it was the proper thing, and this was a public venue.

After the intermission, the second half of the theatrical performance passed without Johnathan taking in a single word or song. How was he to get a moment alone? It must happen before they left in the morning. Before they set off for their elopement.

He escorted Georgiana to the Earl’s coach.

They were the last to arrive. He was preparing to hand Georgiana up when the duke put a hand on his shoulder.

“I need to speak to Whitstone about a matter that cannot wait. Would you take my carriage and see Miss Georgiana home? I do not think there will be room for all of us.”

“But—”

“My coachman will take you directly to the Whitstone’s townhouse. If you dishonor—” The fearsome glint in the duke’s eyes hinted of a punishment worse than death.

Johnathan swallowed the knot in his throat and nodded.

“Go on then. I expect you no more than a minute after we arrive.”

Georgiana’s eyes were large, but she went with Johnathan willingly.

The Duke’s coach was the height of luxury. Johnathan sat across from Georgiana. Both of them ran their hands across the seats.

“Have you ever felt anything so luxurious in your life?” Georgiana traced the golden stitching on a pillow.

The floor of the coach was immaculately clean. Before he could think too long about it Johnathan dropped to his knees and took Georgiana’s bare hand between his. She set the cushion aside and gave him her other hand.

“My dearest, I have been terribly remiss. Our courtship has been all comings and goings. I always intended to ask for your hand as soon as your father— well he has not, and things have been arranged so quickly?—”

Georgiana moved her hand and placed a finger on his lips. “I’ve lived that as well.”

She removed her finger with such slowness it left a warm tingle.

“Georgiana Lightwood. Will you be my wife? I am not sure what our future holds or even if it can be here in England. We have yet to discuss the possibility of America?—”

She touched his lips again, this time with hers. A brief kiss, not much longer than their first, before pulling back. “I will marry you Johnathan Whittaker and I will follow you to the ends of the earth if necessary.”

Their lips met again. Johnathan moved his hands to hold her face and slipped them into her hair. There was absolutely something far more luxurious than the coach’s cushions. No, two things. Her hair and her lips. Some day he would tell her that. But not now.

Without letting her go he moved a kiss to her jawline and slid upon the seat next to her to hold her better. The carriage turned a corner, the movement pulling her away from him.

Georgiana looked at him with wide eyes. Her chest moved up and down as she too caught her breath.

“I know we are to travel together for most of the way.” Johnathan held her hands between them. “However I think it best if I ride my horse and meet you at the altar.”

“Anvil.”

“What?”

“A blacksmith will marry us. Over an anvil.”

For a man considered by most to be a backward colonist, a blacksmith shop seemed more fitting than a London cathedral. “I will meet you over the anvil. And the next time we kiss, you will be my wife. Which is somehow fitting since our first kiss was halted by fireplace poker.”

“How about the time after the next time?”

Before he could respond Georgiana’s lips met his again. Just as he pulled her into his arms to do a proper job, the coach came to a stop. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Until the anvil.”

“Until the anvil.”

He handed her out the door and she turned back once she was firmly on the ground. “I love you Johnathan.”