knew then, with a desperate, sinking sensation, that the feelings that had struck him when first he saw Georgina had not been mere gratitude for her attention, or his long deprivation of female company.
Those feelings had come from her , and her alone. From the sheer force of her beauty and her vibrant personality. She was unique, she was—special.
“Oh, Lord Wayland!” she said, taking his hand in her own gloved one. “How very good of you to rescue me from madness.”
Still much struck by these new and strange emotions, Alex assisted Georgina into his curricle and climbed up beside her. He had never been so glad of anything than he was to have the reins and the driving to distract his thoughts. “Madness?” he asked.
“Yes. You see, Lizzie has decided to launch her own salon. Every Friday evening she will invite painters, writers, singers, what have you to her drawing room.”
“It sounds delightful.”
“Oh, yes! No doubt it will be. But she intends to hold the first one next Friday, and this afternoon she is in an uproar trying to decide exactly who to invite, and what food to serve.” Georgina sighed. “Right now, the butler, the cook, little Isabella, and Lady Kate are all gathered together, offering their opinions, and Elizabeth is nay-saying them all. I tell you, I escaped only just in time. Perhaps, if we are gone a very long time, all will be settled by the time I return.”
Alex laughed, his heart lightened, his doubts forgotten. As he had the day before, he quite forgot all his worries the moment he was in her company. Money, marriage, his family—there would be more than enough time to worry over those when he was deprived of her presence.
“Then, Mrs. Beaumont, I shall endeavor to take the long way about the park,” he answered with a grin. “If there is a long way.”
“If there is, I am certain we can find it.”
“And, when the salon does come off, I am sure Lady Elizabeth will have a mad crush on her hands, and invitations will thereafter be highly sought for her Friday evenings.”
“Of that I have no doubt. Certain high sticklers do not entirely approve of Lizzie, but she is the very center of a younger, more dashing set here in London. The salon will be a great success, and fun as well.” She smiled at him. “You will be invited, of course. As will your friends, Mr. Marlow and Viscount Garrick.”
“Now, that invitation I happily accept! I cannot speak for my friends, though. They are good enough fellows once you get to know them, but not precisely what one might call artistically minded.”
“So I have gathered, from our very brief acquaintance!” Georgina laughed. “But I’m sure they would add an interesting element to the guest list.”
“Then I will pass the invitation on to them.”
Alex watched Georgina from the corner of his eye as she laughed and turned her face up to the warmth of the sun.
“You really are very lovely,” he blurted, before he could even think.
Then he felt his face burn.
Chapter Seven
Georgina looked at Lord Wayland in shock, wondering if perhaps her ears had deceived her. A compliment, from the so-perfect duke? And a blush from him besides!
She found herself hopelessly, absurdly delighted. She even had the most unaccountable urge to giggle. Several swains in Italy had composed poems to her “emerald” eyes; some had even written songs and then sung them beneath her window. No flowery tribute had ever moved her so much as the fact that Lord Wayland thought she looked lovely today.
How very curious.
She waited until the need to giggle and simper had passed, then said, “Thank you very much, Lord Wayland! What a very kind thing to say.”
He smiled at her, a wide white flash against his sun-bronzed skin, and Georgina once again felt the giggles coming upon her.
She covered her mouth with her gloved hand.
“I speak only the truth, Mrs. Beaumont,” he answered. “But I am sure that you must hear how lovely you are every
Those feelings had come from her , and her alone. From the sheer force of her beauty and her vibrant personality. She was unique, she was—special.
“Oh, Lord Wayland!” she said, taking his hand in her own gloved one. “How very good of you to rescue me from madness.”
Still much struck by these new and strange emotions, Alex assisted Georgina into his curricle and climbed up beside her. He had never been so glad of anything than he was to have the reins and the driving to distract his thoughts. “Madness?” he asked.
“Yes. You see, Lizzie has decided to launch her own salon. Every Friday evening she will invite painters, writers, singers, what have you to her drawing room.”
“It sounds delightful.”
“Oh, yes! No doubt it will be. But she intends to hold the first one next Friday, and this afternoon she is in an uproar trying to decide exactly who to invite, and what food to serve.” Georgina sighed. “Right now, the butler, the cook, little Isabella, and Lady Kate are all gathered together, offering their opinions, and Elizabeth is nay-saying them all. I tell you, I escaped only just in time. Perhaps, if we are gone a very long time, all will be settled by the time I return.”
Alex laughed, his heart lightened, his doubts forgotten. As he had the day before, he quite forgot all his worries the moment he was in her company. Money, marriage, his family—there would be more than enough time to worry over those when he was deprived of her presence.
“Then, Mrs. Beaumont, I shall endeavor to take the long way about the park,” he answered with a grin. “If there is a long way.”
“If there is, I am certain we can find it.”
“And, when the salon does come off, I am sure Lady Elizabeth will have a mad crush on her hands, and invitations will thereafter be highly sought for her Friday evenings.”
“Of that I have no doubt. Certain high sticklers do not entirely approve of Lizzie, but she is the very center of a younger, more dashing set here in London. The salon will be a great success, and fun as well.” She smiled at him. “You will be invited, of course. As will your friends, Mr. Marlow and Viscount Garrick.”
“Now, that invitation I happily accept! I cannot speak for my friends, though. They are good enough fellows once you get to know them, but not precisely what one might call artistically minded.”
“So I have gathered, from our very brief acquaintance!” Georgina laughed. “But I’m sure they would add an interesting element to the guest list.”
“Then I will pass the invitation on to them.”
Alex watched Georgina from the corner of his eye as she laughed and turned her face up to the warmth of the sun.
“You really are very lovely,” he blurted, before he could even think.
Then he felt his face burn.
Chapter Seven
Georgina looked at Lord Wayland in shock, wondering if perhaps her ears had deceived her. A compliment, from the so-perfect duke? And a blush from him besides!
She found herself hopelessly, absurdly delighted. She even had the most unaccountable urge to giggle. Several swains in Italy had composed poems to her “emerald” eyes; some had even written songs and then sung them beneath her window. No flowery tribute had ever moved her so much as the fact that Lord Wayland thought she looked lovely today.
How very curious.
She waited until the need to giggle and simper had passed, then said, “Thank you very much, Lord Wayland! What a very kind thing to say.”
He smiled at her, a wide white flash against his sun-bronzed skin, and Georgina once again felt the giggles coming upon her.
She covered her mouth with her gloved hand.
“I speak only the truth, Mrs. Beaumont,” he answered. “But I am sure that you must hear how lovely you are every
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