Leaving Georgiana to gaze on her mother’s face, Dominic pulled the next from the pile. A young baby rolled playfully on the grass beside the same woman. A gentle smile, full of love, curved the woman’s fine lips.
Wordlessly offering this picture to Georgiana, Dominic reached for the last. This showed a young girl, of six or so summers, long golden hair hanging in plaits down her back, honey-gold eyes alight with mischief. A dusting of freckles was scattered across the bridge of her pert nose. Dominic smiled. Turning to Georgiana, he put one finger under her chin and turned her face towards him. After a careful examination, which ignored her brimming eyes, he stated, “You’ve lost your freckles.”
Georgiana smiled tremulously, recognising his attempt to lighten her mood and grateful for it.
Dominic smiled back and released her, gently flicking her cheek with his finger. He glanced about them. “Now that this room has been opened again, I rather think these pictures should be removed from here.”
Georgiana looked blank.
“Shall I get Duckett to pack them up and take them to Candlewick? You can decide what to do with them later.”
Still dazed by their discoveries, Georgiana nodded her agreement. Duckett began to move about her, carefully stacking the paintings into smaller piles to be carried downstairs by his minions.
“And now,” Dominic said, coming once more to stand beside her, “you must be famished. I’ll take you to Candlewick, and Mrs Landy can feed us.”
Quite forgetting the long trip back to London, Georgiana, happiness filling her heart, and enjoying the novelty of having someone to share it with, allowed herself to be escorted downstairs and into the carriage.
Mrs Landy had a meal waiting. She scolded Dominic for keeping Georgiana so long in the cold, causing Georgiana’s brow to rise. But Dominic only laughed.
When they had eaten, he left her in Mrs Landy’s care while he went out to talk with his bailiff.
It wasn’t until, over tea and scones in the housekeeper’s rooms, she noticed the day drawing in that Georgiana started to become uneasy. As the hour dragged by and Dominic did not return, her sense of premonition grew.
The light had faded to a premature dusk when he finally appeared. He came into the drawing-room, where she
had retreated, stamping his feet to restore the circulation. He crossed to the fire and bent to warm his hands. Straightening, he smiled at her reassuringly, but his words dispelled the effect. “I’m afraid, my dear, that we won’t be able to return to town tonight. The weather’s turned nasty and the roads are freezing. There’s snow on the way, and I doubt we’d make the Great North Road before we were stuck in a drift.”
At the sight of his satisfied smile, Georgiana’s eyes grew round. He’d planned this, she was sure. But why, for heaven’s sake?
But her host gave her no opportunity to ponder that vital question. He challenged her to a game of chess, to which she had admitted fair knowledge, and, by the time Georgiana had conceded her king, Mrs Landy was at the door, smiling and waiting to take her to her room to freshen up before dinner. The clouds of worried questions that flitted through Georgiana’s mind seemed ridiculous when faced with the solid respectability of that worthy dame.
A sense of unreality hung over her during dinner, eaten in the large dining-room. The huge table, which Mrs Landy had informed her could seat fifty, had thankfully had all its leaves taken out, rendering it a suitable size for household dining. She was seated on Dominic’s right, and so attentive was her host that she had no time to question the propriety of the proceedings. The food was delicious, and the wine Dominic allowed Duckett to supply her with was cool and sweet. A discussion of the portraits her father had left her occupied much of their time, until, with the removal of the last course, Dominic pushed back his chair and rose, waving Duckett aside and coming to assist her to her feet. “Come. We’ll be more comfortable in the drawing-room.”
The presence of Duckett behind her chair had soothed her troublesome conscience, pricking with half-understood suspicion. Now, as the drawing-room door closed and she realised he was no longer in the room with them, her jitters woke afresh. Her nervousness spiralling upwards, she crossed the room towards the chaise angled before the big fireplace, conscious that he followed close behind.
“Georgiana.”
The single word, uttered in the most compelling of tones, stopped her before the marble hearth. Recognising the futility of attempting evasion, Georgiana turned slowly to meet him. He was closer than she had realised. She found herself enfolded in his arms, like delicate porcelain. Looking up, she felt her eyelids automatically drop as his head lowered to hers and he kissed her, so gently that the caress captivated her senses. This time, the kiss did not end, but went on to steal her breath, and her wits. Her nervousness disappeared, chased away by the warm glow of desire which spread insidiously through her veins. In response to some inner prompting, she slipped her arms free of his hold and twined them about his neck. His lips firmed against hers, until she parted her lips in welcome and, by imperceptible degrees, the kiss deepened.
Suddenly her mind, all alive to every incoming sensation, registered the restraint in his body, the tightness in the muscles holding her so gently, the iron control which stopped him from crushing her to him. She moved closer, letting her body press, soft but firm, against his.
Dominic stiffened with the effort to hold his passions in check. He raised his head to look down into her face. In surprise, he viewed hazel eyes smoky with desire, lips parted slightly in flagrant temptation. The siren he had glimpsed in the Massinghams’ library stood within the circle of his arms, her body pliant against his. And it was all he could do to draw breath and, his voice husky, demand, “Marry me, Georgiana.”
His words slowly penetrated the fog of desire which swirled through Georgiana’s mind. They made no sense. Nothing made any sense any more. He had the Place. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Georgiana ignored his talk and, instead, tightened her hold on him, forcing his lips back to hers.
With a groan, Dominic recognised her state. But he was powerless to resist her blatant demands. His lips closed on hers and he tried very hard to think of other things—anything other than the slim form snuggling so invitingly against him. His plan of gentle wooing had not taken into account the possibility of such responses on her part. In the dim hope that her mind would return presently if he kept their lovemaking in a frustratingly light vein, he rained gentle kisses on her lips and face, ignoring her attempts to ensnare him in a deeper caress. Gradually her flaring passion abated somewhat—enough, at least, for him to try again.
“Georgiana?”
“Mmm.” She moved seductively against him, and he caught his breath.
“Marry me, love. Say yes. Now.”
“Y… What?” Abruptly Georgiana’s eyes focused. Slowly her mind followed. Then, still dazed, she shook her head.
To her amazement, she found herself looking up into eyes darkened with desire but lit by underlying sparks of anger.
“I do hope, my love, that you are not going to tell me you won’t marry me.”