Miller, Raine - The Undoing of a Libertine (Siren Publishing Classic) (6 page)

I’m here alone with you, and I’d call that a direct hit.
“But you won’t tell on me, will you?” Jeremy said knowingly, loving the fact that they could share in another secret.

“No. I will not expose you as I’ve already said.” Her eyes swept down to the grass.

“Why won’t you?” Not understanding why he asked her such a thing, Jeremy just knew he wanted something from her. A gesture on his behalf. What? He couldn’t really say, and the question left his lips as easily as a spot of fluff pulled by the wind.

Georgina blushed beautifully before answering. “Because, I think you are—”

She paused and lifted her eyes to meet his. Jeremy felt his body tense in anticipation of what she would say of him. The snapping sound of leaves rocked by the wind filled the silence.

“—in great need of my help, Mr. Greymont!”

And then the beautiful Georgina laughed. A sound not loud or boastful, but soft and sweet and gentle, like a caress down his neck that travelled straight to his heart and warmed it, spreading slowly from the inside out.

You have that right, Miss Georgina Russell. I desperately need your help.

Jeremy bowed with a flourish before stepping forward to hand over the last collected arrow. “That’s the last, and I am ready for my lesson.”

He made sure to get a brush of her hand with his as he passed her the arrow. The place where their hands touched tingled under his leather glove. And as Jeremy gave himself over to her for archery basics, he truly felt some goodness, some enjoyment, a blast of happiness, some delight—whatever the hell it was—it felt nice. Jeremy felt damn wonderful for the first time in a long, long while.

Chapter Six

What reinforcement we may gain from hope;

If not, what resolution from despair.

—John Milton,
Paradise Lost
(1667)

One week and innumerable wicked fantasies later, Jeremy’s card game suffered abominably due to distraction. His attempts to sleep at night during that same week hadn’t fared much better, what with his wicked imaginings getting the better of him when he was alone.

The distraction was the lovely woman across the room from him, of course. Jeremy had been watching her for the past half hour. So he had seen how her father seemed oblivious to the leering of that lewd bastard, Pellton.

Just this morning Jeremy had been witness to more bad behavior on Pellton’s part. As he had left his own room, he saw a young maid exit Pellton’s, her rumpled clothing askew, furtive glances all around, and a hand to her hair to smooth it. All testaments to what Pellton had been doing with her in the night. In Jeremy’s opinion, such behavior was the lowest of the low. Using servant girls, particularly in the confines of a host’s home, simply wasn’t done. And if he considered that Pellton was trying to woo the daughter of said host in addition to his infidelities, there seemed no end to the man’s dreadful manners.

Pellton was forever begging Georgina for strolls in the garden and for games of cards. Jeremy had done his best to rescue her from those incursions because whenever Pellton got near her, Jeremy felt his ire blossom. A visit to the library had been especially timely only yesterday. He’d gone in there to find something to read, which was unusual in itself…

* * * *

Jeremy knew he needed something to do in his room at night besides think about what he’d like to be doing with Georgina between the bed linens.

He also knew Oakfield’s library was well appointed. Jeremy felt confident he’d be able to find something of interest in its vast collection, but when he stepped in, he got the surprise of an interest very different from that of a good book—the sight of Georgina reading. Her back faced him as she reclined on a lounge chair with one leg draped over the chair arm. Her pink slipper pointed down to the floor, exposing a lovely stockinged ankle and underskirts aplenty.

“Thank you, Fannie, you may set it on the table,” she said without looking up from her book.

“I’ve been called many things over the years, but that name, never,” he answered, unable to refrain from teasing.

Georgina peered around the side of the chair and, pulled her leg off its perch so fast the book slid from her lap and dropped with a thud. “Mr. Greymont! I do beg your pardon. I—I believed you to be the maid with my tea.” She bent down to retrieve her book off the floor.

“Obviously.” He smiled at her. “No apologies necessary, Miss Georgina. And I am sorry I don’t have any tea to bring to you.” He held up his empty hands. “I’ve just come to find a book.”

“Obviously.” She smiled back, a hint of mischievousness lighting up her face.

Teasing him again. It was so easy with her. Being around her, talking, sharing a meal, taking the air, anything, everything was just so damn easy with her. Effortless. He had to force himself to say something. Otherwise he’d just keep standing here and staring, like the besotted idiot he was.

“You looked very captivated by your tome. Please continue on, Miss Georgina, and don’t let me disturb you. I’m just going to search the shelves back there.” He indicated with his thumb.

“Very well, Mr. Greymont.” She gave a serene nod and turned back to reading her book. This time, her leg kept primly on the seat of her chair, unfortunately for him.

Jeremy wandered over between two shelves and began his search for something to read. He heard the maid come in with Georgina’s expected tea a few minutes later, and he heard when she closed the door behind her when she left.

He pulled down a thick volume and opened it.
The Last of the Mohicans: A Narrative of 1757,
by the American writer, James Fennimore Cooper.
Jeremy had heard about this novel. He checked the date on the title page. The story had caused quite a stir in Europe since its publication in ’twenty-six. He knew the setting for the story took place during the
Seven Years’ War
, when France and England battled for control of the colonies in America and where the French had called upon the native tribes to fight against the British. The protagonist viewpoint was that of its Indian hero, and it was this facet of the novel that caused such a rumbling among those obsessed with the order of the classes. Jeremy flipped through pages until he came to an illustration that looked wildly interesting. It showed a man and a woman in the background watching in horror as an Indian warrior wrestled with a great bear standing on its hind legs. Right down his alley. His unconventional mind was piqued by anything radical. Jeremy knew this book would suit him perfectly.

His choice made, he tucked it under his arm and made ready to leave when he heard the door open again.

“Aha. I’ve been searching everywhere for you, my dear. It was only when I spied the maid leaving did I think you might be in here.”

The voice had a slithery cant to it, and Jeremy knew who it belonged to the second he heard it. Pellton. The vulture.

“What are you reading, dear Georgina?” Pellton demanded.

“Poems. I am reading poetry, my lord,” Georgina answered back in a stiff voice.

Jeremy stayed behind the shelf, out of sight, and listened. He heard Pellton set himself down on something and say, “Read me one of the poems out of your book. I wish to hear your voice, Georgina darling.”

“Sir, you should not speak to me in ways so familiar.”

“But why shouldn’t I speak familiarly to you? I intend to marry you, and the sooner you accept the fact, the better.”

“No, sir. I have given you my answer, and it is an emphatic—”

“Your refusal does not concern me overmuch.” Pellton spoke right over her words. “I know that in time we will come to an understanding. You see, my darling Georgina, you have no other suitors, no prospects other than me. And your father wants you to marry me, doesn’t he?”

“No!”

“Yes, he does. In fact, he appears quite eager to get you off his hands. I know I’m not mistaking his intent regarding you. I only wish your dear mother were here to see you become my bride.”

“Do not speak of her! Lord Pellton, if my mother were alive today, I would not be in the sorry position I am in at present. She would never make me marry against my will, no matter the circumstances.” Georgina sounded angry now.

“Circumstances. Yes, circumstances have a way of changing everything, don’t they? You look so like your mother, Georgina…” Pellton mumbled the rest inaudibly, but then the sharp sounds of rustling broke over the mumbles. The noise alerted Jeremy to peer out from behind the bookcase to see what offense Pellton was perpetrating now.

“Release me at once, sir,” Georgina demanded, pulling her hand back from where Pellton gripped it.

“Is there a problem?” Jeremy called loudly, stepping out into the middle of the room.

Both of them turned their heads to the sound of Jeremy’s voice at the same time. Jeremy couldn’t be sure if Georgina remembered he was in the room or not, but Pellton sure as hell was surprised to see him.

Jeremy pointed his gaze to where Pellton was clutching her. The weasel sneered at him. Georgina yanked her hand free with a jerk and glared at Pellton.

“Yes, I do have a problem. I suddenly feel like I might be sick! Excuse me.” She turned away and swept out of the room.

Jeremy cocked an eyebrow. “That was quite the feat, Pellton. You made Miss Russell sick.”

Pellton squinted his eyes and struck just like the viper he was. “Oh, bugger you, Greymont!” he spat and then walked out, leaving the library peacefully quiet once more.

Jeremy went to where Georgina had been sitting. Her book lay on the side table and was still open to the place she’d been reading.

He picked it up and read the page…

* * * *

It took a great deal to rile Jeremy, but it didn’t require much when Edgar Pellton was involved. The ridiculous toad irritated the hell out of him just by breathing. Mostly when he fawned after Georgina like he was doing right now! The scene was nearly an exact replay of yesterday in the library.

Pellton had Georgina trapped on a chaise, where she was attempting to read another book. Jeremy also saw how Georgina turned away from the oaf, affecting a cut, when he’d tried to engage her in what was no doubt, again, some topic inappropriate for polite conversation.

Good for her, Jeremy thought, when he saw Georgina cut Pellton. The line of her neck looked so fine turned in profile, away from her tormentor. But Jeremy wasn’t the only person who noticed. Mr. Russell had also been watching his daughter. And he took her to task for what he saw her do.

Mr. Russell asked to speak with her and then firmly backed her into a corner where he began to quietly chastise her for insulting a guest.

Jeremy saw how Georgina’s face grew stricken, how she crumbled under the displeasure of her father. After a few moments of this, she put a hand to her mouth and fled the room in tears. Mr. Russell looked about to have an apoplexy, before going to pour himself a double whiskey. Pellton looked rather pleased, a spiteful little smirk cracking out the seam of his serpent lips.

Jeremy couldn’t believe it. Her misery was apparent, as was Pellton’s debauchery. Why in the hell would any father push a daughter into marriage with such a beast? Pellton would mistreat her. Everyone must have heard the whisperings of his depraved leanings. Or maybe Mr. Russell did not know. Jeremy knew John Russell preferred the hunts and house parties of country life to the social doings of London. He guessed it was possible Georgina’s father did not know the reality of Pellton’s nasty predilections.

Jeremy gave his card game another five minutes before excusing himself. Ten more passed before he actually found her.

She sat in the solarium, on a bench amid the tropical green leaves of plants that could never survive the English climate if exposed to the natural elements. Her tears had stopped, but now she looked broken and defeated. Even in her misery, Georgina was beautiful to him. She wore a silvery blue dress tonight, the shine of the fabric glowing in the lamplight.